Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
I needed to get back into the kitchen, where everything made sense.
“I’m, uh, I’m gonna finish up dinner. I got something for you from Sweetheart Bakery. From Daisy’s Grams. It’s, uh, it’s on the kitchen table.”
I couldn’t seem to get a word out without tripping over it. The whole trick-or-treat thing left me feeling weird. The second Nicky saw that card, I knew my instincts were right. Nicky knew exactly how awesome it was, and that was fucking cool.
But the rest of it—everybody acting so proud, with their soft looks and gentle smiles. It’s not what I was used to, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. On top of that, Savannah being awkward and, fine, me being all awkward . . .
I stopped myself. Why was I being awkward? What was my problem? It wasn’t a big deal. Nicky was a cool kid, and he was sick. I did him a favor. Nothing for everyone to get all worked up over. I rolled my shoulders, watching as Savannah fled the scullery. She strode through the kitchen, slowing when she saw the bag of chocolates from Sweetheart Bakery on the table. She lifted it, unfolded the top, and took a deep breath.
I could almost smell the rich chocolate, sugar, and a hint of vanilla. Ever since the night I’d kissed her, all it took was a scent of chocolate to bring me right back to the feel of her under my hands. Her gasps, the heat of her kiss.
Okay, I’d rather go back to awkward. Hadn’t I decided that wasn’t going to happen again? I’d definitely decided that wasn’t going to happen again.
She folded the bag closed and looked at the second, larger bag. Lifting it carefully, she opened it and smiled a secret smile. Mrs. Hutchins had been right. Savannah loved those ginger molasses cookies.
Gathering her booty in her arms, Savannah hurried down the hall after Nicky, probably ready to get him out of that costume and back into bed. Without his stash of candy.
I watched her go with an odd sense of loss.
Which didn’t make any sense. I should be glad everything had gone well. Nicky was happy, and he was out of my hair in time for me to finish dinner on schedule. What more did I want?
Nothing. Everything was exactly as planned. Right?
Right.
Wishing I believed myself, I returned to the kitchen and got busy with my dinner prep.
Chapter Fifteen
SAVANNAH
“No, Finn, you mind your own work. I’ve got this,” my mother said, shooing Finn away as if he were a pest. The side of Finn’s mouth quirked, and he shook his head but didn’t protest.
“Just give me a second, Miss Martha, and I’ll be out of your hair.” He added a sprig of rosemary to the roast in front of him, checking something, the seasoning maybe—I don’t know, I’m no cook—before he slid it in the oven. I tried not to look at his butt when he leaned over, but really, could anyone blame me? It was a fairly spectacular ass as asses went.
It was one of the bonuses of working at Heartstone Manor. There was no shortage of attractive men. So much eye candy. Not that I wanted to date any of them. And not that it would have been the slightest bit appropriate if I did. This was a home. It was my home, in a way. It was also my place of employment. And I did not need to complicate my life like that. But I could look all I wanted.
Looking was free.
I caught my mother’s eyes on Finn’s ass and almost kicked her under the table, but I didn’t want her to know I’d noticed her noticing. She was my mom, but she was still a woman, and Finn had an ass worth looking at.
“I’ll get tea together,” I said. “We can have a quiet one before the boys are home from school.”
“No,” my mother said, rising. “I’ll get tea together. You sit. Put your feet up.”
“Mom—”
“Savannah, if anybody knows your workload, it’s me, and on top of that, you’re moving tomorrow, and Nicky’s just barely over his cold. Sit, put your feet up. I’ll bring you some tea and a snack.”
I sat. She was right. It had been almost a week since Halloween, and, like most kids, Nicky had bounced back quickly. I’d somehow escaped getting sick, a fact I was extremely grateful for. Moving was stressful enough. I did not want to do it with a cold.
On his way out the door, Finn added, “There are some ginger molasses cookies in the breadbox. Daisy’s recipe. Or as close as I could get.”
“Really?” I couldn’t help asking.
“Really,” Finn confirmed. “I’m trying to crack it. Let me know how close they are.”
“Daisy wouldn’t give you the recipe?”
“She might, but I don’t want to ask. I think I can figure it out on my own.” At my confused look, Finn said, “We have a friendly competition going on. I’m trying to figure out her ginger molasses cookies, and she’s determined to deconstruct those pear tarts we had last week. She swears she’s almost there with the tarts.”