Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
I hear the gravel under their feet just before Tag says, “It’s been a long time since I had a BLT.”
Turning back, I keep my feet moving. “I’ve been known to make a good one.”
He rubs his stomach. “I’m suddenly hungry.”
“I can eat, too, Daddy.” Beck runs to me and slips his hand in mine like we’re old friends. I like this kid.
Looking down at him, I ask, “Do you know what the B stands for?”
“Burger?”
I can’t hold back a laugh. “Close. Bacon. Do you like bacon?”
“Does Beckett Grange like bacon?” Tag bellows behind us. “He’s a bacon monster.”
“Rawr,” Beck roars, then dashes to the porch.
His place at my side isn’t vacant for long, Tag sliding right into the space. “Sure you don’t mind, Pris?”
I stop. Facing him, I tilt my head and arch an eyebrow. With a poke to the chest, his oh-so-hard chest, I caution, “Listen, I let you get away with it yesterday, but if you plan on hanging around and breaking bacon with me, the nickname needs to be left in the past.”
Judging by how his brows knit together, he appears confused. “What’s wrong with Pris?” There’s such an innocence to his tone like I’m the one ruining the fun.
“You know what’s wrong with it, so I don’t know if you’re trying to rile me up or you still see me as that same tag-along little sister, but I have news for you, buster.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” The confusion disappears from his face and is replaced with a growing smirk.
I swear he’s the devil sent to tempt me into hell. And it’s been so long since I was even near a man I wasn’t related to or worked with, I’m ready to take the bait. I lean in, close enough to inhale the expensive aftershave that lightly coats his skin, and whisper, “I’m all grown up if you haven’t noticed.”
He moves in even closer, so close that my lips part in a desperate attempt for air to reach my lungs as my entire body stills. Our shoes bump together, his chest rests against my arm, and with the minutest of angles, the scruff on his cheek brushes against my temple. His eyes dip to my lips as he drags his tongue over the corner of his mouth, and then tilts his head until his breath reaches my ear, and whispers, “I’ve noticed, Pristine.”
Pristine . . .
He’s the devil alright.
Before I have a chance to poke him again, a cold front sweeps in when he leaves me standing there alone. The squeal of the screen door that needs oiling is swung open, and the two of them walk inside.
It’s best he’s gone, or he might find himself pinned to the wood planks of the porch.
I turn to face the property, resting my hands on the railing. I take a long moment not only to catch my breath but also to calm my racing heart. Dropping my head down and closing my eyes, I equally love and hate that he gets a reaction from me so easily.
He always did, even when it was annoying like that nickname.
But I suddenly feel alive in ways I haven’t since I returned home, and if I’m to give credit where it’s due, it’s because of him.
God, I’m in so much trouble.
CHAPTER 4
Tagger
Even in April, shade is appreciated from the Texas sun.
Hanging back on the porch, I give Christine and Beck some time to explore on their own. Here, he can run free. In the city, he isn’t allowed more than a few feet from me on the quieter residential streets. On the busier streets, his hand is always in mine.
He’s in safekeeping as they explore the barn and meet each of the chickens by name. With him busy, I sit on the porch to catch up on emails, though anytime they come into view, my eyes are on them. Especially him.
I haven’t seen his pure delight in a while. Probably Christmas, if I remember right. He’s a happy kid by nature. His mom . . . not so much. But I’m not an innocent bystander. I contributed to both their dispositions. Custody of Beck is ever-evolving and seemingly never-ending. If I compromise, she makes a new demand. If I put my foot down, I hear from her lawyer the following morning. And if I dare to make a request or add a stipulation of my own? All hell breaks loose, and we’re back to square one.
Organizing this trip for his spring break took two rounds and a few thousand in attorney fees.
Looking up from my phone, I see Christine reach over and tickle Beck. She taps his nose as his giggles ring out across the yard before she turns in my direction. Damn. She’s not the same Pris I remember. Even down to the nickname I promised not to use again. But calling her Christine just doesn’t sit right. She’s just as Pristine with my boy as she was all those years ago.