Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 155903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
“You said corn and camellias. Isn’t that your way of swearing? Some of that country charm.”
She rolled her eyes at him.
“Watch those eyes, brat.”
Faith shifted around in her seat. She could sit well enough today, but she could definitely feel that she’d been spanked last night.
Waiting until he’d turned around, she poked her tongue out at him.
“And your tongue,” he warned. “Unless you want me to do something else with it.”
Um. She might.
But she put her tongue away in case he wasn’t talking about a blow job. With Reuben, it could be anything.
“Corn and camellias is what I say to make myself feel better. Like words of affirmation. Or thinking about your happy place or something like that.”
“Corn and camellias are your happy place?” he asked.
“Well. Yeah. My family grows corn and I know probably a hundred recipes to make with it. Camellias are my favorite flowers. So I guess you could say that corn and camellias are my love language.”
“I’m your love language,” he muttered.
No, he wasn’t.
But he might well be the man she loved. Perhaps it would be best if she kept her mouth shut, though.
“Okay. Good to know. Your happy words are probably something like destroy and conquer. Or veal and lamb.”
“Why the hell would my happy words be baby animals?” he asked.
“Oh, because I figure you like eating them. No?”
“You don’t have a very good opinion of me, do you?” he asked drily. “I like to eat young animals and destroy and conquer.”
“Umm.” Wow. She’d really dug herself a hole, hadn’t she?
He placed a Danish and a croissant on her plate and then pulled over the bowl of fruit.
“This looks so delicious. You did an amazing job. I’m sorry I got coffee everywhere. I’ll try to get the stain out. Actually, I should probably soak it now. I’ll just move everything off the table and—”
She stood and he gently grasped hold of her arm, tugging her back into her seat. Then he sat next to her.
“Leave the tablecloth.”
“But it will stain,” she protested.
“So?”
She bit her lip. She’d still try to get the stain out later.
“You’re not washing the damn tablecloth, baby.”
She sighed as he forked up a piece of strawberry and held it up for her.
Faith took the strawberry without thought.
“And I can’t claim that I set this all up. My housekeeper came in and did it.”
“On a Sunday?” She gaped at him.
“Yep.” He held up a piece of kiwi.
She shook her head. “No, thanks.”
“Eat it. It’s good for you.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like kiwi. She really came in on a Sunday?”
“I pay her very well. Would you like a drink of juice?”
“Yes, please.” She sighed longingly as she stared at the coffee. “Pineapple, please.”
Reuben poured her a glass of juice and held it up for her to sip from. She tried to take the glass, but he brushed her hand away.
All right. She guessed he didn’t want a repeat of the coffee-massacre.
And she actually liked him doing all of these things for her. Sometimes, it felt like her Little was starved of affection. And each of these gestures was feeding her. Bit by bit.
She still really needed some more coffee. Maybe she could sneak up to the kitchen back at Cammie’s without Eric seeing her.
During the weekends, he stayed glued to the television in the living room anyway.
Reuben reached over and grabbed her cup of coffee, taking a sip from it.
Oh no, now that was just mean.
Was he deliberately taunting her with it?
How could he be so cruel?
“What’s that face for? You look like someone ran your puppy over.”
She gasped. “Oh no, that would be a far more devastated face. Like this.”
Faith showed him her devastated face.
“Good to know. Here.” He held the cup of coffee up to her lips. “It’s cooler now.”
That didn’t sound pleasant, but she was desperate for some caffeine, so she gulped it down.
“Easy, baby. You don’t want to choke.” He set the cup of coffee down and picked up the Danish, holding it to her mouth. “Now, about you moving in.”
That time, it was flakes of pastry that went everywhere as she coughed.
“I think we might need to get you checked by a doctor,” he murmured, grabbing a napkin to clean her up again.
Great. She’d just gotten Danish everywhere.
Faith groaned. “This is all your fault.”
Reuben raised his eyebrows. “It’s my fault that you keep spitting things out? How do you figure that?”
“Because you keep talking about me moving in here.”
“That’s a problem?”
“Yes!”
“What exactly is the problem?” he asked calmly.
“Well, for one, we work together.”
“And that’s an issue?” he asked.
“Well . . . what if you get sick of seeing me all the time?”
“Having you with me all the time is a positive. It means that I can keep an eye on you. Otherwise, I’d just have to pay someone to watch over you. Next problem.”