Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
“You consider using the microwave an adventure.” She huffs. “That’s…wild. Billionaires. I guess they really aren’t just like us.”
She says billionaire like it’s a bad thing. Personally, I consider it one of my greatest assets, in addition to my skill on skis and my ability to guess bourbon brands in a blind taste test. I’m sure I could learn to cook if I wanted to, but cooking has never interested me.
Still, I feel compelled to defend myself.
“In my defense, my father thought microwaves caused cancer,” I reply. “We weren’t allowed to have one as children.”
“Really? He was a character, then?”
“You could say that.” I take another swig of bitter black coffee.
“Huh. Interesting.” She leans down to sniff at the mixture in the bowl. “There isn’t much gossip about him floating around town. Only that he never came up to visit his dad when you guys did. Or any other time. Folks thought that was weird. Your grandpa was so great, it was hard to imagine that he didn’t have a good relationship with his only son.”
“I don’t think you can smell salt,” I say, ready to change the subject.
And to finish baking and get the hell out of this basement. With red and green garland strung around the cabinets, a small Christmas tree in the corner, and carols piping softly from the sound system Holly flipped on along with the lights, I’m in holiday hell all over again.
Though, I don’t mind it quite as much as when my brothers and sister force festiveness down my throat. There’s something about Holly that has always relaxed me, even when she was a goofy little girl who wore nothing but red and green and laughed until she hiccupped at everything I said. Back in those days, she followed me around like I was a train engine and she my devoted caboose.
I never would have admitted it to my brothers, who lived to tease me about my snotty nosed little shadow, but I adored her. She made me laugh, too. And, more importantly, she made me feel…lovable for the first time in my life.
Turns out having your mother run off when you’re a child, even if she was a disinterested mother, isn’t a recipe for feeling worthy of affection. Add in my father’s focus on work and money above all else, and the way he separated me from my brothers and sister when I was still so young, and I’m lucky I didn’t end up even more surly and anti-social than I am at present.
“Luke?” Holly says, something in her tone making me think it isn’t the first time she’s said my name. “A spoon? Could you grab one?”
“I’m sorry, I was…distracted. Where are they?”
She motions toward the coffee maker behind me on the counter. “Right there. In the drawer under the mugs. Get two and I’ll taste it if you can’t figure it out.”
I balk halfway to the food prep station, freezing in place with both spoons in hand. “Excuse me? What am I tasting?”
“The treats,” she says, stepping back from the bowl. “To see if they already have salt or if we need to add it in.”
“I’m not going to eat dog food.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s not dog food, it’s a dog treat. There’s a big difference. And you saw the ingredients. There’s nothing in there that’s bad for humans.”
“Beef broth and peanut butter,” I blurt out.
“Yes, those are two of the ingredients.” She grins, making those annoyingly adorable dimples pop in her cheeks all over again. I’m pretty sure I hate those dimples. Or hate how much I like them…one or the other. “Neither of which will kill you.”
I shake my head and hold out the spoons.
“Are you a vegetarian?” she asks, and although I’m tempted to lie and confirm that I am, I’ve already lied my face off to this woman for reasons I can’t explain. I can’t do it again, not now that I’m sober enough to feel guilty about it anyway.
I set the spoons down beside the bowl. “No, but flour with beef broth and peanut butter mixed into it sounds repulsive.”
She arches a challenging brow. “So, you think I should be the one to endure the repulsive instead?”
“No, of course not.” I sigh. “We can start over with a new batch, and I’ll keep track of what I put in this time.”
“We don’t have enough ingredients to toss this batch and still get enough treats done for tomorrow. Besides, that would be wasteful. Especially when beef broth and peanut butter are delicious together.” She takes a spoon from the counter and swipes it into the bowl, emerging with a dollop of batter. She steps closer, a devious grin curving her lips that reminds me how much I enjoy the contrast of her cute as hell face and diabolical mind. “Come on, take a lick. I promise, you won’t be sorry.”