The Homemaker (The Chain of Lakes #1) Read Online Jewel E. Ann

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary Tags Authors: Series: The Chain of Lakes Series by Jewel E. Ann
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Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
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The next morning, the day before she had to leave, I brought her breakfast in bed.

“This is risky,” she said, stretching her body in one direction and then the other before sitting up against the headboard and pulling my T-shirt over her naked body.

“Why is that?” I asked, setting the tray in front of her.

“Because I don’t know if you can cook.”

“Am I still in danger of falling off a pedestal? A hundred orgasms later … really?”

“A hundred?” She giggled while taking a bite of the toast with apricot jam.

“My face has spent so much time between your gorgeous legs, your pussy could charge me rent.”

She blushed while slowly chewing. “This jam is amazing.”

“It’s from the farmer’s market. We should go today since you leave tomorrow,” I said without allowing anguish to seep into my tone.

“We should go on a date tonight.”

“A date?” I reclined on the bed, resting my head on her legs.

Alice grinned. “Something amazing.”

“Like bowling?”

She giggled, pressing her fingers to her lips while she swallowed. “So close, Murph. You were just so close. Then with one word, you tumbled from the pedestal.”

“Bowling? You don’t like bowling?” I propped myself up onto my elbow.

“Why do you look so excited over the idea of me not liking it?”

“Because if you don’t like it, that means you’re not good at it. We’re going bowling. Fuck the pedestal.”

“Perhaps I’m so good that it feels too easy and therefore boring. Or it feels like the most unoriginal date ever.”

I shook my head. “No way. Dinner and a movie is the most unoriginal and boring date ever. Bowling is a solid choice. And if we’re lucky, we’ll arrive and get a warm pair of shoes that someone just returned.”

She laughed. “I can’t believe you’re single. Nothing sweeps a girl off her feet quite like warm bowling shoes. And I want to dress up for our date.”

“Bowling shoes go great with a suit.” I was so fucking scared our time was coming to an end, and so I took mental pictures of every smile and hoped my mind would remember the sound of her laughter.

“What’s that look?” she asked before sipping coffee.

“Have you been swept off your feet before?”

She swallowed and returned a less-than-convincing smile. “Before what? Warm bowling shoes? Sex in front of your neighbor?”

“Before me,” I said.

Her hand shook as she set the mug back on the tray and cleared her throat. “Are you going to cry if I beat you at bowling … in a dress?”

I took her shaky hand in mine and squeezed it. Tears filled her eyes, but she kept them at bay with a nervous laugh. Her pain was palpable, and I wanted to take it away.

“Why are you so good at everything?”

She shrugged, sniffling and fighting to keep a smile. “Quick learner. Good genes. Luck. I don’t know.”

“Well, I might just cry,” I said. “But it won’t be from a bruised ego.”

She averted her gaze and quickly wiped her tears. “Please don’t do this,” she whispered.

“Do what?” I set the tray aside and pulled her into my arms, spooning her to me while kissing her neck. “Want you? Miss you? Love you?”

Alice sniffled again before turning in my arms and pressing her palms to my cheeks. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Today I’m here. So just look at me like you do, and say …” her voice cracked.

“Hi,” I said.

She closed her eyes as I kissed her. Maybe she wasn’t real, but the pain sure was.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Alice

The truth can wait, but not forever.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea for me to ride Vera’s bike?” I ask on our way down the stairs to the garage after checking on Mr. Morrison.

“I think it’s an acceptable idea. Do you want me to text her?”

“No. I don’t want her to know I’m biking instead of sitting next to Mr. Morrison’s bed holding a box of tissues in case he sneezes.”

Murphy chuckles. “That visual cracks me up.”

As we make our way to the door behind the hidden bookshelves, I glance toward the two-lane bowling alley.

“Do you bowl?” he asks.

“No,” I say.

Murphy stops and I almost bump into him. He narrows his eyes. “Really? Who doesn’t bowl?”

I point to myself. “Obviously me, since I just said it.”

He cants his head to the side. “Want me to teach you?”

“We’re going for a bike ride.”

“We can do both.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t you have a job?”

“Don’t you?” He tries to hide his grin by twisting his lips. “One round.” He brushes past me to the lanes, picking up a blue bowling ball and handing it to me. “Your thumb goes in the big hole and your middle and ring fingers go into the small holes.”

I stare at him for a few seconds before taking the ball. “I said I don’t bowl. I didn’t say I’ve never picked up a bowling ball.”


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