Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 43870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“Is she all right?” Tanner asked.
“She’s happy as a clam. That’s her first sleepover at a friend’s house. You’d think she’d be nervous or a little homesick, but no.”
“That’s because she’s well-adjusted.” He stood abruptly and skirted the island. “I’m hungry. I’m making toast and eggs. You might as well eat something too.”
“If you insist.” I sipped my coffee. “Can I help?”
“No, you can just sit there lookin’ pretty,” he said, tossing my teasing words from last night back at me. Tanner banged a few pots and pans, pulled out a skillet, and marched to the fridge. “I have a meeting in an hour at the office, which gives me time to eat, clean up, and send you off to Josh and Angie’s. Do you like scrambled eggs?”
“Uh…yes. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Tanner hummed while he worked, swaying his hips to the tune in his head. The unconscious moves churned up a few delicious flashbacks of my dick in his ass. Goose bumps rose on my forearms. Fuck, I wanted him all over again.
I concentrated on my coffee and answered a few perfunctory questions. Did I like bacon? Of course. Did I like orange juice? Sure. What did I normally eat for breakfast?
“Cereal,” I replied. “I make pancakes or waffles sometimes on the weekends for Phee. But I’m usually in a hurry in the mornings. I don’t have time to make anything fancy.”
“Same here, and it’s a shame ’cause I love breakfast,” Tanner said, sliding a huge plate of eggs and bacon in front of me. “Hang tight. The toast is almost ready. I’ll get the butter and jam for us.”
He returned with a plate for himself and another stacked with toast.
“This is great. Thank you.”
Tanner snorted. “You’re welcome, but it’s basic fare. If we had more time, I’d make eggs benedict or a frittata with goat cheese. All fresh ingredients in true farm-to-table style.”
I smiled at his boyish enthusiasm. He brimmed with an almost naïve sense of wonder that might have made me think Tanner was a little simple if I hadn’t known he was the mastermind behind Oak Ridge Ranch.
This man was the opposite of simple and all the more dangerous for it. Anyone guilty of underestimating Tanner Spade would regret it.
“Delicious,” I commented, tucking in with gusto.
“Slow down, Axe. If I know anything about kids, Phoebe will be bummed if you pick her up too soon.”
“I know, but I still have to get her home to get dressed and go to pre-K. She’ll be late at this point.”
“She’s five. I doubt she’ll miss anything.”
“Hmph.” I buttered a slice of wheat toast and took a bite.
“I don’t know how you do it all on your own. Raising a kid and juggling two jobs must be challenging.” His tone was light, but I was instantly on guard.
I paused midchew and eyed him warily. I had a feeling I was being fed and pumped for information, and I didn’t like being manipulated.
Tanner didn’t blink.
What was it about this guy? It didn’t usually take much to scare off most folks—a glare, a scowl, a blank stare. Tanner just speared egg onto a piece of buttered toast and chomped it, his gaze fixed on me.
“Yeah,” I conceded, still glaring. “It can be tough.”
“You look like you want to skewer me on a kebob.” He snickered. “I’m not grilling you. I’m just a naturally curious person, and I don’t think it’s weird to want to know a little about the guy who fucked you silly. More coffee?”
Tanner slid off his stool to grab the carafe and refilled our mugs while I fought an internal battle that didn’t seem to have a purpose.
I polished off a slice of bacon and dabbed the corners of my mouth with a napkin. “What do you want to know?”
He considered me thoughtfully, then blurted, “Is her mom out of the picture?”
“Yeah. She died in a car accident, eight months pregnant with Phee.”
Tanner paled. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I—”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I don’t know what to say. That’s heartbreaking. Your wife—”
“We weren’t married.” It was a brush-off, and it might have worked if I could have come up with a distraction, but pushing him away felt like too much work. “Melanie was my…friend.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“No…my friend that I occasionally slept with.” I rubbed my bearded jaw as I raked my teeth over my bottom lip. “We’d had a relationship years ago—ten years ago, maybe. I was a bouncer at a club where she danced, and we hit it off. I moved from Denver to Vegas somewhere in there, but if I happened to be in town, we hooked up.”
“Ahh.”
“You’d have liked her. Everyone did. Mellie was fun and vivacious. She was a five-foot-two, beautiful blond who swore like a sailor and could drink anyone under the table. She quit dancing eventually and became a bartender. She said the tips weren’t as good, but she had a plan to ease out of the club circuit and settle down, start a family.”