Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Ian sighed, finally settling on a pout. “We should’ve at least done the board while we were slightly sober. The lines are crooked.”
Nothing about their sleepover was straight, so I wasn’t sure why he expected the board game to be. “It’s perfect and you guys had a blast laughing over it the next morning.”
Even Emerson had texted to make sure we sent him pictures. His Dom—that was easier than trying to understand the owner debate—had been glad to see their sleepovers were wholesome even if Emerson had ended up naked.
I wasn’t sure what Emerson’s descriptions had been like or what Owner had assumed, but I wasn’t sure I would ever describe sleepover nights as wholesome. But the board game had been very well done with Chutes and Ladders-type additions that made the world look like something everyone would want to play on.
Ian tried to pout for a few more seconds, but he finally gave up as a smile peeked through. “Daddy probably thought it was funny.”
“He was delighted that real-world domination wasn’t in the plans and thought it was hilarious.” He’d been just as confused about the texts as I’d been, and he’d used it as another starting point for a rant about why we were never being apart again.
Daddies were supposed to be there for their boys when they did something ridiculous.
Ian sighed, but his smile got bigger and he reached for another fry. “You know, when Daddy gets home, he’s not going to let us eat out this much.”
Laughing, I nodded and decided Ian had the right idea and grabbed another one too. It might be the last ones we had for a while because Ian was right; Bishop was not going to appreciate Thursday night burger dates the same way Ian did. “But date nights are important and we’re just going to tell him how many times we went to the gym…oh, and that we went running on Sunday morning.”
That was a much better plan.
“Deal.” Giggling quietly, Ian nodded as he grabbed another fry and dipped it in a terrible mixture of mayonnaise, ketchup, and mustard.
His dipping habits were highly questionable and I couldn’t help but wonder if Bishop knew what his boy did with fries when he was given free rein to order whatever he wanted.
When he finished the terrible bite, he wiggled happily and picked up his burger. “What else did you guys talk about? He seems to be rotating through everyone he knows on the drive.”
And then he’d start the list over when he got to the end.
I was head over heels for the pup, but Bishop needed more audiobooks in his life. I’d done my best to find good conversations, however. “We jumped from what vacations we should take in the future to what the plans were going to be when he gets home.”
I was dangling reorganizing the nice furniture in the house as a tempting treat to get him to move in…subtly, of course.
Ian giggled, nodding at the odd list. “We planned for the apocalypse. Not the zombie one. Regular kinds.”
Was there different planning for regular and zombie varieties?
I almost asked before realizing what a rabbit hole of a conversation that would be and stuck with something I had more control over.
“We’ve mostly stuck to more conventional topics, but if he doesn’t get home soon, I’m going to have to resort to reading him the financial news.” That had Ian scrunching up his face like he’d tasted something weird.
“Yeah, tomorrow can’t come soon enough.” Taking a sip of his drink, he grinned. “We talked over lunch earlier about work stuff and gossip and Emerson’s Owner and the playroom and everything.”
I managed to keep my smile to myself, but it was close.
Ian was still somehow under the impression that his Daddy wouldn’t be coming home until late tomorrow sometime, but that was not quite the case.
Nodding, I gestured with a fry and leaned back to stare at him. “Somehow your Daddy thinks that I bought a ton of toys and went completely over the top this week.”
Ian widened his eyes and gave me a very well-rehearsed who me shrug as he lifted his hands. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He was getting better at looking genuine when he did that…I had a feeling he’d been practicing with Eli.
“Brat.” The tattletale just giggled. “You threw me under the bus.”
Shaking his head and giving me an endearingly innocent look, he aimed for sweet and harmless as he dropped his voice to almost a whisper. “I told him how much fun we had buying stuff and what a wonderful Dom you were.”
Somehow that was not what his Daddy had taken away from the conversation.
“He said you spent twenty minutes listing out everything we’d picked out.” Some of it was small. Hell, Ian had probably listed off every color of crayon we’d bought.