Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
I grab a package of wet wipes from under the counter and walk to sit next to Daisy. Her eyes are so blue that I used to only see Chris, but now I see Baylor, too. I wipe up her face just as she finishes her ice cream. “Was it good?”
“Mm-hmm.” She nods and holds her arms out. I bring her to my lap as she attaches to me with her arms around my neck. Rubbing her back, I ask, “You tired? Is your uncle Baylor keeping you busy?”
She nods again, this time relaxing against me. It’s not busy this time of day; the hours after lunch and before late afternoon sets in. I kiss the side of her head, then look up to catch Baylor watching me.
He says, “On the drive over, she said she wanted curls like Leelee’s. Dark with long hair.”
Her hair is so fine and light in color with sweet little pigtail curls. I rock back and forth just enough to encourage the nap she’s decided she needs. “Growing up, I was always envious of Christine’s hair. The color and it didn’t matter how messed up it got, mine looked like a rat’s nest compared to it.”
Leaning against the ice cream case, he rests his elbows on the top, appearing to be staying a while. I wouldn’t be upset if he did. I just know the kids aren’t going to let him lounge around too long.
He says, “I like your hair.”
Simple but direct and sweet. “Thank you.” I’d noticed his, but it doesn’t matter how many times he drags his fingers through it, he always looks freshly-rolled-out-of-bed-sex appealing. Men have it so easy.
“I think I’ve decided.”
Resting my head against the top of Daisy’s, I ask, “Decided?”
“I’ve decided what I want.”
His grin isn’t even naughty, but his eyes are by how every insinuation lies in the bluest parts of them as they intensify on me. I bite the side of my bottom lip, but then whisper, “What do you want, Baylor?”
“Shortcake.” He gives me a wink. “It’s my favorite.”
My mouth falls open as I stare into devilishly sexy eyes. I take a breath and clamp it shut, knowing I’m going to hell for flirting with him while holding a child. And God, Chris better never find out.
But then it hits me. We’re flirting. Baylor Greene is flirting with me, and I’m doing it right back. My throat has gone dry, my hands are sweating, and my tummy clenches from the look in his eyes. Oh, he’s good. Too good at this.
Unsure what to do other than stand, I’m careful not to wake Daisy as I go to hand her to him. She settles on him, turning her head to the other side, but her eyes are still closed.
“You know we’re going to hell for doing this in front of her, right?”
“What are we doing?” he asks, holding her like she’s his own.
And there go my ovaries.
Dragging my palms down my apron, I grab a cup and fill it with water from a pitcher nearby. I down half before I dare turn back. It’s tempting to just disappear into the kitchen and pretend this never happened. What are we doing anyway?
How did this escalate so quickly?
I know how. The man is hot. Fantasy hot. Inspiring me to invite him over again. No. That would be too forward.
Forward?
That’s what I’m worried about. I roll my eyes at myself and shake my head. I should be more concerned that I want to have sex with my best friend’s brother, Daisy and Beckett’s uncle . . . Oh my God. I’m a horrible person. Have I become so desperate that I’m not just thinking about the hometown hero in a compromising position, but I can almost feel his mouth fucking me like he did last night.
Good lord, the man’s practically an out-of-towner at this point. He leaves on Monday. Baylor Greene is the last person I should invest my heart or anything in.
“Hey there,” he says, his voice bringing me back to what’s happening right in front of me. He grins. “You disappeared on me.”
“No,” I lie. “I’m right here.” I lean on the counter, trying to act nonchalant when I’m the most “chalant” I’ve ever been, wound up tighter than a knot that won’t come undone. “I didn’t make any shortcake today.”
His expression relaxes, the lines easing at the corners of his eyes. “That’s okay. You can make up for it later.”
My entire body alerts. “Later?” Please mean tonight.
“Well, you know, another time.”
“Right.” I shake it off like I understood what he meant all along. “Another time.”
Raising his free hand up in the air, he says, “I’m going to ask you about money, and that does not mean I think you’re desperate or wanton or whatever your mind concocts at the moment.”