Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
While they were gone, I stood awkwardly and struggled with what to do. It seemed rude to get on my phone, so I glanced around, curious about his parents’ place. It didn’t look like this was the house Noah had grown up in.
The entryway was open, there was a dining area to the right and the living room straight back, and a gallery wall of pictures hung over one of the sofas. My eye went instantly to the ones of Noah growing up.
I didn’t consider if it was rude. I let my feet carry me forward as my gaze traveled over the images of him and his family. It was mostly vacation pictures throughout the years, the family in front of the Washington Monument, the Grand Canyon, at Disney World.
There were a few where the kids were helping their dad with a tour. One of his older brothers’ weddings. Noah’s college graduation.
Damn, he’d always been hot. Like he’d skipped right over the awkward teenage years. I was envious.
When I finished looking at the pictures, I made the mistake of turning to my right and peered into the kitchen. I sucked in a breath and held it tightly in my lungs.
Used pans were stacked beside the sink. A dish towel that hung on the oven had brown stains from where hands had been dried on it repeatedly. The floor looked like it hadn’t been swept in a month.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
There was a kitchen table that had a collection of dirty plates, silverware, and wadded up paper napkins. It didn’t seem like his parents’ meal had been interrupted, since his father had gone to take a shower.
No, these plates had been abandoned here.
My mother would put up with almost anything. Her only absolute, unbreakable rule was when you were finished eating, you took your plate to the sink. I could not tolerate food and dirty dishes left sitting out, and before I knew it, I was stacking the plates.
They have so much to deal with. Might as well be useful.
I made quick work of loading the dishwasher, tossing the used napkins away, and wiping down the tabletop with a damp paper towel. And when that was done, I tackled the pans by the sink. If I hurried and got them done, I might have time to wipe down the kitchen counters and look for a broom.
The pans clanked together as I stacked one clean one on top of the next.
“What are you doing?”
I startled at the sound of Noah’s voice and dropped the pan in the sink, making the sudsy water slosh around. Thankfully, he sounded surprised and not angry, and when I turned to face him, he only looked confused. I’d found a clean dishtowel under the sink earlier and used it to dry my hands.
“I’m keeping busy,” I said, channeling my mother. “How’s your dad?”
He sighed and walked toward me, stopping only a foot away, so I could peer up into his worried eyes. “He’s all right,” he lowered his voice, “but he’s stubborn as shit.” His gaze went to the stack of pans that were drying on the counter and flicked to the doorway leading to the living room. “You should stop cleaning. If my mom comes in here and sees what you’re doing, she’ll be embarrassed.”
I’d been so compelled to clean, I hadn’t thought about my actions or if they’d come off as offensive. They hadn’t known I was coming, nor had I been invited into their home, and if the roles were reversed, I would have been mortified.
Shit.
“It’s why I was nervous on the drive over here,” he added. Why did he look so sheepish? “I knew it would be bad. Maybe even overwhelming for you.”
My heart beat a little quicker. He’d been concerned for his father, sure, but he’d also been thinking about me during the drive. He got that mess bothered me, and fuck if he didn’t know me better in a few short months than nearly anyone else.
Certainly better than your last boyfriend.
I motioned to the sink and gave him an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” My expression turned serious. “With everything your parents are going through, it’s totally understandable if stuff like this falls to the wayside. I’m happy to help. And wouldn’t it be nice for them to have one less thing to deal with right now?”
His shoulders straightened and he tilted his head. He was acting like my question was so unexpected, he didn’t know how to deal with it. As if consideration wasn’t something he was sure I was capable of. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, and it bristled against the whiskers of his beard, and then his eyes lit with warmth.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
I thrust the dish towel at him and cast my other hand toward the stack of drip-drying pans. “Then help me. Dry these and put them away, so we can finish before your mom catches us.”