Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Okay, fine, everything Brady does makes me salivate.
“Thanks for shoveling the driveway. It’s my least favorite chore, and now I don’t have to.”
“You’re welcome. And I wouldn’t have just left without a word. I wanted to get you some coffee. Millie knows your order.” He offers me a cup, and I take a sip and let my eyes close with that first jolt of caffeine.
“Your sister brews the best coffee,” I say with a sigh, and when I open my eyes, Brady’s watching me, his jaw tight. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head and pulls his own cup out of the tray, leaving a little one still nestled inside. “I like the way you look in the morning. All sleepy-eyed and soft.”
In all of the months I’ve known Brady Wild, he’s never looked at me like this. Of course, we’ve never been alone before for this long. His family, my friends, are always with us, and the way he’s watching me now isn’t exactly appropriate for mixed company.
It makes my insides tingle with glee.
“Are you flirting with me?” I ask with a grin.
“I shouldn’t be,” he says with a frown. “But yeah, I guess I am. I got Daisy some hot chocolate. Is she still asleep?”
I hear her feet hit the floor above us, and I smile at him. “Not anymore. Thanks for the coffee. I hadn’t made any yet.”
“That was the goal.” He sips, eyeing me, as my daughter comes bounding down the stairs.
She’s always been like this. Wakes up fully alert and ready to take on the day. Her curly hair is messy, and there’s a crease in her cheek from her pillow. When she sees Brady, she stops cold as pure joy fills her precious face.
“Brady!”
“Hi there, Princess,” he says with that easy grin. “I brought you some hot chocolate.”
“Can I have it, Mom?”
“Of course. Come sit at the island and drink it. You guys keep me company while I make breakfast.”
“We have pancakes on Sunday,” Daisy informs Brady as she climbs into her favorite stool and sits as Brady sets her cup in front of her. “Did I get whipped cream?”
“You did,” Brady confirms with a wink and sits next to her.
“So, tell me about your dance,” I say as I take the bacon out of the fridge and peel it apart, placing it onto a tray for the oven. “Who did you boogie with?”
“Holly, of course,” Daisy says. “And the other girls, too.”
“What about boys?” I ask her.
“Ew. No, they danced together. Sometimes we were all in a big group, and that was fun. They had cookies there. Brady danced, too, and he was goofy.”
“Hey.” Brady frowns down at her. “I was not goofy. That’s just how I dance.”
Daisy giggles, and I slide the pan of bacon into the oven and then get started on the pancakes.
“Did you stay here last night?” Daisy asks him, and my heart stutters.
Shit.
I twirl, ready to jump in, but Brady’s already nodding his head.
“Your mom was nice enough to offer me the guest room because the blizzard got pretty bad last night, and it probably wasn’t safe to drive to the ranch.”
“Oh,” Daisy says and sips her drink. “You didn’t sleep with Mommy?”
“No, he didn’t.” I frown at my daughter as I pour pancake mix onto the griddle. “Why would you think he would?”
“I don’t know, sometimes people sleep in the same bed. Like Holly’s mom and dad do. And sometimes my mommy has nightmares, and I go to her room and snuggle her for a while.”
My eyes go wide, and I wish the floor would just open up and swallow me.
“She does, huh?” Brady asks, and I can just feel his eyes on me.
“Yeah, so I thought maybe you had to snuggle with her to make her feel better.”
“No, he didn’t,” I say softly and smile at my baby. “But thank you for thinking of me. You’re very sweet.”
Daisy smiles and drinks her hot chocolate, and I glance over to Brady. Sure enough, those hot hazel eyes are on me, full of questions, but I just shake my head and get back to work.
Brady asks Daisy about school and what she wants for Christmas as I finish breakfast, and I’m happy for the reprieve from any more uncomfortable topics that my precious daughter wants to bring up.
One thing about my girl is, she’s not afraid to speak up. And I love that about her. I envy it sometimes. But I’m also learning that it might be a little uncomfortable around a man that makes my insides quiver.
“Let’s sit at the table,” I suggest as I make a plate for Daisy and get her settled and then join Brady in the kitchen to make my own breakfast. He puts three pieces of bacon on my plate, and I shake my head. “I don’t usually do the bacon.”