Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“Are you seriously not going to invite me in?”
“Do you want your signatures or not?”
Clouds pass over his face and he pulls the papers from his satchel. I read them over, double-checking they’re the same as we decided on, initial each page and sign on the dotted lines. He takes them back, frowning. “That’s it?”
“Yeah, Karl. That’s it.”
I shut the door in his face and turn my back with a satisfied smile, then startle at my audience at the end of the hall. Damon with Tommy on his hip, leaning casually against the wall, holding up a toy truck for Tommy to play with.
I check myself and move towards them, saying hello to Tommy first, though my gaze skips to Damon.
He says, “I saw you and Karl at the front door so we snuck around the back. Didn’t want to disturb.”
“Wanted to eavesdrop, you mean.”
He laughs.
I push curls off my face; Damon’s gaze follows the movement and slices back to mine. Tommy brrm, brrms and Damon resettles him on his hip, but his eyes stay firmly on me. His Adam’s apple juts with a heavy swallow. “Is the fakery over?”
About that . . . Say it! Tommy won’t understand. In fact, he might provide a good buffer if I’ve been wrong about all this . . .
“The thing is . . .”
“Yes?”
“There’s a problem with the curtains in your study. I need to adjust them tomorrow, so I should probably stay another night.”
Damon blinks drily and shakes his head. “You know, I think there’s something else you want to tell me.”
My face flushes. How does he always know? How is he so infuriatingly right? “Hmm,” I murmur. “I also want you to finish making dinner.”
He levels me a look. Do you really think that’ll fool me? “Tommy needs a change. Nappy bag’s on the sofa.”
I hold on tight to Tommy as he drives his truck over my arm, then I hold him abruptly at arm’s length and race after Damon. “That was not a bluff.”
His laughter fills the open space in the kitchen and living room. “I’m finishing making dinner, like you asked.” He rounds the counter and one of his eyebrows twitches. “Unless . . .”
“We’re good, aren’t we Tommy? We’ve got this?”
We totally have not got this. But it’s not my furniture that suffers the fallout from a wriggling toddler and my total incompetence. Sweating something ferocious, I strap the new nappy on and let him run wild. Who cares about pants!
Damon is smirking way too hard on the other side of the counter. I cast him a look that should cut through metal, but won’t touch his smugness. He ladles stew into three bowls. “Anything you’d like to discuss over dinner?”
“Yes.”
He waits.
“The captain-slash-sous-chef stuff for Roger and Scott’s friend’s party.”
He sets the bowls and toasted bread on the table with a chuckle. “I should start teaching Fidget and Fishy your initials. It’s you killing me.”
I flash him my most innocent look. “I wouldn’t want to kill my first mate.”
“I really was your first mate. Fond memory.”
“We have a young guest here.”
“I’m simply talking about the time I helped you out on the boat.” He bats his eyes. “What did you think I was talking about?”
I laugh, whine, “Damon.”
He smirks, grabs Tommy and feeds him on his lap. “Yummy!” Tommy says, and Damon bops his nose and delivers me a questioning look.
“What does my fiancé think?”
I choke on my mouthful of deliciously tender stew. “Karl isn’t here. We’ve stopped faking.”
A simmering smile. “You’re wearing my ring.”
Holy shit, I completely forgot about that. “Oh that’s . . .” The gleam in his eye. “Just a stray piece I found dangling on the study curtains. I yanked it off while I was grabbing the pen for Karl. Wrapping it like this was a quick fix. No pockets.” I shovel in another mouthful of stew and swallow. “This is amazing. So good. I’ll be busy eating for a while.” And my mouth too preoccupied to talk!
He laughs and returns his focus to feeding Tommy. He doesn’t wait long before he tries again, eyes sparkling with mischievous glee. “How about we see some stars later?”
I hide a grin behind another mouthful of stew. “I’ve already broken into the library today.”
This has Damon shaking his head, his smirk as bright as his eyes. His retribution is swift. After dinner, I’m the subject/victim of a game of chase, Damon the fox, me the chicken, Tommy our ceaselessly giggling audience. Damon gets me around the waist and I laugh-cry for him to let me go—
And that’s how Troy finds us when he strides through the back door.
Um. I try to peel Damon’s hands off, but he slinks his arms more firmly around me and nips a kiss at my flushing neck. Tommy rushes to his dad for a hug of his own.