Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 56295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
“Thanks.” Right now, there doesn’t seem to be a worry. The way she had no problem responding to my kiss, I’d say we’re on even playing level. I step back, allowing her to get the drinks ready as I fish out the charcuterie whatever board and pull the wrapper off it. I didn’t give a fuck the cost if it meant we could both enjoy an evening away from other shit besides what’s working between us right now.
“No problem, sweetheart.” My eyes laser in on her backside as she turns around. Rosaleigh may have lost more weight than she should have, but that doesn’t mean she lost all of her curves. She’s got strong shoulders, a lean waist, hips that flare out, and an ass to make a man weak, paired with the cotton shorts she’s wearing, showing off her lean legs. A tank top that should be illegal in all fifty states. My mouth waters at the thought of sliding the fabric off her body, desperately seeking what she would look like when my lips attached to her pebbled nipples. Yeah, Douchebag David is definitely a fucking idiot, and given the chance, I’d work my ass off to make her forget about the man who ripped her world apart, abandoning her and their two amazing little girls. Girls who, given the chance, I’d take as my own even though my blood isn’t flowing through their veins.
It doesn’t take me long to grab the platter and unlock the back door, another battle that I see is now being implemented after I replaced this lock as well. That one is on me. The first thing I should have done when Douchebag David walked out was change or re-key everything. Sadly, it was the last thing on my mind when the three little women were struggling the most. I made my presence known then and let things fall by the wayside. I put the platter on the outdoor loveseat Leigh has set up, two chairs on either side, cushioned, well-loved and well used, yet still holding on strong. She has a way of making things work in her favor, is not above hitting up a thrift store or a garage sale, bringing it home, having her girls load and off-load it if I’m not around. Then she re-imagines shit I could never even fathom, sanding this, cutting that, painting a piece of furniture if she can’t get it to her liking. Some might think it looks tacky, but when it’s all said and done, you would never know that she picked up the two patio end tables for five bucks.
I move off the wooden deck and walk around the side of the deck to flip the switch for the outdoor fire pit Rosaleigh picked up a few months ago, another one of her finds, practically brand new. She grabbed it for a steal at the local thrift story because a contractor couldn’t use it. Of course, that meant me spending a Saturday over here and running a gas line. The company, the food, and the view were worth it. Which reminds me, I bet Leigh hasn’t checked her gas tank, seeing as how I’ve yet to see or hear her complain about the hefty bill that comes with having it refilled.
“Nix, what are you working on now?” Rosaleigh says as I flip the switch. I won’t have time to take a look at the gas levels now. If she knows what I’m up to, it’ll be another worry that I don’t want her thinking about tonight.
“I’m not. Just walked down here to flip the switch. The idiot who installed the line could have made it easier for you to get to.” I clearly wasn’t thinking it would be smarter to have it on a switch near the patio wall instead of near the main shut-off to the propane.
“It’s not that difficult to walk down a few stairs. My feet aren’t that delicate.” I walk back up the steps, one hand on the railing. The flicker from the fire illuminates her beauty. She’s got both hands full with our drinks, a blanket draped over her forearm. And thank you, God, she didn’t cover up a stitch of her body.
I arch my eyebrows at her statement. The woman doesn’t mind working with her hands, but I know for a fact that she does not like her feet dirty, so it surprises me that she’s on the back porch barefoot. “Okay, fine. I can wear shoes, you know. Besides, I like it back there. I won’t have to worry about one of the girls or their friends accidentally flipping the switch and a catastrophe happening.”
“Fine, I’ll leave it be. You ready to eat and have a drink?” I ask her as I walk closer, my hand going to the one that’s holding my bourbon neat without ice like I prefer.