Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 95(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 95(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
Their faces…
“I’ve got to say”—Daddy grins—“I’ve never felt more like a lucky man than at this moment right now.”
I feel myself blushing as red as the tomatoes I just diced. “Oh, yeah?”
He nods, looking like a leading man from a Hollywood film.
“If only I could tell the boys at the office about you.”
My heart wants to sink, and it does a little, but I don’t let it go far. We’re going to have a nice dinner and nothing’s going to spoil that.
“Yeah? They’d like me?”
“Oh, without question.” Daddy chuckles. “Especially Mark. With all the problems he’s been having with his wife, Tiffany, lately?”
“What problems?”
Daddy just shrugs. “He’s sure she’s cheating on him—she’s sure he’s cheating on her.” He just waves a hand in the air. “It’s a whole big mess.”
“What do you think?” I ask, tossing the basil in the sauce. We’re almost ready to eat. The smells in the kitchen are starting to take me back to that little hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Italy.
“I stay out of it,” he replies. “I don’t need to be involved in any work drama.”
There’s that confidence again. So many guys at my high school would love to insinuate themselves into other people’s drama like a bunch of teenage girls. Such a turn-off. Maybe that was one of the reasons I never dated in high school. I just could not bear to go out with any of them.
“I love that about you.” I smile.
“What’s that?” he asks.
“That you don’t get involved.” I take the pasta strainer and set it in the sink. “Like some kind of drama queen.”
“I’ll leave that to the girls on your trip,” he teases as he gets up and goes to the cabinets for the plates.
I burst out laughing as I strain the noodles. “Are you calling my friends drama queens?”
Daddy leans in and plants a delicate kiss on my neck that sends shivers down my spine. I take the plates from him and use the tongs to start serving up the pasta.
He squeezes my boob as he passes, and I watch the muscles of his back flex and tighten as he walks to the table and sets our glasses down at our chairs.
I swallow hard and try not to gawk. He’s such a gorgeous man, but I have a job to do right now, and I want to do it right. I can’t be distracted by such perfection.
“What would you like for a drink, sweetie?” he asks, turning to me. “Seltzer, cranberry juice—”
“How about a little red wine?” I ask.
Daddy’s jaw drops, and I burst out laughing as he looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What did you say?”
“A little red wine?” I repeat, trying to keep a straight face.
“You do know how old you are, right?” he asks.
I can’t help myself. I start giggling. “Of course I do.”
“And you have to be twenty-one to drink, Mandy,” he says.
“Daddy,” I laugh. “I’ve been in Italy for the last two weeks. You do know what the drinking age is there, don’t you?”
It takes him about two seconds, but he gets it.
Daddy bursts out laughing and leans against the table to steady himself. “Oh my God, Mandy. I thought you had lost your mind for a minute,” he bellows. “You really like screwing with me, don’t you?”
I slide around the corner of the counter and press up my body up against him. “Mmm, screwing with you? Yes, I think I do.”
Daddy smiles down at me with his gorgeous eyes, and I let my lips hang open to accept his kiss. For that moment, the entire world seems to fade away. It’s not until he slides his hands up my lower back and presses his body against mine and I feel something warm and hard between my legs that I remember what we’re right in the middle of.
“Oh my God, the dinner!” I exclaim, breaking our kiss.
“Oh, right.” Daddy laughs. “We wouldn’t want to ruin that, now would we? Not after you worked so hard on it.”
I nod and look down at the bulge between his legs, so thick it’s like it’s threatening to tear through the thin fabric of his briefs.
“Right,” I reply. “We wouldn’t want that.”
My stomach growls. I’m actually starving, but I’m also still dying for another taste of this man in front of me.
“Come on.” He smiles. “Let’s eat. I want to taste this meal of yours.”
I guess Daddy can see in my eyes that I can’t do it on my own, so he takes me by the hips and turns me around and walks me back over to the counter, where I finish plating the meal. I start to take them over table, but Daddy takes them from me before I can.
“Nope, that’s my job.” He smiles. “It’s the least I can do after you did all the hard work.”