Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“You don’t like bacon?” He scowls down at me like I just told him that I hate kittens.
“Of course, I like it; I just don’t eat it.” I bite my lip when his eyes narrow.
“She worries about her hips,” Daisy pipes up, and I close my eyes in embarrassment as Brady scoffs.
“Thanks, baby.”
“Eat the bacon, Abs.” His voice is low so only I can hear, and it sends tremors right through me. Actual tremors. “This smells damn good.”
“You said a swear,” Daisy informs him. “A dollar goes into the jar.”
“What jar?” Brady demands, looking around the room.
“It’s on the mantle,” Daisy says, pointing to the living room. “We’re saving up.”
“For what?” he wants to know.
“I don’t know,” she admits with a giggle. “What are we saving up for, Mommy?”
“A rainy day,” I murmur as I take a bite of the bacon and savor the salty taste of it on my tongue. I don’t remember the last time I had a piece. I sit next to Daisy, across from Brady, and watch him inhale the pancakes. “Good?”
“Da-dang good,” he says, catching himself. “You said you do this every Sunday?”
“Yep.” Daisy takes a bite and hums with happiness. “They’re my favorite.”
“Mine, too,” he says and high-fives my daughter. “You have good taste, Princess.”
“I know.”
When we’re finished eating, Brady helps me clear the table, and then Daisy announces, “You should just live here and be my daddy.”
I blink, and my gaze whips up to him. He’s staring down at a plate, frowning, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s gone pale.
“You know, I should probably head out,” he says quietly and sets the plate back in the sink. He doesn’t meet my gaze as he turns away and gathers his coat and slides his feet into his boots. “Thanks for breakfast, ladies.”
“Daisy, why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed.”
“But—”
“No arguing,” I snap back at her and hurry after Brady, who’s already outside and striding to his SUV. “Brady, hold on.”
He’s shaking his head as he opens the door, and I rush over, in my socks, through the snow and worm my way between the door and the 4Runner so he can’t shut it on me.
“She didn’t mean to upset you,” I say, breathing hard and feeling awful that Daisy’s words are making him run away. “I apologize.”
“No, don’t.” He shakes his head and sighs. “She didn’t do anything wrong. It was just a reminder that I need to watch myself. I can’t let her get too attached to me.”
“She really likes you, that’s all.”
“I’ll keep my distance.” He still won’t look me in the eyes. “You’re going to get frostbite on your feet, Abbi.”
“Brady—”
“Go inside.” The words aren’t harsh, but they leave no room for argument, so I back away and let him shut the door and return inside, where Daisy’s sitting on the stairs, holding the bunny she’s had since she was a baby, looking at me with wide brown eyes.
“Did he get mad?”
I don’t know what in the hell he is. He looked…lost. “No, baby. I think he had to get home. There’s a lot to do at the ranch, you know.”
“He doesn’t want to be my daddy.”
“Come here.” I take her hand and lead her to the couch where we snuggle in like we do when we’re watching movies. “Sweetheart, it’s not that easy.”
“He likes us.”
“Sure, he does. And he’s nice to us, but that doesn’t mean he wants to live with us and be married to me. That’s what it means, Dais, and that’s a big deal. It’s not something that’s decided over breakfast after a dance.”
“Okay.”
My heart breaks at the defeat in her little voice, and I kiss her head, breathing in her shampoo.
“I love you, pumpkin.”
“I love you, too.”
“What do you want to do today?”
“Can we make cookies?”
That’s my girl, forever with the sweet tooth. “Sure. Why not? Snowy days are for cookies.”
I had to take matters into my own hands.
So to speak.
I’ve been living with perpetual sexual frustration for the past two weeks since Brady spent the night during the snowstorm. I haven’t heard one word from him, and I can take a hint when a man just isn’t interested.
Although, I’ll admit, there were some mixed messages there, what with the hottest kiss of the goddamn century, but if he was interested in more, he’d contact me.
He has my number.
But there has been nothing. Nada. Zilch. And I need relief from this constant ache for the stubborn son of a bitch.
Not that Joy’s a bitch. Brady’s mom is the best.
Anyway, I broke down and bought a toy. An adult toy. Online.
And it just arrived. I’ve unboxed it and am frowning at it, wondering where the batteries go, when Daisy gets home.
Of course, she sees the packing box.
“I want to see what we got,” she says as she lets her bookbag drop and starts to shed out of her coat.