Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
"I'm really excited about it," I tell him. "I just have to find a commercial kitchen to use."
"You know," he says as he partially sits up so that he's leaning over me.
He shifts a lock of hair behind my ear as he pauses.
"What is it?" I ask, seeing the hesitation in his eyes.
"I don't want to scare you."
"I promise not to freak out," I vow, even though I don't know what he's about to say.
"I haven't fully committed to the remodel at my house. I know what's required to get something rated as a commercial kitchen because of all the remodeling I've done. I bet I can make a few adjustments and have that kitchen approved for commercial use."
I blink up at him, dumbfounded by the offer.
"Really?" I ask, that too-good-to-be-true feeling growing with his words.
"Why not?" he asks with a shrug. "It's going to be our home, and as much as you enjoy cooking for others, I'd like you to be comfortable. Plus, it'll be easier to work from there when the babies come."
"You don't think we're moving too fast?" I whisper, giving him the chance to pump the brakes if he feels like he has said too much.
He shakes his head. "I've wasted so much time where you're concerned, Riley. I don't want to waste a second more."
Chapter 40
Mac
My body aches, a much different kind of exhaustion than I'd have if I'd spent all day and night working rather than the way I spent it.
Worshipping Riley's body and spending hour after hour running my hands over her skin, my mouth kissing every inch of it is the way I'd like to die if I were given the choice.
The aches in my bones are the perfect combination of being satiated as well as being so fucking happy with how things have turned out that I feel like a fool because of the smile I can't wipe off of my face.
"Your cheeks are turning red. Why are they turning red, Riley?" I ask when I chance a glance at her at the stop sign in the middle of town.
As much as I'd like to spend every waking hour inside of her, I still have a job to do and people whose livelihood depends on me. She doesn't have a shift at the bookstore, so she opted to come to the house with me so I could get all the guys lined out for the day.
She swore she couldn't leave before throwing something together for breakfast, and on the drive over, I haven't decided whether my mouth was watering at the promise of how my evening was going to go or from the smell of the casserole she cooked that's nestled into the backseat. The French toast one she made the other day was sweet, but the one she threw together this morning is savory. I swear I never knew how delicious sausage, eggs, and vegetables could be until she pulled open the oven this morning.
"I don't think this was a good idea," she whispers.
"Riley," I groan. "We're meant to be together."
"I know that," she says as her brows draw together. "I mean, going to work with you this morning. They're all going to know what we did last night."
"And this morning," I remind her with a wide smile. "You missed a spot."
I point to her neck, chuckling as her hand immediately slaps over the dark mark my mouth left there.
I know I'm probably too old to be marking her where the world can see, but I feel like a fucking caveman. Now I fully understand why Chase, Cash, and Walker act the way they do about their women. I'm obsessed with Riley in the best way, and I want everyone to know she's mine.
Maybe the looks Ronnie was giving her the other day prompted the biggest mark on her neck after she mentioned making them breakfast. I need those fucking twins to know that she's mine.
"The guys already know we're together," I assure her.
"Because you've been talking to them about me?" she asks, and I can hear the hesitation in her voice.
"Because they saw us together, and there isn't a fool walking the street that could see how much I adore you and come up with any other conclusion," I explain. "You're it for me, baby, and I want the world to know."
She gives me a shy smile, her eyes glistening, and I hope she never gets used to me telling her how important she is to me. I want her to always have that same thrill in her eyes when I say the words.
"I think you're too good to me," she whispers, her hand reaching across the center console for mine.
"I think we're good together, baby. As corny as that sounds."
Her laughter is like a balm to my soul, and I know that I'm complete with this woman by my side. I didn't know I was even missing anything until her.