Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Markie is the strongest, fiercest woman that I’ve ever met, and her strength and intelligence are two of the things that I enjoy the most about her. She doesn’t back down from anything. She goes after what she wants … and she’s smart enough, and capable enough, to make those decisions for herself.
Mom sighs. “Until it looks right means keep stirring until it gets thick. Until it looks like gravy.”
“This mess is gonna wind up being gravy?” I make a face. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure if you followed the recipe I texted you. I’m less sure if you didn’t.”
I roll my eyes.
“Are you stirring? I don’t hear stirring,” she says like she’s fed up with me.
That makes me smile. “Yes, Mother. I’m stirring. Here. Listen.” I put the phone next to the skillet and stir for a few seconds before bringing it back to my ear. As I do that, the liquid magically changes … and turns into gravy. “Hey! Look at that. It’s thickening.”
“Shocking, I know.”
Chuckling, I turn the heat way down. “You know, I used to think that Gus got his smart-assness from me. But I think maybe we both got it from you.”
“Don’t you say such a thing about my sweet grandbaby,” she says, feigning shock.
“He’s eleven, you know? I get reminded of that all the time.”
“Oh, I know. It’s not one of my favorite things to think about, but yes, I know he’s eleven. Twelve, soon.” She sighs. “I miss you boys so much.”
My heart sinks.
I hate that I’ve been so far away from her for most of my adult life. We talk a lot, and I visit her every offseason and during the holidays, but it never seems enough. I’ve volunteered to rent her a place in whatever city I’m working in, but she says she likes her life with her friends in California. What’s a man to do? I don’t know. Live with the guilt, I guess.
“I miss you, too, Mama.”
“Are you good with the gravy? Need anything else?”
I survey the kitchen, finding the biscuits on the counter and a plate of bacon beside it because Gus looked at me like I was out of my mind when I told him that bacon doesn’t go with biscuits and gravy. “That’s what Gram does,” he’d said. I also did a few scrambled eggs in case Markie doesn’t like gravy. She’ll have options.
“Is dinner ready yet?” Gus asks from the table. His head is propped up on his hand while he pretends to do his math packet.
“Almost.” The gravy is perfect, so I shut off the heat. “I think we’re good, Mom. Thanks for your help.”
“Of course. Love you, baby boy.”
I grin. “Love you, Mama.”
“Love you, Gram!” Gus shouts from the table.
“Aw, you tell that boy that I love him more than the moon and stars,” she says. “Bye, Jory.”
“Goodbye.”
I end the call and turn to set the phone beside the sink when a knock rings through the house.
“I’ll get it!” Gus shouts, jumping up from the table, all too happy to abandon the packet that he was supposed to start on half an hour ago. I figured it was good for him to attempt it alone. And if he managed to get some of it done before Markie got here, that would give her and me more time together alone.
I pull in a breath at the thought of being alone with her again. Let’s pray it goes differently this time.
My eyes are glued to the doorway, but their voices reach me before they do.
Markie follows Gus into the kitchen, and I swear her presence sucks the oxygen out of the room.
Holy shit.
Markie didn’t come to play.
Or … maybe she did.
A smirk settles against my lips.
The bombshell is temptation wrapped in a sundress. The green dress hugs her curves, and her hair is pulled back, save for a few strands that fall around her face. The delicate slope of her shoulders is on full display, and I have an irrational urge to brush my thumb along her collarbone. And the coy grin on her face tells me none of this was an accident.
She pauses at the table before moseying my way. Her thick lashes flutter with mischief. “Hey, you.”
“Hey to you,” I say, rooted in place. My gaze is trained on her as she moves like a vision, inching closer.
My breath hitches in my throat as she drags a fingertip over my abs as she passes me. Goose bumps spread across my skin like wildfire, and I can’t do anything to stop it.
“It smells amazing in here. What did you make?” she asks, moving to the stovetop.
“Biscuits and gravy,” Gus says. “If it sucks, that’s on him because he used my grandma’s recipe, and hers is killer.”
Markie laughs. “Good to know. Grandma recipes are always the best.” She looks at Gus over her shoulder. “You should taste my Lolly’s fried chicken. It’s the best in the universe.”