Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
He’d done it again.
“Of course not! I was just being polite. My mother would skin me alive if I didn’t offer to help.”
His mother would be horrified at his offer to do something as menial as cooking. A St. Bedes didn’t do manual labor. It was beneath them.
Even when their finances were down the toilet, that’s what other people were for.
“Okay, then. Well, I’m fine. What’s that?” There was curiosity on her face as she pointed at the sunscreen.
“Um, it’s sunscreen.”
“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose.
Fuck. Why did he find that so adorable?
He shouldn’t. He needed to stay strong against the allure of Maggie. She was crazy, messy, and she said exactly what came to mind. She was the opposite of any woman he’d ever dated.
And yet . . . she kept playing on his mind all day and night.
“Don’t dismiss it until he tells you about it,” Ian told her.
“It’s for me?”
“Ah, yeah,” he said, feeling uncharacteristically shy. This wasn’t him. He was always confident. That was the way his parents had raised him. To be able to handle any situation with poise.
Of course, they were awful, selfish people who cared about nothing but their reputations and their bank balances.
“It has a strawberry scent and is lighter, so it doesn’t feel so thick and heavy on your skin.”
“Really? I love strawberries.” She reached out to touch the bottle, then drew her hand back. “I can touch it?”
There was a strange note in her voice. She sounded almost young . . . and that shouldn’t intrigue him.
Not anymore.
“Sure. It’s yours.”
“A gift?” She hugged the bottle to her chest, smearing it in gunk. But that wasn’t what made him frown. She sounded like she never received gifts.
“All yours, sweetheart.”
He was aware of Ian and Jack studying her.
“Thank you so much!” She went to hug him and he stiffened. She drew back with a rueful grin. “Oops, don’t want gunk all over your nice clothes.”
Fucking idiot.
What did it matter if she got him dirty? There was no one here to yell at him. Or worse, give him the silent treatment. No one here cared if he was dirty or used the wrong fucking fork or knife.
But instead of reaching for her, he just nodded with a stiff smile. “You are welcome.”
“Now, you stay out of my kitchen. Understand?” She wriggled a finger at him.
“I wouldn’t dare come in until you tell me.”
With a grin, she turned and ran off. The bottle of sunscreen was still pressed to her chest.
“No running inside,” Ian barked.
Jameson was pretty certain that her running inside was the least of their worries.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked.
“Why? Because dinner is likely to be undercooked and give us food poisoning?” Jack asked.
“How much can you mess up sausages?” Ian asked, looking doubtful. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
Hmm. Jameson wasn’t so sure as he heard another crash.
“I have to go in.” Ian jumped to his feet, but Jack got up to block his way.
“You know you can’t,” he told Ian. “Sit back down.”
Suddenly, there was a shrill sound. An alarm.
Jack was the first to leave the room. Ian followed, then Jameson.
Upon entering the kitchen, they discovered it filled with smoke. The smoke alarm was going nuts, but Jameson ignored it as he searched for Maggie.
“Oh no! My cake! The potatoes!” she cried out as she reached for a pot on the stove. The same pot that was smoking.
“Stop!” Ian yelled. “Don’t touch it.”
Jameson reached her just in time, pulling her away from the pot. He stood on something squishy. What the heck was on the floor?
“My cake,” she moaned, staring down at the floor as Ian grabbed the pot and took it outside. Jack opened the doors and windows and turned the alarm off.
“Maggie,” he said hesitantly as she pulled out of his arms.
Was she crying?
“Maggie, don’t cry. It’s all right,” he said soothingly.
Ian walked back in. “The potatoes are burned. Shit. Was that the cake?”
With a low groan, Maggie turned and ran off.
Fuck. What a mess.
Ian took off after her. Jameson took a step after them, wanting to go after her. To check on her. Soothe her.
But he made himself stay where he was. Maggie wasn’t any of his business.
He should just leave her care to Ian.
18
“Maggie? Little girl, where are you?”
She scrunched down into the bathtub, pulling the blanket around her head as she heard Ian’s voice. Ziggy was in the bathtub with her and she knew she was getting him and the blanket all dirty.
It would have been a better idea to fill the tub with water before climbing in. Then some of her might have gotten clean.
But she wasn’t exactly thinking clearly when she’d climbed in here.
Tosser.
Disappointment.
Such a failure.
She wanted to pull at her hair but she could hear Ian moving through her bedroom. So she held back, trying to breathe deeply and slowly.