Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“Can I help?” she asks softly.
“I’ve got this,” I tell her, cracking eggs into a bowl, adding some milk, salt, and pepper, before whisking them together. Silence hangs between us, and for someone who has never hated the silence, it’s annoying the fuck out of me right now.
“How was your weekend?” I ask her.
“Oh, um, it was fine.” Her voice is high, telling me that it was indeed not fine.
“I’ll ask again. How was your weekend?”
She sighs heavily. “It really was fine. Although,” she’s quick to add, already knowing I’m not one to give up, “I did spend most of it worried I was going to get a call for reassignment for today.”
I’m just about to pour the eggs into the skillet, but I freeze to look at her. She’s chewing on her bottom lip. I suddenly have the urge to reach out and free it from her teeth, only to trace it with my tongue to soothe the ache.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t think these kinds of thoughts. Not ever.
“I was up early today, waiting for your replacement to arrive.” Her skin goes pale, and I realize how my words sounded. “Shit. Not that I wanted to replace you. I didn’t. I just assumed after the way I acted on Friday, you’d ask to be reassigned.”
“No,” she whispers. “I wouldn’t do that.”
This time, I’m the one who’s nodding my response as I pour the scrambled eggs into the hot skillet. I push them around with the spatula before dropping some toast into the toaster.
“Are you sure I can’t help?” Eden asks.
“Are you afraid I’m going to burn it?” I tease, baffled because I really only ever tease with the guys. I’m not this person. Not anymore. Making a pretty girl smile has been low on my list of priorities since being drafted.
“The jury’s still out,” she says, and this time, I look up just in time to catch a soft smile tugging at her lips.
Damn.
“I see how it is. Just because I’m an athlete, I can’t cook; is that it?”
“I mean, you pay me to clean for you,” she teases.
“Touché.” I chuckle. The toast pops up, and I quickly slather some butter on it, place it on the two plates I have sitting out, and then divide up the eggs.
“What, no cheese? No hot sauce? What kind of food establishment is this?” She pretends to be appalled, but that smile that tugs at those full, kissable lips tells a different story.
“Ask, and you shall receive.” I wink before grabbing a bag of shredded cheese and a bottle of hot sauce and placing them on the counter in front of her.
“I was just teasing,” she says, with a soft laugh.
“I can’t have you dissing my cooking skills,” I tell her.
She shakes her head. “Trust me, I wouldn’t have anyone to tell, even if they weren’t perfectly fluffy and delicious,” she says, shoving another bite of egg into her mouth.
“What do you mean?” I ask her.
“My best friend, Carrie, is married and has two kids. I don’t get to see her as much as I’d like. They invite me over all the time, and I know that I’m welcome, but I hate tagging along on their family things just because she feels sorry for me.”
“Does she?” I ask.
“Does she what?”
“Does she feel sorry for you? Maybe your best friend wants to make memories with you and her family.”
She pauses, letting my words sink in.
“You’re right,” she agrees. “It’s my hang-up. When you’re always the one left behind, it feels like pity when you fifth wheel it with your best friend, her husband, and her two kids.”
“I understand. I have four best friends who are also my teammates, and they’ve all settled down and are starting or trying to start families. Sometimes, I feel like the odd man out, but I still go. I still participate because they’re my family. My guess is that Carrie and her husband both see you as family. And you’re Aunt Eden to her kids, aren’t you?”
A light pink blush coats her cheeks. “Yeah,” she says. “I love those kids.”
I nod. “If I’ve learned anything in life, it’s that family is what you make it. So next time they invite you over, go. Don’t worry about being the fifth wheel. Hell, I’m the ninth wheel, but I still go. They’re my people, and when you grow up not having people, you cherish and hold on to them when they come into your life.” Fuck, I just need to shut up. What is it about this woman that has me opening up to her more than I ever have with my found family that I’ve been lecturing her about?
“You know,” she says, before wiping her mouth and tossing her napkin onto her now-empty plate, “you’re pretty insightful for a jock.”