Things We Burn Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports, Virgin Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
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“I like him,” my mother interrupted before I could yell at Kane some more. Or cry.

“Of course, you do, mother,” I sighed. “He’s immensely likable.”

She grinned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is when I’m trying to be angry with him.”

Kane squeezed me, lips still curled in that familiar smile.

“Well, you keep trying, and then sit your butt down there.” Mom still had the wooden spoon, using it to point to the breakfast bar. “Kane informed me you have a ritual of getting pastries from the local bakery every morning, and I’m not one to get in the way of a ritual or of supporting a local business, but I’m going to add a little to the breakfast.”

She turned to plate eggs along with toast, sausages and a bowl of fruit on the side. “Choline, protein, antioxidants,” she chimed as she carried the plate to the kitchen island while Kane walked us both there.

“I can walk,” I snapped at him, still mad about the entire situation.

“I know.” He lifted me onto the barstool then kissed my neck. “This is just way more fun.”

I struggled to keep my frown in place. Especially since my stomach growled at the large plate in front of me, croissants added by my mother after she set them down.

“Coffee!” she half shouted, turning to the machine and banging at it loudly.

I winced, thinking about the expensive machine.

“One cup.” She pointed at me again, this time with the portafilter.

“I can make it,” I offered, trying to get up to save my machine more than anything.

“Nope!” my mother sang. “You are going to let me take care of you even if I have to get your handsome man to tie you down in order to do so.” She waggled her brows. “Unless he’s already done that.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “And it only took five minutes for you to make a sexual innuendo.”

My mother had not always been so sexually open. It was only in my adult years that comments like this came out. When I was younger, entering into womanhood, the topic was always taboo, awkward. My mother tried to talk about it with me, but she seemed as embarrassed as I was. And factoring in the distance between us after my father’s death, the subject of sexuality and my relationship to it was stunted at best.

I’m not sure when the pendulum swung. Maybe when she started to get into more of her ‘spiritual’ side. Maybe it was meeting my stepfather, who was miles different from my biological father. Maybe it was Maisie coming of age, a full six years behind me and her treating sexuality as she did everything else, as if it were no big deal. She spoke about it with whomever she felt like.

Whatever the catalyst, my mother was overcorrecting with me. Too much.

I focused on my eggs.

“I won’t have to tie her down,” Kane answered for me. “Chef will let us take care of her. But I will take the suggestion about restraints; they’re always fun.”

I scowled up at Kane who was already flashing a mischievous grin in my direction, the asshole. No doubt he’d caught how uncomfortable I was and wanted to push the envelope further.

Kane, quite obviously, had no hang-ups in the sexual department.

I kept my attention on my eggs as Mom moved around the kitchen, getting cleaned up and Kane settled beside me on the barstool, a plate of eggs in front of him too.

“I know it won’t measure up to whatever fancy thing you can whip up,” Mom said, for the first time sounding a little unsure of herself. “But it’ll fill your belly.”

All my complicated feelings toward my mother melted away, and I looked up at her. “This is great, Mom, seriously. I don’t cook like this. Simple. Hearty. Just what she and I need.”

The softness in which I spoke to my mother was unfamiliar. I’d made it my business to create a barrier between us, to speak to her in the cool way I did to those in my kitchen.

My barriers were down now, and I didn’t have the energy to put them back up.

My mother’s returning beaming smile made me feel warm inside in a way I hadn’t let myself feel since my father had died.

Maisie is here too,” she informed me. “She’s just getting settled at the inn.”

“Maisie is here?” I practically yelled.

“Naturally, she’s here.” Mom continued wiping the counter. “She’s your sister, and you’re about to have your first baby.”

She spoke as though that explained everything.

“People have babies all the time,” I returned. “I’m not special, nor do I require either of you to drop everything in order to … what?”

“Help,” my mother said softly. “In order to help. It would be a great gift, if you, Avery Hart, would let us do that.”



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