Titus – The Hawthornes (The Aces’ Sons #12) Read Online Nicole Jacquelyn

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Mafia, MC Tags Authors: Series: The Aces' Sons Series by Nicole Jacquelyn
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Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
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“I’m sorry,” she replied miserably.

“Don’t tell me.” I straightened back up.

“Sorry for being rude,” Ariel called out to Titus.

“No worries,” Titus replied easily. “I remembered that you don’t like ’em fried.”

“I like all kinds of eggs,” Flora announced from her seat.

“You didn’t have to make us breakfast,” I murmured, joining Titus near the stove.

The kettle was hot already.

“I don’t mind,” he replied, handing me a mug. “Me and Flora were just hangin’ out anyway.”

“Thank you.” I reached for the tea cupboard. “I can’t believe I slept so late.”

“We were up pretty late waitin’ on news,” he reminded me. “Otto text a little while ago. They’ll be home in about an hour.”

“Does Flora know?” I asked, glancing at my niece.

“Not yet. Figured it would be better to surprise her than have her askin’ how much longer every five minutes.”

“Good thinking,” I said with a huff of laughter.

“I can’t wait to see the little guy,” he said quietly. “I wonder who he looks like.”

“Like a baby,” I replied dryly. “Newborns don’t really look like anyone. Neither of my girls looked anything like they look now.”

“Really?” He looked over at them.

“Nope. And Ariel had such a conehead that I completely panicked.”

“Oh shit.”

I nodded. “It rounded out eventually, but those first few days were scary. I wouldn’t let anyone take her hat off.”

Titus laughed. “Diana wasn’t a conehead?”

“She was,” I conceded. “But it wasn’t as bad as Ariel’s… or maybe I just knew it wouldn’t stay that way so it didn’t bother me as much.”

“I can’t remember any of my nieces or nephews having weird shaped heads,” he said as he put scrambled eggs on two plates and brought the pan back to the stove. “But, now that I’m thinkin’ about it, I don’t think I ever saw them as newborns without hats.”

I watched as he put butter into the pan, swishing it around like he’d done it a million times before. Then he cracked a few eggs into the pan one handed. My mouth nearly dropped open.

“Have I impressed you?” he joked, smiling.

“You cook a lot?”

“I don’t usually have any reason to make breakfast,” he admitted. “But when I was about twelve, my mom told me that girls would be really impressed if I could crack eggs one handed. I didn’t realize she’d known I’d spend so much time practicin’ that she wouldn’t have to make anything with eggs in it for months.”

“She tricked you.” I grinned.

“She did,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’m her fourth boy so she knew just which buttons to push.”

“Smart.”

“Sneaky,” he clarified with a chuckle. “But I can crack eggs one handed which is pretty cool.”

“I have to use both hands,” I conceded, pulling my tea bag out so I could throw it away.

“So, you were impressed,” he teased.

I helped him carry the plates of bacon, toast, and eggs to the table. He’d made Flora and Ariel their own scrambled eggs and fried the rest.

“Thank you for my mixed eggs,” Ariel said timidly. I felt badly for embarrassing her, but I also really hoped she wouldn’t do it again. There was never any way to keep little kids from saying whatever the heck popped into their heads, but I also didn’t want to raise kids that would hurt people’s feelings after they’d done something nice for them.

“You’re welcome.”

Titus finished his food first. His manners were impeccable, but he ate like someone was about to snatch his food from him at any second.

He grimaced in embarrassment as he got up from his spot and realized I was looking at him. “Remember, I have three older brothers,” he said apologetically. “And they were animals. If I didn’t hurry, I couldn’t get seconds. I guess I didn’t grow out of it.”

“Daddy eats fast, too,” Flora said. “Mommy said he better slow down or he’s gonna choke.”

“That’s good advice,” Titus said laughingly. He went straight to the sink to rinse his plate.

Stuffing the last bit of my toast in my mouth, I stared as he started rinsing and putting dishes into the dishwasher.

“It’s my turn,” I reminded him after I’d swallowed.

“Finish your breakfast,” he ordered, not bothering to look at me.

“You cooked,” I argued.

“There’s only a few dishes.”

I quickly ate my last two bites of eggs and gave my last piece of bacon to Diana.

“Okay, I’m done,” I announced, carrying my plate to the sink.

“Feel free,” Titus said, his lips twitching as he threw his hands up in surrender.

The only things left in the sink were the spatula he’d used and a single fork.

“Don’t touch that,” I warned as he reached for the clean pan he’d set on the counter. “I’ll dry it.”

“I’m just standin’ here,” he protested.

“You’re the one who insisted that whoever cooks doesn’t clean up,” I pointed out as I quickly rinsed and loaded the dishes as the big girls carried their plates over.



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