Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
I look at Mrs. Faircross and we share a nod.
“I’m sorry to steal her away on such short notice,” she says.
“Oh, no. When there’s special hot chocolate involved, no need to even ask,” I say.
Nell brightens, then pelts toward the stairs, not even waving to Grant. He looks after her with a snort.
“I see where I rank. Somewhere between pet dog and chopped liver,” he grumbles.
My heart swells with warmth and I laugh—really laugh—for the first time in forever.
I’ve missed this easy, happy feeling, so cozy and so right.
“On a school night, though?” I cluck my tongue. “You two always let her stay up past bedtime.”
Jensen chuckles, a laugh so much like his son’s, dry and deep. But it doesn’t fill me with the same tingles.
It just makes me feel comfortable, casually accepted as part of their family.
“I think we can indulge her a little longer. It ain’t spoiling the kid to let her have a few happy distractions. She still having trouble sleeping?” he asks.
“A little,” I admit. “We end up with a burr in bed with us most nights. I mean, she’ll fall asleep just fine, but usually she’ll wake up in the middle of the night and come into our room to read.”
“She was like that after the fire, too,” Jensen says solemnly. “But she just needed time and care, which you two are giving her plenty of.”
The warm approval in Grant’s father’s voice makes me blush so hard I duck my head.
Sometimes I’m a little awestruck.
I don’t know what to say.
They’ve always treated me like family, but ever since I moved in with Grant, it’s been different, somehow. Like pulling me into the fold and knowing this time, I’m not going anywhere.
Nell saves me from having to come up with a response by tumbling back down the stairs, her backpack only half-zipped and bursting with her pajamas and a change of clothes. Mr. Pickle dangles from the strap by a jingly pet collar she’s insisted on using ever since she almost lost him on the yacht.
“All ready!” she announces.
I sigh indulgently.
“No, you’re not. Hold still, munchkin.” I slip around behind her and tuck her bag in a little more neatly so I can zip it up. “Now you’re ready. Oh—wait, no, you’re not.” I step back and quickly scoop up her books from the coffee table, closing them with a sheet of her notebook tucked inside to mark her place, then unzip the bag again and start to wedge them in. “Don’t think I don’t know you stuffed this too full for your books.”
“Then why are you trying to put them in?” she asks sulkily. “You can’t.”
“I can. I have magic space-time bending powers.” More like enough persistence to compress the fabric until I can slide the books in and the notebooks behind them. After a solid minute of pushing, I zip the bag back up and pat it lightly. “There you go.”
Nell sticks her tongue out at me over her shoulder.
“Miss Delilah won’t be happy if you haven’t finished your homework.” I grin.
That works a charm.
Delilah really is like Wonder Woman to that kid.
“Okay! I’ll finish it tonight at Gammy’s.” Nell lets out a huge, dramatic sigh.
“We should get going.” Margaret holds her hand out for Nell’s bag. “Standing here in the doorway, letting in the chill. I want to get home before the snow starts, anyway.”
Snow? I peer past them at the deep, dark winter sky.
Not a star in sight past the porch overhang.
That darkness isn’t night sky.
It’s low-hanging, slate-grey clouds, heavy with the promise of snow.
“Go on,” I shoo. “Drive safe.”
Sure, it’s only a couple of blocks, but... did I mention I’m a bit of a safety freak lately?
Soon, it’s all goodbye hugs, Grant’s parents pulling me into a tangle of Faircrosses while Grant looks on with warm amusement.
I’m left dizzy from the whirlwind of back-pats, well-wishes, and then bundling Nell out the door.
After they’re gone, I brush my messy hair away from my face before I round on Grant, playfully putting my hands on my hips.
“Okay,” I say. “What’s up? What’s so important that you maneuvered your parents into taking Nell for the night?”
His slow grin tells me he hasn’t even tried to fool me.
He jerks his head at the door.
“Take a walk with me, Butterfly.”
“But it’s about to snow?” And I’m in a light-pink cashmere sweater and jeans.
Fine for indoors, but outside, not even borrowing his police windbreaker will keep me safe from those bone-stripping winds.
“I have the perfect solution.” He holds up a shopping bag I hadn’t noticed before in the happy chaos all around us. It has pink stripes running through it, printed with the logo of a local clothing store.
Blinking, I reach for it hesitantly.
It’s hefty when he drops the pink handle into my hand.
Curiously, I shove the tissue inside aside, peering in—and I’m rewarded with a glimpse of buttery soft brown leather. Eyes wide, I pull out a lovely fitted leather jacket with a padded inner lining and wool collar.