Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
It had not.
I was more than glad when he stopped his work early to come out, but less glad when I heard his question to Clara.
Clara jumped up from where we’d been finishing her drawing from that morning. It was an intricate fairy garden with various magical creatures. “Yes!”
Grocery shopping was a novelty. Something she’d only done once since her transplant, masked, with Beau clutching on to hand sanitizer for dear life.
Now that she could do it like a “normal” kid, she was very excited. So many mundane tasks were novel to her, special. Though I hated the reason for this perspective, it was a great gift she’d been given, to find joy in the ordinary.
I smiled at her glee while cleaning up our crayons, taking Clara’s latest piece of art to stick on the fridge.
“Baby.”
Heat pressed up against my back from where I was rearranging her works of art, Polaroids, and the magnets used to accommodate her latest creation. When I first moved in, the fridge was bare. Clara and I had ensured that it was soon cluttered with our treasures, memories.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose at the hands settling on my back, a low gasp rushing from me as Beau’s lips grazed my ear.
“Get your coat,” he murmured. “We’re going grocery shopping.”
He lingered for a breath more, stepping back just as Clara came into the room.
My hand was shaking as I fixed the picture to the fridge.
I turned around to see Beau helping Clara into her jacket as if he hadn’t just set my panties on fire.
“I don’t normally come grocery shopping.”
In the past, any errand that Beau and Clara ran was just the two of them. Because I was hired to look after Clara when Beau wasn’t around. And Beau tried to avoid enclosed spaces with me when he could.
Beau’s eyes roved slowly over my body. “There were a lot of things that you didn’t normally do that you do now,” he countered in a perfectly pleasant tone.
It hit me square in the ovaries, and it took all my willpower to keep my expression neutral.
The upturn of Beau’s lips and the devious glint to his eye told me that he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Get your coat, baby,” he repeated, sans innuendo.
What could a girl do?
I got my coat.
When I put Clara to bed that night, I was on cloud nine.
The day had been simple. The three of us. Grocery shopping then coffee and pastries at The Chaotic Baker.
Coffee and pastries with Beau holding my hand while in line, Clara on his other side.
I’d been self-conscious enough by his casual touches, hand on my back, and whispering in my ear while grocery shopping.
Then there was the episode with the champagne.
When we approached the alcohol section, I hadn’t expected to pause there. Beau had a whisky every now and then, though I’d only seen him do it twice, once being last night. The bottle we’d shared was still almost entirely full.
But Beau directed us to the wine aisle, stopping in front of the champagne. He reached up with his long, muscular arm to grasp a bottle from the top shelf.
A very expensive bottle. So expensive that it blew my mind. People really spend that much? On wine?
“Who’s that for?” I asked him dumbly. I figured it must’ve been a gift for a friend, one with expensive taste.
“You like this,” he replied, as if that answered the question.
I stared at the bottle, recognizing it as what had been at Avery’s place the night I went for drinks. I didn’t even bother to ask how he’d known that was the specific champagne I’d had the night in question.
“I like space, but you’re not about to get me a rocket ship,” I said dryly.
His eyes twinkled, looking down at Clara. She was sticking close to the two of us, happily looking around the store in awe. Obviously, the newness had not yet worn off. “My girls both like space, so give me time.”
My girls.
Punch. To the heart.
I swallowed thickly, trying to recover. “Regardless, the champagne is not something we get just because I like it.”
I reached into the cart, grabbing the bottle.
When I reached to put it back on the shelf, Beau’s large hand encircled my wrist. The size difference was stark. Until Beau Shaw, never had a man made me feel petite. Never had I felt less afraid of a man physically.
“We’re getting it because you like it,” he argued. “And because we’ve got something to celebrate.”
A thrill surged through me, reveling in the dry, firm grip.
“We do?”
“We do.” Beau held my gaze. “So let go of the fucking champagne, and I’ll let you drink it while I eat your pussy tonight.”
I let go on instinct, my eyes rushing downward to see if Clara was out of earshot. Luckily, she was. I was sure Beau knew that too, because he wouldn’t have said that if she wasn’t. Still, it felt risky—and delightful—to have him speak to me like that in a grocery store.