Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“It’s always been one of my redeeming qualities.”
I scoff and stop short as I notice the car seat in the back of Dutton’s car. “Did you buy him a seat for your car?”
He shrugs. “It seemed inefficient moving yours between cars. Don’t worry, I got the top of the line.” He opens the back door for Bentley. “At least that’s what the lady said.”
I stare at him, not sure what to think. This man is becoming more and more considerate, and I reflect on how alien he is now compared to the brutal, commanding man I first met. Now he’s buying car seats and installing them in his car when we’re not even… what? Dating? A thing?
He turns and looks at me. “What? Do I have blood on my shirt again?” he asks, deadly serious.
I gape at him. Nope, still a psycho. “Do you do that stuff in broad daylight?” I whisper as I get into the car.
He leans in and whispers so only I can hear, “The best activities aren’t exclusive to the night, Posie.”
I’m out of my fucking mind with this man.
When we’re all in the car, I’m not sure I want to ask him what he did for the day.
But Bentley says in a sing-song voice, “What did you get up to today, Dutton?”
Dutton glances in the rearview mirror, smirking as I give him a warning glare.
“Just did some boring work. I had to let someone go because he wasn’t doing the things I asked him to do.”
“Oh,” Bentley replies thoughtfully. “Did you ask him nicely?”
“Very nicely,” Dutton says, and I clear my throat.
We pull up to a building, and the first thing I notice is the van that delivered the bouncy house. Only one other car is parked in the lot. Dutton gets out and unbuckles Bentley from his car seat before I can even open my door. As soon as Bentley is set free, he jumps out of the car and runs straight to Dawson, where he waits at the door with a huge grin.
“Good to see you again, Bentley.” Dawson laughs as Bentley’s little hands wrap around his legs in a big hug. My heart twists at Bentley's immediate attachment to him, and I wonder if Bentley might’ve been like this with my father. I try to bury those sad thoughts.
“I was asking when we can hang out,” Bentley says as Dutton and I follow them side by side.
Dawson looks over his shoulder at me and says, “It’s good to see you again, Posie.”
“You too,” I reply with an awkward smile because the situation feels far too intimate and not like the sex-only arrangement Dutton and I were supposed to stick to. But him putting together my bed yesterday wasn’t about sex either. Which reminds me…
I bite my bottom lip, wondering if I should show Dawson the photo I took of Dutton sitting amongst the pieces of my bedframe because I’m positive he’d laugh at it as much as I did.
“Can we go and jump?” Bentley is already hurriedly taking his shoes off.
“Of course. That’s why we got it,” Dawson says as he removes his shiny shoes and then holds his hand out for Bentley.
My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. “Your dad likes to jump?” I ask Dutton, confused, as he pulls out two chairs. The building is empty, and I wonder what type of business Dawson intends to put in here.
“Yes. He actually hated kids, and they’re just drawn to him. But the moment he had his own kids, he was a goner. He was hands-on, especially when we were little. He would do all types of things with us. I wonder if it’s because he never got to enjoy them as a kid that he wanted to provide us with as much as possible.”
I side-eye him. Dutton had mentioned his father having secrets from his past, and it’s not my place to ask, so instead, I say with a sad smile, “My parents were the same. They loved taking me places, and my father was probably the worst. He’d always use me as an excuse to go onto all the rides he wanted to go on whenever we went to the fair.” I laugh, thinking about when I was ten years old and didn’t want to go on a particular ride. I told him that if he wanted to go on it, he’d have to go alone. He didn’t.
Dawson jumps, and Bentley bounces higher, squealing with excitement.
“Sometimes, I think my dad wanted a son. He tried to show me how to fish and things like that, but I didn’t have much interest in them. I didn’t like the dolls my mother bought me either. I just liked artsy stuff,” I say, remembering how I’d entertain myself in my room for hours.
Quietly, Dutton says, “You don’t talk about them much.”