Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
She sighed. “No, of course not. You’re right.”
“Soon,” I whispered. “Sawyer knows we were together tonight, so I don’t think we have to hide if we go out again.”
“If?” Her eyes twinkled as she cocked her head.
“When.” I leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose.
“You’re leaving on a road trip Friday, right?”
I nodded.
“Damn.”
“Short this time, just three days. And when I return, we will have a…what do you call it? Do-over?”
She laughed. “Yes.”
I rested my hands on her hips, loving how it felt to have her in my lap.
“Do you need help in the kitchen?” I asked finally.
“I think I’m going to make pumpkin pies,” she said. “Do you like those?”
“Yes. This is an American tradition I enjoy.”
“Then you should enjoy watching me make it.” She got to her feet and held out her hands. She playfully pulled me up and I wrapped my arms around her.
“I enjoy everything when we are together,” I said quietly, looking deep into her eyes.
She bit her lower lip, gazing up at me. “I do too.”
I brushed her hair away from her face and leaned down to kiss her again. Her lips were addictive, calling to me every time I looked at her. This was going to be a problem tomorrow with Sawyer and Boone underfoot all day.
“If you keep this up,” she whispered breathlessly, “I may have to take you upstairs and have my way with you.”
I groaned. “This is very tempting, but maybe we should stick to baking tonight. I do not want Sawyer to try to kill me.”
She giggled, a sweet, lighthearted sound that made me want to hear her do it more often.
“I’ll protect you,” she said, sashaying into the kitchen and leaving me drooling after her delectable backside.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lucy
“Those are still really hot,” I cautioned as Sawyer speared a sausage ball with a toothpick and raised it to his mouth.
“Shit.” His eyes widened and he chewed quickly. “That burned my mouth.”
“If only you’d known it was hot.”
After swallowing, he gave me a look. “It’s already one fifteen, Luce. I’m starving.”
Blowing a strand of hair that had escaped my ponytail from my face, I glared at him. Stabbing a man who was demanding while someone was trying to cook an entire Thanksgiving spread alone had to be a reduced charge of manslaughter. If I could get a female judge, I’d probably only get probation.
“I’m cooking as fast as I can!” I raged. “I just put two appetizers out, and if you’ll give them a fucking minute to cool down then you can eat them.”
Kon was there, putting his hands on my shoulders. “You are doing great, Lucy. How can we help?”
“You guys could work on the corn casserole.”
“Touchdown!” Boone shouted from the family room. “Let’s fucking go, boys!”
Sawyer took off, not looking back. Kon tried to pretend he didn’t want to, but I could see the longing in his eyes.
“You can go watch football,” I said. “I’ve got this covered.”
“No, I want to help.”
I smiled and kissed him. “You’re the best, thank you. I promise I’ve got it covered. I just needed that little meltdown and now I’ll be fine.”
“This feels like a trick,” he said, his brow furrowed.
I laughed. “I’ll let you know if I need help, okay?”
He glanced at my wineglass. “I will refill that before I go.”
“Perfect.”
I regretted telling my mom not to come. She’d been eager to find help with her sister and make the trip, but not knowing where we’d be with Sawyer’s sobriety, I’d told her not to. And of course, being me, I’d taken on too much with this meal. The kitchen counters were covered in dishes.
“I’ve got this,” I assured myself softly. “Just one dish at a time.”
But that was tricky if I wanted everything to be done—and hot—at the same time. I’d never cooked Thanksgiving dinner for a man I was interested in, and I wanted everything to be just right.
I put a Bruno Mars album on shuffle on my phone and started chopping. I’d gotten through the onions and was starting the celery for the stuffing when someone knocked on the front door.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Someone was here on Thanksgiving? That didn’t feel right.
Kon and Sawyer both stalked out of the family room, their expressions solemn. Though I doubted Nate or whoever he had sent to watch me was knocking on the front door, I appreciated how much they both wanted to protect me.
The yell I heard when they answered the door sounded like a victory cry. I washed my hands to go see what was going on, but before I made it to the doorway, Lars walked through it, wearing oven mitts on each hand, and carrying a casserole dish.
“I have buffalo chicken mac and cheese,” the giant defender said.
I stared at him dumbly for a second before saying, “Um, okay.”