Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 48446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
“Wha—pardon me?”
“Exactly right.”
He was squinting at me. “So I’m supposed to say pardon me?”
“Yessir.”
“Okay.” He got ready to get up again.
“I ask again, Tristan. Where are you goin’? Aren’t you forgettin’ somethin’?”
“I’m done,” he replied irritably, as if I misunderstood that the first time.
“First,” I began, leaning forward, “you thank your grandmother for the fine meal you just had. Second, you ask to be excused, and finally, you carry your plate to the sink, because neither your grandmother nor your mother is your maid.”
He looked at me hard. I arched an eyebrow in question.
“You’re not my father,” he said, still surly.
“No, sir,” I agreed, waiting on him. The room was quiet around us.
After a minute, he took a breath. “Nana,” he said, turning to look down the long table at her.
“Yes, Tris?”
“The chicken was really good. Thank you for making it.”
“You’re very welcome,” she answered, and I heard her voice hitch.
“May I please be excused?”
“Yes, you may.”
His eyes flicked to me, and I nodded. He got up and took his plate to the sink.
“Nana,” Pip said, “me and Micah liked the food too. Can we go?”
“Yes, dear.” She chuckled.
Pip leaned into my side. “Did I do good?”
“Yessir,” I told him, then to Angie, “Ma’am—”
“Thank you, Weber.” She smiled. “We haven’t had manners in this house for some time.”
“Oh yes, ma’am,” I agreed, leveling my gaze on Brett. “I am aware.”
He had the good grace to blanch.
I rose and carried my plate to the sink, listening as the girls asked their grandmother to be excused. As I turned on the water to rinse the dishes, little arms wrapped around my waist and a head pressed into the middle of my back.
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” I told Tristan.
“Are you mad?”
“No, sir,” I assured him. “Come help me with this.”
“Yessir,” he said, smiling at me.
“Smartass.”
He grinned wide, his eyes lighting up.
“Weber, you don’t have to do that,” Angie called over.
“Yes, ma’am, but we’re good here.”
I had all the kids helping when Angie joined us.
“Weber.”
I turned to look at her.
“I’m enjoying having you here very much.”
“Thank you.” I smiled at her, just as Cy came into the kitchen.
“I need to speak to you right now.”
“But I’m washing the—”
“Brett and Rachel can take over,” Angie stated flatly—and loud enough to be heard in the dining room.
I heard the scrape of chairs on the wooden floor as I rinsed soap off my hands and dried them quickly before following Cy.
He led me out to the patio, and after I closed the door behind me, I realized he was still moving. Catching up, I was surprised when he rounded on me. I crossed my arms and looked at him.
“I had no idea that man was going to be here.”
“What man?” I teased him.
It took a second, but the tension drained out of him and he exhaled sharply. “Ass.”
I smiled at him.
“I didn’t, though. I would never try and make you jealous or—I don’t play games.”
“I know.”
He stared into my eyes. “You realize, when you’re with me, you’re the only one I see?”
I did know that. He always made it clear what I meant to him. “Which is real nice, Dr. Benning.” I put a hand on his nape and drew him in for a kiss. He whined, his eyes closing, his lips parting. I sank my tongue into the wet heat of his mouth, claiming, taking possession, feeling more raw and vulnerable than I thought I would. He melted against me, arms wrapping around my neck as he gave me his weight, and I bent him back, clutching him as I ravaged his lips. He always tasted so good, kissed me like no one ever had, like I was all there was. It went on, and long minutes passed before he broke the kiss to gasp for breath.
“Jealous,” he heaved out the word.
“Pardon?” I growled at him, leaning my forehead against his, our noses side by side, touching, bumping.
“Even though I had nothing to do with it, you’re jealous of what’s his name.”
“Ross,” I provided.
“Yeah.”
“He’s a stockbroker.”
“Uh-huh,” he agreed, his thumb sliding over my bottom lip, his groin grazing my thigh.
“Well, I’m not.”
“You’re not what?”
“A stockbroker. Pay attention.”
He huffed out a breath. “No, you’re not.”
“We both know you can do better’n me.”
“We believe two completely different truths,” he assured me, hand on my nape, stroking, the other now clutching my shirt.
“I—” What was I going to say?
“You?” he prodded.
“Even when I’m gone, that guy doesn’t deserve you.”
“Say what you mean.”
I cleared my throat. “Don’t ever kiss him.”
“Or?”
“Or fuck him or do anything with him at all.”
He licked his lips. “Okay, cowboy, it’s a promise.”
I walked him back into the wall, and when I pinned him against it, the moan he released made me smile into his eyes.
“It’s nice that you’re making demands,” he told me.
At which point I realized how ridiculous I was being. “Shit. I—”