Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
A jar of pureed sweet potatoes sits just out of reach with the spoon sticking out. I would feed him, but he only likes it when Dad does. No one else does it with sound effects and goofy faces, so he pitches a fit. There’s enough chaos without the baby screaming too.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask the other kids.
“Daddy had to wash up,” Destiny says, cocking her head in my direction. “He smelled like animal guts.”
Destiny, like Ronan, can’t see well. But where Ronan’s vision was corrected with glasses, Dez’s is unfixable. That’s what the doctor told my parents when they took her into town. She’s mostly blind and can only see dark shapes. Though she’s fourteen and it’s all she’s ever known, I still think it must really suck for her. I can’t imagine not being able to hunt or read.
Mom breezes out of the kitchen with a platter in hand. She sets it on the table before rushing back to the kitchen. Declan, only three, attempts to reach for one of the slivers of meat, but Dakota smacks his hand. At five, Dakota thinks he’s Declan’s boss.
“Kota,” I chide, shooting Dakota a death glare. “Hit him again and I’ll tear you up with Dad’s belt.”
Declan’s lip wobbles and Dakota scowls at me. Mom is so busy with the baby and cooking, she lets Dakota get away with murder. Sometimes I feel like I’m Dakota’s mom. If I really were his mom, I’d take great pleasure in spanking him for being such a brat.
“You can’t spank me,” Kota taunts as he pushes his messy brown hair out of his eyes. “Daddy will spank you back.”
I shrug and flash him an unbothered grin. “It’ll be worth it. I bet I can spank harder than Dad.”
“Da!” Dawson cries out, throwing both hands in the air. “Da!”
Heavy footsteps thud through the house, which means Dad’s here. I shoot Dakota a warning look not to tattle on me or I’ll tattle right back. Since there’s nothing new about this relationship between me and my little brother, he wisely keeps his mouth shut.
Dad stops to kiss the top of each of our heads. I adore my dad. Where Mom is kind of bossy and annoying, Dad is fun and loving. He teaches us all the cool stuff like hunting and fishing and building cabins. All Mom wants me to do is be trapped inside this house like her, cooking and washing and cleaning. It’s much more exciting hanging with Dad and my older brothers.
My dad is much older than Mom. I don’t think I’ve ever asked what their age difference is, nor have I really cared. All I know is his messy, dark brown hair is streaked with lots of silver and his beard is also graying. Aside from the crow’s feet near his eyes and the permanent scowl lines between his brows, he’s otherwise a nice, fit specimen despite his older age and I can see why Mom practically melts in his presence. Dad is muscular, tall, and incredibly strong. He has this powerful, authoritative aura that draws you to him and implores you to be obedient.
Dad ruffles Dawson’s hair as he comes into the dining area before sauntering over to Mom in the adjacent kitchen. She stops fussing over the stove to let him sweep her into his powerful arms. When I see them like this, I’m almost eager for my own future and husband. It gives me butterflies in my stomach. The way he holds her as though she’s the most precious thing in his world and kisses her like she might vanish in an instant.
Would Wild be that way to me?
I nearly gag at the thought. Wild loves himself too much to love anyone else. I want someone like Dad.
Like Ronan.
Heat burns at my cheeks and I force my gaze elsewhere. The kids are chattering noisily, and I wish my older brothers were here. As if on cue, I see three tall, broad men through the window, walking along the gravel path from the gate to the big house.
Rowdy with his crazy man-bun and beard.
Ryder, who keeps playfully trying to jump onto Ronan’s back.
And Ronan.
Beautiful, wonderful Ronan.
I stare at them until they disappear from sight on the porch. My heart trips over itself at the sound of thunderous footsteps entering the house behind me. Ryder is the loudest, greeting everyone as he enters. Ronan’s hellos are more subdued, but at least he speaks. Rowdy doesn’t say a word. I’m thrilled when Ronan chooses the seat beside me. Sometimes Ryder takes it to annoy me, but not today. He avoids eye contact with me at all costs. Even though that means I get what I want—Ronan, my knife, and Ryder to leave me alone—something niggles at me.
Something doesn’t feel right.
Dinner is crazy like usual. Everyone talks over one another, trying to be heard. Our family is huge and if you want to say your piece, you have to have the loudest voice. Every now and again, Dad’s voice will boom with his loving authority and it all calms back down.