Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 93(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 93(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
She nods. I stand, and help her up, knowing she’s still dealing with a bad wheel. She grabs my flannel shirt off the chair and buttons it up, somehow looking just as sexy as she did when she was naked.
I throw on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts myself. Not out of shame, just because I think cooking buck-ass naked isn’t the best of ideas.
We head into the kitchen, and I set her up on a stool. She’s eager to help out so I set her to peeling some potatoes and carrots as I get to work.
“You make a big Christmas Eve dinner for just yourself?” she asks as she gets started, looking at all the ingredients I pull out.
“Sort of? I wouldn’t call it big. If I was cooking for a family I’d probably go more all out. Stuffing, maybe a turkey or ham, some rolls to go with it, and some sort of pie too. Just me here, I’ve got a roast, some gravy, carrots and potatoes.”
“Isn’t even that a lot for just one person?”
I shake my head as I prepare the roast to go into the oven. “I freeze some of it. It’s a meal for me to enjoy over the next few weeks.”
“Color me impressed.” She’s going through the potatoes quickly. This isn’t the first holiday dinner she’s helped with. “My cousin Sam can’t be arsed to do anything more than microwave some burritos when he’s all alone.”
“Helps me remember what home is, and reminds me of the family I want to have someday,” I explain. “Plus, knowing how to cook is pretty useful if you’re an athlete. It’s easy to know my macros if I make the food myself rather than leaving it to whatever is in those frozen burritos.”
“Gotta get your protein for your gains,” she says in a sing-songy voice.
“Brothers are gym rats, I presume?”
“A bit. They were really into it when they were image-conscious teenagers, before they realized just being themselves worked a lot better for getting the girls.”
I chuckle. “More girls than you like a man’s man instead of some sort of veiny bodybuilder.”
She visibly cringes. “I don’t see how anyone can find that sexy. You need someone who can be a little cuddly on top of strong, I think. You know, like you are, Baker.”
“I’ve never been described as cuddly before, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”
I slide the roast into the oven, and get to plopping the potatoes in the pot. “So, what are you after in life, Cookie?”
“What do you mean?” she asks, leaning on her hand, watching me, now that she’s completely done with the potatoes.
“What do you want to do with your life?”
“I don’t know, really.”
“You gotta have considered something. You’re a modern woman.”
She shrugs. “I really don’t know. I’m pretty happy just being a milkmaid for my father’s dairy farm. I make people happy and it’s pretty fulfilling. So I’m content with that.”
“Is that all you want?”
She shakes her head. “No. I guess I’m pretty stereotypical? I want a family eventually. A big one. It seems like such a distant dream for me though. It’s not like I’m going to suddenly get knocked up and start working on becoming a mother tomorrow.”
I laugh. “Is that your dream, though? Pregnant and surrounded by babies in the kitchen?”
She turns red. “Is that so wrong?”
“Of course not.”
She’s still flustered. “I guess growing up around all these cows has made me a bit jealous in a way.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“This is going to sound a bit crazy, but we’ve already been so crazy already, so, um... I guess I’ll tell you.”
I lean in to listen, very willing to hear her secrets.
“When I’m pregnant, when I’m starting to lactate... I’ve always wanted my man to be there. To suck on my tits when they’re good and full.”
“Full of milk?”
She nods. “What else would they be full of? Is that a super weird fantasy to admit to having?”
I run my hand through her hair. “No. It’s not.”
She raises an eyebrow. There’s nothing else to do but wait for the food to cook, so I step behind her and slip my hands under her shirt. She gasps as I slide my hands around her tits, pinching her nipples.
“You’re so big and heavy already. To imagine you good and pregnant, your udders full of milk, your belly swollen, God... you’ll be sexier than you are now. And you’re really fucking sexy already so that’s saying something, Cookie.”
She cackles and shoots me a sinful glare. “I told you my most secret fantasy. What about you, Baker? What do you want out of life?”
I think of joking about leather and whips, but I instead play it straight. “I’ve already made more than enough money through my career out on the ice. I saved my money well, made good investments, and now I’m well off enough that I never have to work again if I don’t want to. I’ve had a weird and hectic life. Now I just want something more normal. Something quieter, simpler.”