Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
A loud rapping echoes through the house. “Hurry. Read me another ’graph,” I say.
But Wanda’s already howling at the moon, skittering across the room, and soon she’ll likely be flying downstairs.
With a mountain of reluctance, I push up from the bed. “I’d better go let him in,” I say, stretching the kinks out in my shoulder.
My muscles bark, a reminder that I should probably ice my shoulder pretty soon. Standard operating procedure after a game, but the story has been more captivating than I expected so I haven’t done it yet.
I head to the bedroom door but Mia’s faster, sprinting out of bed, racing down the hall in her pink “girls rock” pajamas, twin braids trailing down her back. “I’m going to beat you to it.”
But I call after her. It’s better to be safe than sorry. “Mia, I’ll open the door.”
Her shoulders sag, but she stops at the top of the stairs and waits for me. Together, we head down the steps and toward the front door, where Wanda barks like she’s giving the visitor the business.
As I near the entrance, I grab my phone from the foyer table to check the Nest cam.
Would you look at that? Jason’s not alone. He brought his beautiful sister.
My pulse spikes at the sight of her—shiny brown hair spilling in gorgeous waves over her shoulders, a dark green coat, glossy lips, and a merry and bright smile on her pretty face.
A jolt of electricity shoots through my body, but now’s not the time to entertain those thoughts or feelings. Shoving them out of the way, I swing open the door. “Are we having a party?”
“It’s Agent Jason!” Mia shouts, while Wanda dances for him.
Jason steps inside and offers Mia a palm for high-fiving. “Sunday night party. I brought popcorn. And this hanger-on I found watching the Webflix holiday movie of the week.” He jerks a thumb toward Isla, who rolls her eyes and play punches her brother in the shoulder.
“I’ve already seen it five times.”
“As if that’d stop you from making it six,” he says.
“Maybe we can all watch it here then,” she says, trotting past him. They both kick off their shoes, then he waggles a bag of candy cane-flavored popcorn. Damn him. That’s gonna be hard for me to resist, and Mia too.
They hustle into the kitchen. I scoop up Wanda, while giving the unexpected guest a once-over, and taking my sweet time enjoying the view of her here at my house again. “And you accuse me of sabotage.”
She smiles as she undoes the buttons on her coat. “Do we really call this sabotage?”
“You showing up with your brother unannounced? Yes, I call it sabotage.”
“But I texted first to let you know I was coming. You didn’t answer.”
Dammit. I left my phone downstairs when I was upstairs with Mia. A quick scan of my texts now reveals she’s telling the truth. “Seems like you’re getting out of jail on a technicality,” I say with a huff.
“Rowan, do you really want to lock me up?” She flashes me a sweet as cherry pie grin.
Yes, yes, I do. With handcuffs or scarves or ties.
“Fine. It’s not sabotage, but it’s a sneak attack,” I say as she sheds the coat. I reach for it and hang it neatly on a hook by the door.
We head into the kitchen, joining Mia and Jason for a late-night snack. We chat about the hockey game, the book Mia’s reading, and the new trick Wanda learned at Dog Tails until a canyon-sized yawn takes over my kid.
That’s my cue. “Bedtime for real now,” I tell her, then take her upstairs, tuck her in, and give her a kiss goodnight.
“Night, Dad,” she says, as her eyes flutter.
“Night, cupcake,” I say, straightening the book on the nightstand.
“We can finish the story tomorrow,” she says as she settles into the pillow.
“Can’t wait,” I say, then I head downstairs. When I find Jason and Isla in the kitchen, I park my hands on my hips. “All right. I’ve gotten a thong today, a sweater with Santa’s ass on it, and a box of chocolate. What are you two up to?”
“Santa’s ass?” Jason asks, right as Isla says, “A thong?”
I wave a hand. “I’ll explain another time. Drinks?”
They nod, so I pour a Chablis for Isla and a whiskey for Jason, while grabbing a bubbly water for me since I don’t like to drink when Mia’s home. Next, an ice-pack.
We head to the living room and flop down on the big L-shaped gray sofa. As I drape the cold pack over my shoulder, Isla’s pretty eyes scan the space. It’s not the first time she’s been here of course. She got the lay of the land last week when we ate sushi. But this feels different, and I’m not sure why.
Because you kissed her, you jackass.