Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Once we were through, we walked straight out to the plane.
“To the beeeeeach,” Julia sang, waving her arms.
“My adorable girl.” I kissed her cheek and walked up the steps where one of the two flight attendants greeted us with a warm smile.
There were six seats, plus a private area in the back with an additional three seats. If I remembered correctly, two of those chairs in the back made a couch, and it would be Julia’s downtime place.
Cathryn and Julia sat across from each other on one side of the aisle, and Peyton dutifully took his seat across from me on the other side.
Mathis joined us and greeted the pilots once our luggage was loaded onto the aircraft.
As one of the flight attendants asked Cathryn if she wanted a drink, Peyton leaned forward and spoke for only me to hear.
“Should you perhaps punish me for being a bad influence on Julia’s vocabulary?”
Well, well.
My boy was getting bolder.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” I said, amused, “but Julia cursed long before you entered the picture. Her daddy’s language isn’t the cleanest either.” Although, I could admit I’d at least tried to pretend to care before. I’d made it clear that she wasn’t supposed to curse. “Lastly”—it was my turn to lean forward and lower my voice—“you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about my plans for you.”
“Hmpf.”
“My God.” I set down the report on the table between us and scrubbed at my eyes. “I’m already seeing numbers in my dreams.”
I was sick of them.
Peyton glanced up from his phone. “Shouldn’t you wear your glasses?”
“I should…” I never traveled with them. I hadn’t gotten into the habit of wearing them for work yet. I got them last year, after I kept getting headaches. “I need a break. That’s what I need.” After clearing the table, I flipped it down below the window again. I’d been looking forward to a view of Peyton across from me, but then we’d been served a light meal, and when the table was up, I’d figured I could get some work done too. No more, though. “You can part your legs for me a bit more.”
“What?”
I gave him a pointed look. “Do I need to repeat myself every time I have a demand?”
He flicked a nervous glance at the empty seats around us. Well, Mathis was asleep in the last row, and Cathryn and Julia were watching a movie in the back.
“No, sir.” Peyton cleared his throat and shifted in his seat to give me a proper manspread. He wore his dark navy suit today, and it fit him perfectly. White shirt, mercury tie.
I inhaled deeply and got comfortable in my seat, resting one ankle over my knee.
“I love dressing you,” I admitted. “Even Daddy wants to play with dolls every now and then.”
“Christ,” Peyton whispered under his breath.
I wanted to press my face against the swell of his crotch.
The flight attendant came to take another drink order, and I handed over the empty glass from the shallow cupholder in my armrest.
“Same, thank you. Whiskey, neat.”
“One for me too, please.” Peyton extended his glass as well. “Thank you.”
I absolutely loved that he was all man. He could be deliciously boyish at times, and so thoroughly lure out the decadent beast in me, but he was, first and foremost, a young man seeking to carve out his place in the world. He drank whiskey from time to time, sometimes wine, beer, and gin and tonic, even an old-fashioned once. I’d learned he took his coffee black. He was well-mannered, social, and never shied away from taking care of others. Naturally, his sister and mother, primarily, but I wasn’t blind to his fondness for my daughter. Peyton was wonderful with her, and I believed it was partly because he actually liked her.
He was also intelligent and educated, neither of which he showcased as if he had something to brag about. Instead, he waited for people to listen to him. He had patience, I’d discovered. Much more than I did. He listened before he spoke.
My hunger for knowing more about him kept growing.
I only got glimpses here and there. This was his first time seeing our country, and he was introspective enough that he kept his reactions mostly to himself. I’d seen his eyes light up at the sight of Boston Harbor, though he hadn’t said anything. He’d gazed in awe at the Golden Gate when we’d crossed it during our trip to San Francisco, and he’d people watched with enthusiasm in Santa Monica.
I wanted to get into his head.
“Where did your interest in history come from?” I asked.
He flashed a curious look at the change of topic, but he didn’t hesitate to answer. “My grandmother. Well, her whole family. She was the youngest and had six brothers who all fought in World War II. She saved their journals and letters and gave them to me.”