Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“You're a regular girl scout,” Maverick tells her with a wink.
Taylor's blush is adorable, if adorable is hard-on inducing.
Right then and there, I decide that I'm going to leave Clint and Maverick to handle all the duties this morning. Putting Taylor at ease with the house and our expectations has to be my priority today. And maybe putting her at ease with me. I should have more control, but with Taylor standing at the sink with bare feet and sweetness pulsing from her, I'm rendered weak.
Clint and Maverick are surprised when I tell them I'm staying home for the morning. They share bemused looks as they pull on their boots by the door, remembering to take their lunches with them. “Focus on shoring up the fences,” I tell them. “And keep an eye out for any trouble.”
After they've left, the silence between Taylor and I feels like a bridge that I need to cross, but before I get a chance, Taylor begins to bustle around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients and bowls. She's trying to keep busy with chores, so she doesn't have to deal with me, and that's fine. It's going to take time for her to feel completely comfortable with all of us.
But she will.
“What are you making?”
“Blueberry muffins,” she says quickly without turning.
“Can I help?”
She turns, surprise forcing her eyebrows high. “You like baking?”
“I used to bake with my momma. She appreciated my mixing skills.”
“I have the electric whisk,” she says, but then, as a people-pleasing afterthought, she adds, “But you can stir if you'd like to take a trip down memory lane.”
I rise from the table and approach the counter, standing close enough to watch Taylor's confident progress but not so close to be intimidating. She passes me the bowl of sugar and butter, ready to mix. I roll up my sleeves and get to work, reliving all the times I did this with my momma's gaze resting on me.
We continue in that vein until Taylor empties the blueberries into the completed mixture and scoops it into paper muffin cases that she seems to have made with parchment paper, with a level of professionalism that I hadn't expected from a girl her age.
“Did you work in a bakery or something?”
“Yep. For a couple of years.”
“Wow.” I rub my beard, smiling at our good fortune. “You should have bragged about that at the auction. You'd have had the whole place engaged in a bidding war.”
She rests the spoon on the edge of the bowl and purses her lips. I sense there's something she wants to say but is hesitating. “Then you would have had to pay more for me?”
“I had more for the right girl.”
“So you got me cheap?”
I fold my arms over my chest as she keeps scooping. “I think we were all very fortunate with the outcome.”
Taylor nods, gripping the tray and taking it over to the oven that's been preheating. She sets a timer and places it on the counter. “Would you like more coffee?”
“Sure.”
When Taylor's done pouring me a cup and adding cream, she hands it to me. Before she can put distance between us again, I gently take her wrist in my hand. “I want you to be happy here,” I tell her. “Really happy. I'll do anything in my power to make it happen.”
She blinks her pretty hazel eyes that are wider than they should be. I'm unsure if she's surprised that I care one way or another or fearful of what happiness might involve. Maybe other cowboys would see this as a one-way arrangement. She's here to serve us and to make our lives easier. But I'm old enough to know that nothing comes for free. I don't want to feel her nervous energy anytime I go near her or watch her stumble over her words, desperate to say the right thing. I want her to look at me like I'm the big bad wolf and want to surrender to me. I want her to feel safe because I have the teeth and the strength to protect her from any danger out there.
“Happy?” She says the word like she has no idea what it means.
“Clint told you about the arrangement?”
She nods and licks her bottom lip. “Why do you want that? Was it the money?”
“You think we couldn't afford three women if that's what we wanted?”
She shrugs. There are many things I could tell her. Clint is her legal husband, not me, because my sister's a joint owner of the ranch, and she'd never agree with me risking my share on another relationship. Maverick never wanted a wife, but his loneliness spills out with every sad song he sings. Clint would spend his whole life punishing himself for something he didn’t mean to do. This is the only way I can force them to try and live the kind of life they deserve. I want Taylor to be happy, but most of all, I want my friends to find love.