Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Long.” She glances at Win when she announces her temp is ninety-eight point nine. “No fever.”
“Maybe this thing is broken,” Win grumbles, putting the thermometer back in its case, then she runs out of the kitchen as another song begins to play from the TV. Em laughs, watching her before turning her attention to me when the oven timer I set dings.
I grab the potholders off the hook near the stove and open the oven door to take out the roast and potatoes I put in this afternoon.
“You cooked?”
“I’m going to pretend I’m not offended that you sound so surprised.” I raise a brow as she gets closer to look over my shoulder when I open the lid on the Dutch oven.
“I haven’t seen you cook, so I didn’t know you could.” Her eyes meet mine. “It smells good.”
“It will taste even better.” I lean over to kiss her, then ask, “You want a glass of wine?”
“Please, I’m just going to change and get out my heels.” She glances over at Winter, who is once again performing on top of the solid-wood coffee table. She shakes her head and mumbles, “I thought for sure she’d still be lying on the couch when I got home.”
“It never lasts long.”
“Wild.” She smiles up at me, resting her hand on my chest. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
“My favorite Disney character is the Queen of Hearts. You?”
She laughs and leans up, kissing the underside of my jaw. “The chicken from Moana. I’ll be right back.”
I watch her ass in the jeans she wore today as she walks across the living room to the bedroom. She must feel my gaze on her, because she glances at me over her shoulder and rolls her eyes when she finds me checking her out. Laughing, I go to the fridge and take out the bottle of white wine she opened a few days ago, then take down a glass. As I’m about to uncork it, my cell rings.
When I see it’s Clay, I put it to my ear. “What’s up?”
“How’s Winter feeling?”
“She’s currently dancing around the living room.”
“So back to normal.” He laughs. “Figures.”
“You already know.” I pour Em’s wine into her glass.
“I got the information you and Tucker needed.” His tone is suddenly serious. “Can you two come up after you get Win to bed?”
“Yeah, I’ll send him a message.”
“See you then.” He hangs up, and I shoot Tucker a message and hope like fuck that Clay has something we can use against Stedman, since Tucker had zero luck in getting Sally to even agree to speak with him.
After checking on Winter, who is asleep with Dolly, I walk to the bedroom and push open the door, finding Emma in bed with her computer on her lap, hair up in a messy bun, and a pair of oversized glasses perched on the end of her nose.
Her eyes come to me, and I instantly start to harden.
“If I didn’t need to go up to talk with Tucker and Clay, I’d request that you role play as a sexy librarian.” The smile she gives me says she would be down for that role, and I hate my job a little more. I walk toward the bed and lean over the side, cupping the back of her head so I can pull her forward for a kiss.
“What are you watching?” I look down at her computer.
“A video for work. I’m helping teach a class in a couple of weeks, so I want to make sure I cover the things some of the other teachers who have taught this class missed or that a stylist felt they should have spent more time on.”
“You love your job.”
“I do.” Her smile is soft.
“Have you thought about opening your own salon? Or maybe you and Miranda doing that?”
“We talked about it before, but life happened, so maybe one day.” She shrugs then adds. “I think Miranda and I both like where we are right now. Polly is amazing and since we rent our chairs from her, we keep most of what we make without all the overhead which is nice.”
“That makes sense.” I touch my lips to hers once more, then stand. “Hopefully, I won’t be long.”
“I’ll be here either way,” she says absently, going back to her video. I turn for the door, stepping around a box she brought over filled with shoes that I haven’t put in the closet yet. I smile to myself, wondering if she realizes she’s basically moving in at this point. Almost daily, she brings clothes and whatever she thinks she might need. And it’s all been mysteriously finding its way into drawers and onto shelves or hangers in the closet.
That mystery being me.
When I get upstairs, Clay’s door is unlocked, so I walk in. Willow, lying on the couch watching TV with Skye, tips her head back with a smile on her face.