Total pages in book: 248
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
What in the hell is that?
A horde of tiny egg-shaped aliens with large, googly eyes stared back at him like a dozen tiny, ridiculous judges. This was neither useful nor orderly. But was he angry? No.
His first reaction was the thrill of having an excuse to spank one naughty redhead. And that was a problem. He looked at the eggs again and barely held back a grin. His kitchen had officially been invaded by one mischievous Little wildfire.
Rose entered the room, sleepy-eyed and shuffling her feet. She glanced up at him and tugged on the leg of his jeans. Since her mother, his Tricia, had died, Rose had developed this system of gestures and expressions. And damn if that didn’t make his heart break.
But at least he’d come to understand her. Right now, she wanted to know what he was staring at in the fridge. It was a good question. He lifted her up and pointed at the eggs. “I think our new nanny has been decoratin’ our eggs,” he said.
For half a second, he thought his daughter might speak. He held his breath, waiting for a breakthrough, but she didn’t make a sound. She did giggle a little, then just patted his arm in solidarity and wiggled to get down.
Before shuffling to the living room, she pointed up at his cup and grinned. With a sigh, he turned the other side of his cup to face him. Sure enough, one lone googly eye was stuck dead center on his favorite mug.
Yep, he’d hired one naughty Little nanny. His palm itched something fierce. Barely suppressing the need to yell out Sage’s name, he closed the fridge slowly.
An energy had buzzed through the house every morning for the past four days. Before Tricia died, he’d loved the silence. After she died, he’d hated it. Maybe that’s why he’d been feeling more cheerful lately. At least for as long as Rose’s naughty nanny was with them, that sad silence was driven out.
From the other room, he heard Sage greeting Rose. “Good morning, sweetness. Did you sleep well?”
“That woman’s gonna blaze through our lives like a damn wildfire,” he muttered under his breath. But fuck if part of him didn’t long for it.
He carried his mug, googly eye still attached, into the living room. Sage sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Rose, animatedly reading from the dragon book again. Rose was actively engaged, once again a tiny smile on her face.
Sage looked up when he entered. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with pure mischief when she saw the mug in his hand. “Let’s tell your dad good morning, Rose. What do you say?” Turning back to Grady, she sang, “Morning, Daddy,” batting her lashes.
Rose didn’t say anything but smiled and clapped.
Grady held the mug up. The googly eye wobbled. Wait, what had she said? The pulse of his cock was all he needed to remind him. Even as a joke, hearing the word Daddy on her lips did dangerous things to his libido.
Before he could answer, Sage tilted her head, studying his face with open curiosity. “Wow,” she said, voice softer now, almost breathless. “Your eyes are the darkest green I’ve ever seen. They’re like a tall, dark pine at night. I hadn’t noticed before. Must have been too busy trying not to get fired.”
His heart swelled at her words, his wife had complimented him on his eyes all the time. For a moment, he forgot about the ridiculous mug in his hand.
Sage’s cheeks turned a bright pink, but she didn’t look away. Instead, her grin returned. “Your eyes are kinda pretty when you’re not pretending to be so mean,” she added, clearly enjoying herself. “Makes it harder to be scared of you.”
Oh, did it now? His palm seemed to be in a perpetual state of itching whenever she was around. Grip tightening on his mug, he took one slow step closer, voice low and rough. “I don’t pretend to be mean. I am mean.”
She grinned. “If you say so.”
As he suspected, she wasn’t afraid of him at all. Still, he couldn’t let her comment stand. “And I’m not your Daddy.”
She shrugged off his reprimand. “I’m just trying to bond with Rose. I won’t try… if you say so.”
Just how much did she want to feel his hand blistering her ass? Probably not as much as he did. He glared at her. “Stop saying that.”
“Saying what?”
“If you say so.”
“If you say…”
But before she could finish and trigger the reaction she seemed to be aiming for, he strode back to the kitchen. He had to get away from the maddening woman because, God help him, some deep, buried part of him liked hearing “Daddy” on her lips far too much. For god’s sake, he’d just met the girl.
Hearing that word shouldn’t feel like a betrayal of his wife’s memory, but it did. It cut like a damn knife. Like someone else was stepping into a space that should stay empty.