Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 115683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
I don’t get nervous. Probably because I make it a point to never get invested. I don’t care whether Lainey stays for dinner. Just like I don’t care that having her over is a lot of fucking fun.
The house just feels…lighter somehow. It’s clearing the dark cloud that’s been hanging over me ever since I found out my sister’s hooking up with Hartsville’s very own cowboy Casanova. Ryder’s a good man at his core, but in all the years I’ve known him, he’s never rested his head on the same pillow twice.
I’m scared he’ll hurt Billie. Angry the two of them went behind my back.
There’s something else lurking in the swirl of shit I feel about it all too. Something that makes my stomach hurt, that I can’t—won’t—name.
I take pride in how Dean and I have made this house a home. He and I work hard to take care of it. Guess it’s just nice to have someone over to enjoy it with us.
Maybe I really am lonely, much as I hate to admit it.
Still, my heart takes a tumble of relief when Lainey says, “I’d love to stay. You sure—”
“I’m sure.” I rise from the table and tuck my chair underneath it. “Another beer?”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
She pushes up her sleeves. “What can I do? How about I make the plates—”
“Naw, Dallas, you’re gonna sit.” I nod at the table before heading for the stove. “Y’all gotta finish building the rest of that spooky stuff, remember?”
Is that heat I see in her eyes?
She like it when I boss her around?
Or does she just like to be fed? Taken care of?
She also looks a little lost as she glances at the table.
“You all right?” I ask.
“Yeah. Yeah, I just… It’s weird to be sitting again. In a good way, I mean. Growing up, I was always helping my mom do everything. She waits on everyone.”
“And now it’s weird letting someone wait on you.”
She blinks. “Yes. Exactly.”
You’d best get used to it when you’re with me.
No clue where that thought comes from. But I’m suddenly gripped by the fierce need to show her how it’s properly done—how she should be treated.
That’s something Dean needs to learn. Absolutely why I’m doing it. Yes. For Dean.
Not at all for naked purposes, because that would be shameless and wrong.
Not like waiting on people isn’t second nature for me. Been doing it for what feels like forever. You got no choice when you’re raising a baby on your own. You just put your head down and get to work.
Might as well let Lainey enjoy the fruits of my labor.
“Sit,” I repeat. “Don’t make me tell you again.”
One side of her mouth kicks up. “Or what?”
Or I’m gonna feed you more than just dinner.
Lord, my mind is one dirty motherfucker tonight.
Do I care?
“Miss Lainey, can we draw together?” Dean asks. “Remember you said we could.”
She gasps. “That’s right! Here, let me get my notebook so I can show you what I’m working on.” She cuts me a glance as she walks across the kitchen to her bag. “It’s top secret stuff, though, so we can’t show your dad.”
Dean gets up and opens the cabinet where we keep his arts and crafts stuff. “I can keep secrets.”
A minute later, Lainey and Dean are back at the table, heads bent together as they whisper and sketch in Lainey’s notebook with colored pencils. I’m more than a little curious about what they’re working on.
The LEGO set has been placed carefully to the side. Her buying it and bringing it over was an unexpectedly thoughtful gesture. And while I know she’d like to improve our working relationship, I somehow don’t think this gift has anything to do with that. She’s having too much fun building things. Dancing. Showering my son with attention.
Aw, hell. Lainey is just being plain old kind, isn’t she? For no other reason other than she’s a good person. One who apparently has a big heart.
No ulterior motive. Although I almost wish she had one—the motive, of course, being sex with me.
My hands shake a little as I strain the gravy and make quick work of thickening it with a flour slurry and a lot of butter.
Tasting it, I hum. That’s good.
Not gonna lie, my stomach does a happy little somersault at the idea of showing off for Lainey.
“You good with gravy? Vegetables?” I ask.
“I’m good with anything. Food just might be my favorite thing.”
Funny, but I like to eat too. She gonna finally let me taste her? I got no idea how a hookup would happen tonight. I gotta get Dean to bed, and even then, he doesn’t go down right away. I can’t leave him to go to her place.
And then there’s the fact that I haven’t had another woman in my bed—at my house—since Abby.
But it’s weird and kinda wonderful to pile not two but three plates with food. I made enough to feed an army. When I turn around, a plate in each of my hands, I startle.