Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 55769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
She plopped the tray over his thighs.
And yeah, there was bacon.
Also, his favorite. Roxie’s stuffed French toast, the pat of butter still melting and mixing with an overabundance of maple syrup poured over the top, just as he liked it.
She’d been with him now for a while. Through her drama, them being separated while she dealt with moving to Denver (a time he didn’t like all that much, the primary reason why he’d colluded with Tex to get her to move right in with him when she returned, an endeavor that was thankfully a success), then Roxie coming home, moving in with him and them surviving the most recent drama.
Barely.
Now, they were back to normal.
He liked Roxie beside him in his life and his bed a whole fuckuva lot. He liked walking his dog with her. He liked looking at her and listening to her. He liked going to the movies with her and going to the grocery store with her. He liked coming home to her. He liked seeing her face light up when he walked into the house and cooking dinner with her and watching TV with her and listening to her when he made her laugh. He even liked being her rock when shit went south with the Rock Chicks.
He just liked her.
But he liked their normal the best.
Like now.
She rounded the bed and hiked up the bottom of her nightdress exposing shapely legs all the way up to her thighs (again, sexy).
She climbed in opposite him, then said a gentle, “Shamus, no, not this time. Daddy’s eating,” when their dog tried to climb in too.
Shamus whined.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she cooed. “He’ll be done soon and then you can come up.”
Right, and he liked how much she loved his dog, and how much Shamus loved her too.
Though she was correct, he would be done with his breakfast soon (Roxie’s French toast never lasted long before he downed it), but Shamus wouldn’t be getting on the bed when he was finished.
It was Saturday. For once in the Rock Chick World, they not only had no dramas, they had no plans.
But Hank did, and they heavily involved this bed, so Shamus wasn’t invited.
“’Mornin’,” he said softly when she finally looked to him.
Her beautiful face warmed, she leaned into him and touched his mouth with hers, pulling away, and after that sweet touch said it all, unnecessarily adding, “Good morning, Whisky.”
He gestured to the tray. “None for you?”
“We’re sharing. The toast is a double stack.”
He looked closer and saw she was right. There were also two forks.
He grabbed one and handed it to her, then went after the other.
But he started with a sip from his coffee.
She dug in. He went in after her.
After he swallowed his first bite and savored it, he turned back to his woman. “New tray?”
“Tod and Stevie and I went shopping yesterday.”
This was not a rare occurrence. His woman could shop.
However, it was in overdrive since Christmas was nearly on them.
“Did you buy two?” he asked.
She forked into the French toast then gave him her gaze before she shoved the bite into her mouth. “We only need one.”
She was right about that.
It was then Hank leaned in and kissed her. It was closed-mouthed, but she still tasted of Roxie and syrup. The first part did it for him. All he needed. So the combination packed a phenomenal punch.
He put down his fork and picked up a rasher of bacon, saying, “I could get used to this,” before he munched.
That was no lie, and he wasn’t just talking about sharing breakfast in bed.
He was feeling great. He had his woman at his side, eating a fantastic breakfast, the entire day off, no plans, the house was decorated for Christmas, he was in the spirit, Roxie was in the spirit, Shamus was in the spirit, and no one had been kidnapped or shot for weeks.
So he wasn’t feeling great about how Roxie suddenly couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Sunshine?” he called.
She looked right at him and said fast, “I tried, but I couldn’t stop it.”
Oh fuck.
His entire frame tensed.
“What?” he growled.
“It was already done by the time they called. Apparently, they’ve been planning this for weeks.”
“What, Roxanne?” he pressed, his voice still low.
Her eyes got big before she announced, “Mom and Dad are coming for Christmas.”
He did a slow blink.
“That’s it?” he asked.
“Okay, Hank,” she began, scooching closer to him like she had to be near to support him through a trauma. “You had a small taste of them when they were here.”
“Sweetheart—”
“And it was Halloween, which is a holiday, I’ll admit. So Mom was acting in true form when she Mom Bombed your house in all things Halloween. But you must remember, that isn’t the holiday. Christmas is.”
“Roxie—”
“So, you experienced Mom Overload when she was here around Halloween. And I know I warned you, but I don’t think you appreciate just how much Christmas is crazy town for my mom.”