Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Two things hit me. The incredible aroma of something cooking, and the laughter of Quinn and Abby coming from the kitchen. Both were foreign occurrences for me. I was used to an empty house—and silence.
But they made me smile, and I strode forward, spying my girls at the counter, making cookies.
The thought caught me off guard. My girls. I repeated the words in my head. I liked how they sounded.
I paused and watched them, their heads so close it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began, the way their dark hair wove together. The air was rife with the scent of chocolate and sugar. A large bowl of potato salad sat to one side, making my mouth water. I saw the steaks resting in marinade and a large pile of skewered fresh vegetables ready to join them on the grill.
“You know,” I drawled. “I could call the local constable and have you ladies arrested for break and enter.”
They looked up, surprised. That turned to delight when Abby grinned widely. “Farmer John!” she crowed. “We’re making cookies!”
I pushed off the doorframe. “I can smell them.” I snuck one, popping it into my mouth and chewing. “Delicious.”
I met Quinn’s eyes and, unable to stop myself, looped an arm around her waist and pulled her in. Remembering Abby, I pressed a kiss to Quinn’s cheek. “Hey.”
She pulled back, her cheeks flushing. “Hey, yourself.” Then she tossed her hair. “You can’t have us arrested since we were given a key.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Is that a fact?”
She nodded in triumph. “Yes. Laura gave it to me.”
I bent and pressed a kiss to Abby’s head, stroking her soft hair and winking at her. “And how did you accomplish that?”
Quinn grinned. “Bribing her with dinner.”
I looked around, suddenly understanding the amount of food being prepped. “Ah.”
“She’s bringing some chicken skewers to add to the protein portion. She offered me the key so we could come and get started. She said you wouldn’t mind…” Quinn trailed off, looking nervous.
Abby was busy rolling a ball of dough for the cookie tray, and I quickly pressed a hard kiss to Quinn’s full mouth. “I don’t mind at all,” I assured her. “Except for the fact that I have to share you.”
“Stop it,” she murmured.
“What time are they coming?”
“About an hour.”
“Okay, I’m going to go shower so I don’t smell like dust, dirt, and cows.”
Abby wrinkled her nose. “Eww.”
She squealed with laughter as I hoisted her into the air and blew a raspberry on her stomach. “Careful,” I warned. “Or I’ll put you in the field, and you’ll be all smelly too.”
She kept laughing, and I set her down, heading to the door. I looked over my shoulder at the sight.
My girls in my kitchen. My family coming to join us.
What a great day.
“Tell me more about John as a kid,” Quinn urged, laughter glinting in her eyes.
“I think you’ve heard enough,” I said dryly, sipping my beer and shaking my head at my sister, who was enjoying herself.
Far too much, in my opinion.
Quinn and Abby had heard about my attempt to help my gramps plant seeds. How I had decided one wasn’t enough in a hole and put in about a dozen—of different types of seeds.
“Gramps spent hours trying to thin out the plants and fix them,” Laura said, laughing. “John also decided plants needed more water than Gramps thought, so he drowned half the crop before Gramps got to him.”
Laura ignored me. She leaned over, her amusement high as she spoke to Quinn. “When he was young, he got a bike.”
“Like Cody,” Abby piped up.
Laura nodded. “He was a bit younger and the bike was used, but he spent hours painting it and shining it up. He was so excited, and he was going to the cliff to show it off to his friends.”
I groaned. “Not this.”
“What happened?” Quinn asked, resting her elbow on the table and grinning.
Bob caught my eye and lifted one shoulder as if to say, “Give it up, man. No point fighting it.”
He was right, so I sat back and took another sip of my beer.
“Have you been to the cliff in the park?” Laura asked, her eyes dancing.
“No,” Quinn replied. “I haven’t.”
“Cliff is a suggestive word,” I muttered. “More like a bluff.”
Laura and Bob laughed. “Now. Back then, it seemed huge.” Laura turned to Quinn. “The water is fairly shallow along the beach. By the cliff, there’s a drop off into the water, and at that point, it’s much deeper. When we were kids, you’d dare someone to jump—it was a big thing.”
“I see.”
“Anyway, another big thing was to pedal your bike really fast toward the cliff, then turn before you got there, hitting your brakes hard. The one closest to the edge of the cliff won.”
“What was the prize?” Quinn asked.