Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“It’s sweet that he’s so good with him.” She shakes her head and carries on. “I expected him to be grumpy, or quiet, but he was charming from the moment I opened the door.”
Blake, charming? Sweet, I can see, but charming? Not so much.
“I like his energy.”
“You like his energy?” I repeat, and she nods. “Are you the Dalai Lama now?” I ask, and she starts to laugh, then looks at the clock. I know what’s coming, because it’s almost nine, and since I can remember, she’s done the same thing every weekday morning.
“It’s almost time for Sam and me to watch Joe’s Morning Joe.”
“Right.” I kiss her cheek, then set down my coffee and go to the living room, where I pick up my boy and look at Blake. “Are you ready?” He lifts his chin, then gets up off the floor while I smother my sweet boy’s face with kisses that make him giggle. “Be good for Grandma while I’m gone,” I tell him, and he gurgles something before going into my mom’s open arms. “I’ll have my phone on me if you need anything.”
“We’ll be fine, won’t we?” she asks Sampson as he attempts to eat her shirt, then looks at me. “Don’t forget your dad and I are leaving for Idaho tonight when you get home.”
Damn, how could I forget they’re going to see my brother and his family for the weekend? Now I’m even more anxious about seeing Lex’s parents tomorrow, because I will have to do it alone. And no way am I going to tell my mom, because I know she’s been looking forward to spending time with my nieces, and I don’t want her to cancel the trip.
“I haven’t forgotten,” I say as I go to the kitchen to grab Sampson a frozen chewy out of the freezer and my coffee off the counter. Giving him the toy, I kiss his cheek, then grab my purse and vest while Blake says goodbye. When we get outside and I see his oversize truck parked at the curb with a trailer attached to it carrying a dirty black four-wheeler, I bite my lip. It’s one thing to think about having to spend time alone with him . . . but another thing to know I’m going to be spending the next few hours alone with him.
“Let me help you with that.” He opens the passenger door for me, and I use the foot rail to heft myself up into the seat as his hand rests against my back, searing through my shirt and imprinting on my skin.
“Thanks,” I mumble, tucking my feet inside the truck.
“Buckle up.” He slams the door, and I jerk the seat belt across me as he jogs around the hood of the truck. When he gets in behind the wheel, I remind myself this is not a date and I have no reason to be nervous. “Ready?”
“Yep,” I say, and as he turns on the engine, the sound of quiet hip-hop fills the cab.
“Your mom seems nice.” He lifts his hand to wave past me, and I turn to find my mom and Sampson both waving from the open front door.
“She’s the best.” I wave at her and my son, then tuck my hands between my legs as the truck pulls away from the curb. “How’s your dad doing?” When he doesn’t answer right away, I doubt he’s going to, but then he lets out a long breath and starts to tap the steering wheel.
“He only tells me as much as he has to. He knows I’ll bring up him telling my mom and sister if he says he’s not okay.”
“Oh,” I say quietly, squeezing my legs together tightly to hold my hands in place and not reach over and touch him. “You’re the only person he’s told, the only one who knows?”
“Yeah.” He takes a hand off the steering wheel to run his fingers through his hair. “The day I met you at your dad’s office, I was planning on telling my grandmother, but she wasn’t there, so I took it as a sign that maybe she shouldn’t know.”
“I bet she would want to know,” I tell him honestly. I mean, I know for sure his mom and sister would want to know as well, but as a mom, I would want to know that my baby was sick, and I don’t think that changes no matter your kid’s age.
“I don’t know. She’s not exactly been acting like herself since she got a boyfriend who’s half her age.”
“The guy she’s dating is half her age?” I ask, and he glances over at me.
“Maybe not half, but he’s forty-five tops, so a lot younger than her.”
“Go, Grandma.” I smile when I notice his jaw twitch. “Let me guess—you don’t like him. I can’t say that’s shocking.”