Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
An idea struck, though I wasn’t sure if it was a good one. “Are you a morning person?”
“Yes. Why?”
I gave her a smile. “You’ll see—and you might regret saying that.”
She looked confused but intrigued.
I stood up. “Dinner will be ready in twenty. Are you up for joining us on the deck?”
Her smile brightened the entire room. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
As I helped the twins finish their homework and set the table, it was the image of her smile, rather than the thought of her in that sexy lingerie, that stuck with me.
15
Alyssa
I felt better after dinner, and a little embarrassed that I’d confessed to being lonely to Spencer. It was ridiculous, any way that you looked at it. There were more people here than any house I’d ever lived in, yet they all left every day—I didn’t.
Throughout the meal, in between wiping my brow due to the fiery nature of Raphael’s cooking, I kept wondering what Spencer meant about me being an early riser. There had been a mischievous look on his face when he’d said that.
Later, when I sat between the twins on the sofa, there was fortunately no mention of my present from Sierra, though the pecan pralines were remembered with fondness. The book I was reading to them featured a group of children who run away and live in a treehouse. Between chapters, Lucas wanted to know more. “Was it a big treehouse?”
“I would imagine so,” I said. “All five of them slept in it, so it would have to be.”
“I bet they had hammocks, like out on the deck,” Charlotte said.
I nodded. “We can pretend the deck is a treehouse if you’d like. It’s high enough off the ground.”
Charlotte liked that idea, but Lucas didn’t. “It’s not a real treehouse. It’s got a sliding glass door.”
“And a whole house attached,” Charlotte added.
I closed the book. “What do you think a treehouse should be like?”
“Lots of windows so you can see the rest of the tree,” Lucas said promptly. “And a drawbridge.” He gave no explanation for that part.
“And a soft ice cream machine,” Charlotte said, and for some reason, I was reminded of the first day I’d met her, when she’d been too shy to even attempt speaking out loud in front of me. Things had changed.
“There wouldn’t be electricity for the ice cream machine,” Lucas said.
“But you got your drawbridge,” his sister protested.
Then I had an idea. “Lucas, can you go get my sketchpad? It’s in the drawer of my nightstand. Oh, and the pencils, too.”
Lucas was back in approximately twelve seconds. It made me wonder if I’d ever be able to move quickly again. I hoped so.
With Charlotte and Lucas watching, I sketched a tree with a thick trunk and low, sturdy branches. Then, as they called out ideas, I started to draw a treehouse.
“Put a chair in the corner,” Charlotte said.
“A beanbag chair,” Lucas added.
But I couldn’t really do that in this kind of drawing. Turning the page, I started again, this time drawing a floor plan of the inside of the treehouse. Once I explained that it was like looking at the room from above, they were on board.
“Can you put bunkbeds there?” Lucas asked, pointing.
“Make it three beds, not two, so Alyssa can sleep out there, too,” Charlotte instructed.
We still had our heads bent over the sketchbook when Raphael came out to tell the twins it was time to get ready for bed.
They protested, but he ignored them as he peered at the sketchpad. “What’s that?”
“Our treehouse.” Lucas launched into a marketing spiel on its highlights.
Raphael nodded and managed to get a few words in when Lucas paused for breath. “That’s really good,” he told me.
“Do you think it needs a drawbridge?” Charlotte asked him.
“Couldn’t hurt,” he said with a wink at me. “You know, we used to have a treehouse when we were kids.”
“You and Mom?” Charlotte asked.
“Yes.”
“Where is it?” Lucas asked.
“Way back in the woods, a little past the property line—if it’s even still there.”
“Can we go see?” Lucas asked eagerly.
“It’s dark,” I said.
“Yeah, if we go tromping around out there right now, we’re likely to get eaten by an owl,” Raphael said solemnly.
Charlotte giggled. “No, we wouldn’t.”
“An owl would think you two are as tasty as chicken nuggets.”
Lucas thought that was hilarious. “Twin chicken nuggets.”
I smiled up at Raphael. “Please don’t tell me that’s another Louisiana delicacy.”
He grinned and then clapped his hands. “Okay, time for the twin chicken nuggets to get their teeth brushed. Think you can do that and get your jammies on before your dad comes down to tuck you in?”
The time pressure seemed to spur them on, and the twins hurried out of the room. Raphael sat down on the sofa next to me. “You’re good with them,” I told him.
“So are you.”
“Yeah, but I’m the new element. The novelty act. You’ve had to be good with them for years.”