Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 116231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“Okay,” she chirps, turning her eyes back to her video as I walk into the bathroom. I walk over to the sink, turn on the cold water, and then splash some on my face. I brush my teeth and spend way too much time in the bathroom, grabbing a pair of shorts and putting them on over my boxers.
As soon as I walk out of the bathroom, Nora bounces up on the bed onto her feet and jumps twice. “I’m hungry.”
“Of course you are,” I say and she jumps another time before bouncing on her butt and then getting off the bed. She runs over to me, and I hold out my arms for her to jump into them. It’s something she does often, but I know it’ll only be a matter of time before she stops.
I walk out of my bedroom and see the doors of the boys’ rooms are still closed and we turn and walk down the steps to the kitchen. I walk over to the family room, off the kitchen, and place her on the couch there. She unwraps her legs and gets onto the couch, grabbing the throw blanket and reaching for her iPad and then the remote. I grab a separate remote and open the shades in the kitchen, then the family room, before heading to the kitchen and starting the coffee.
“Pancakes?” I ask her, making sure she didn’t change her mind in the five minutes since she asked for them.
“Yup,” she confirms, not even turning around.
“Do you want to help me?” I ask her, stepping into the walk-in pantry and grabbing the ingredients.
“No,” she says, “my legs are too tired.”
“Then you should have stayed in bed,” I tell her as I place the mixing bowl and the pancake mix on the counter.
“My legs are tired, not my eyes.” Her comeback makes me laugh and shake my head.
“Let’s hope your arms aren’t tired or you won’t be able to eat.”
“No,” she states as the music starts on the television for one of her movies, “my arms are good.”
“Good to know,” I toss back sarcastically as I mix all the ingredients together. I walk over, grabbing the cup of coffee and adding milk to it before I find the skillet. I’m making pancakes when I hear footsteps on the stairs and then look over to see Westley walking in. He’s wearing his boxers and a T-shirt, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Morning.” I smile at him.
“Morning,” he grumbles, walking straight for the couch and falling onto it. He reaches up to grab the other throw blanket to cover himself.
“I’m making pancakes, sausage, and scrambled eggs,” I tell him and then move to the fridge to grab the carton of eggs and the breakfast sausages. I mix the whole carton in a bowl before adding them to a frying pan, scrambling them while I flip the pancakes. Taking another small pan, I add the sausage into it. It takes me twenty-five minutes to have it all done, but I know they’ll demolish it in half the time. “Come and eat,” I say, and Nora is the first one off the couch.
She walks over to the stool she always sits on, pulling it out, and climbing onto it. “I want two,” she instructs me, and I place two on her plate, adding the syrup myself. The last time she had syrup to the rim. I cut her pancakes into pieces as Westley grabs his own plate and goes over to the stool.
Vincent walks in at that very moment. “Just in time,” I inform him, and he goes to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of orange juice before talking to me. His hair is sticking up all over the place. He’s dressed exactly like I am. He finishes the small bottle before turning to me. His breathing comes in pants from drinking the whole thing without stopping. “Morning.” He walks over and tosses the plastic bottle in the recycling bin before looking at what I made and grabbing a plate.
I wait until they finish grabbing their stuff before making myself a plate, which is mostly the eggs. Instead of sitting down, I stand up on the other side of the island, looking at the kids. “So,” I grab some eggs on my fork, “did you guys have fun yesterday?”
“Yeah,” Vincent says out loud, picking up a breakfast sausage on his fork and biting it. “I really liked the beginning.”
I smile at him. “Kirby’s sister is really cool,” Westley adds, and my ears perk up, as if I’m a dog and I just heard the mailman arrive.
“Kylie,” I say her name and my stomach tightens at the same time my cock stirs.
“Yeah,” Vincent agrees while Westley nods his head, “she showed me a cool high-five handshake.” He smirks. “She said we should do it every time you guys scored.”