Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 115683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Her eyes go soft. “Everything’s better now, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” I kiss her clit. “Heaven. Let’s find it together, yeah?”
“Yeah.” She nods.
And we do. Twice that night. Again in the morning.
Truth is heaven really is a place on earth. Long as I get to be with the people I love, I’m there.
I’m never fucking leaving again.
THE END
Epilogue
SECOND CHANCES
Lainey
“So you just make a shovel with your hand and scoop up the dough.” Dean dips his hand into the bowl and tucks his little hand underneath the flour and water mixture. “Just like this. See? Now you give it a try.”
Nodding, I press my tongue into the corner of my mouth and stick my hands inside the bowl beside Dean’s. “Like this?” I carefully turn the dough over in the bowl.
“Like that,” Colt says with a nod. “Now I’m going to add the starter and the salt. Y’all keep mixing with your hands, okay?”
Dean grins. “Got it, Dad.”
Colt’s arm brushes mine as he spoons the sticky sourdough starter into the bowl. “About a third of a cup or so should do the trick.”
“So that’s the stuff that makes the magic happen.” I mimic Dean’s motions. The crumbly mixture that sticks to my fingers is soft and warm. Inhaling, I pick up on the dough’s deliciously cozy smell. It’s earthy. Savory even. I can only imagine how good it’s going to smell once this loaf is in the oven.
“Yep. It’s what gives the bread its rise. I can’t wait for you to try it.”
Dean is still grinning. “It’s gonna change your life, Lainey.”
Colt and I laugh at that, exchanging a glance. This kid is really fucking cute.
It’s Saturday morning. We’re all still in our jammies—well, Colt’s sweats-and-a-T-shirt version of jammies anyway, because he always sleeps naked—the three of us crowded around the counter in the kitchen. The scents of coffee and pancakes fill the air. Colt’s already got a fire going in the family room’s fireplace.
I slept great. Dean slept in, so Colt and I snuck in a slow, lazy round of morning sex before we padded out to the kitchen an hour or so ago. Starting my day off with an orgasm courtesy of a naked cowboy followed by a homemade breakfast just might be my favorite thing ever.
Life isn’t perfect. But I’m not sure I’ve ever been happier than I am right now.
When Dean suggested we make sourdough bread for tomorrow morning’s French toast, Colt and I were immediately on board. I’ve wanted to learn how to make it ever since Colt mentioned he knew how.
More than that, I’ve wanted to taste it. I’ve only had homemade bread a couple of times before.
The counter is a mess of flour and water and sticky dough, but Dean and I still giggle as we incorporate the starter into the flour and water. Colt adds a good amount of kosher salt to the mix. Dean and I work the dough for a little bit longer before Colt gives my ass a discreet pinch. My blood leaps.
“I think that should do it,” he says.
I hold up my hands, which are covered in dough. “Not fair. I can’t pinch you back.”
“Dad pinched you?” Dean’s brows snap together. “Dad, that’s not very nice of you.”
Colt’s lips twitch. “Sometimes Lainey likes it when I’m not nice.”
“Why?” Dean is clearly very confused by this.
To be fair, I was also confused about it for a while. But now I think it’s just plain hot when he throws it back to our enemies-with-benefits era.
Leaning in, I kiss Colt’s mouth. His scruff is always scruffier in the mornings, and it catches on my chin and cheeks.
I love it.
“Because that’s just how your dad is sometimes,” I say.
Dean shakes his head, but he’s grinning again. “You guys are gross.”
“So gross.” Colt covers the bowl and places it beside the stove. “All right, this needs some time to rest for a bit. Y’all did an awesome job.”
Turning, he gets the faucet going. Dean and I wash our hands together, agreeing that kissing is gross but that his dad is pretty good at it, so sometimes I like to do it. But only sometimes.
“You promise you’ll make French toast tomorrow morning, Dad? Please please please?”
Colt chuckles, pressing a kiss to my nape before he passes a towel to Dean. “I promise. Now how about we relax for a little bit, and then we can—”
“Ride!” Dean shrieks as he wipes his hands on the towel. “Yes! Lainey, you’re going to come, right? You’re getting so good at it. Even Auntie Billie said you were a natural.”
“And we know what a tough judge she is,” Colt says with a whistle. “Lainey, you got a lot to be proud of.”
To be honest, I am proud.
We snuggle on the couch by the fire and watch—what else—Frozen. Colt slips his hand inside my shirt and rubs my back. His fingers inch closer and closer to my breasts.