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)
An hour later, we successfully power washed two sides with the third to go. I’ll tackle the porch last since it will need more attention.
The machine is too loud to hear cars pulling up, but when Pris walks around the corner, visoring her hands over her eyes, a smirk dances across her lips as she looks me up and down. “Looks like I’m missing all the fun.”
I chuckle. “What are you talking about? Looks like the fun just arrived.”
“You flatter me so.” She smiles at Beckett. “Hi, buddy. I like your hat.”
“Grandpa said it makes me a real cowboy now.”
“Sure does.” She giggles lightly and then looks back at me. “Like father, like son, I see.”
She’s so comfortable around my kid that it allows me to see a bigger picture of how it might be some day if we are together in a more permanent fashion. He steadies his hands on the ladder with a tighter grip. “Hi.” Is he showing off for her? I have a future Romeo on my hands.
Before I get back to washing the awnings and knocking some wasp nests down, I ask, “What brings you by?”
“Had a little time on my hands. Need any help?” The woman starts work before dawn and past dusk most days, so putting her to work over at my folk’s house is the last thing I want to do.
She goes to Beck and leans down to look in his eyes under the brim of his new hat. “You’re doing a good job holding the ladder for your daddy.” Sometimes I wonder if she calls me daddy on purpose. Whatever she’s trying to do to me, it’s working. So fucking naughty.
“Safety first,” he says, kicking his legs out like the ladder is only steady if he uses all his strength. I appreciate the effort.
“Always,” she says. “Are you coming out to the ranch to visit the horses?”
He looks up at me. “Can I, Dad?”
“You bet.”
When I look at Pris again, she says, “I don’t mean to keep you—”
“Do you have time to stick around?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “I do.” The response hits different after the conversation I had with my mom, but I wouldn’t mind hearing those words again to try them on for size.
“Sorry, I missed that. The power washer is loud.”
She cups the side of her mouth, and calls out, “I have time. I’ll go hang out on the porch and wait for you.” Blocked. I was never good about missing a touchdown.
After Beck and I finish the area above the porch, we do what we need to clean up. Beck runs to the garden where my mom is picking something, so I take the opportunity to see Pris.
I come up the steps and look around one last time to make sure there are no eyes on us before bending down to kiss her. Her hands slide over my shoulders, and she says, “I sure do like this look on you.”
“Shirtless and a cowboy hat?”
“And jeans making that ass look too good not to appreciate getting a big handful, babe.”
Chuckling, I can’t argue that I like that my girl finds me so attractive. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you squeeze it later.”
“I’d rather be bad.”
“Be careful what you wish for.”
“I’m not afraid. Bring it on, cowboy.”
That mouth of hers is going to be the death of me. Considering how reactive my body is to her, a change of subject is needed about now. “I’m glad you stopped by.”
“I wanted to see you.” When I sit next to her on the porch swing, she says, “You could have paid someone to do the work.”
“I like using my hands.”
“I like that, too.” Reaching over, she slips hers into mine, and our fingers weave together. “It also is beginning to sound like you might be missing Texas.”
“That’s not what I’m missing most.”
She genuinely looks like she’s waiting for the answer. How is that possible? I clearly need to do a better job of making sure she knows exactly what she means to me.
“You, babe,” I say, bringing our conjoined hands to my mouth and kissing hers. “I miss you most.”
“I was tempering my hopes just in—”
“You don’t have to, not with me.” I lean over and kiss her once more. “My parents know I’m seeing you.”
“Ah.” She looks out past the porch. “Lauralee knows.”
“I think your dad does as well.” Her mouth is hanging wide open, implanting thoughts inappropriate for the situation.
“He hasn’t said anything to me.”
“He hinted at it when I came by yesterday.”
She takes a sobering breath and angles toward me on the swing. “So what you’re saying is that everyone knows, but we’re still pretending they don’t?”
“Seems that way. So what if we were a couple like any other instead of hiding?”
I see the joy in the blue of her eyes as potential fills them, but she bites her bottom lip and gnaws before licking it. “How do you feel about a hard launch at the Peach Festival?”