Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 101872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“I am not wishy-washy. Now, give her back,” Saxon demanded.
“No. You had your chance. She’s mine now.” Renard turned away. “Jones! Cut those carrots smaller. And how is the gratin coming along?”
“Renard, you cannot keep my baby,” Saxon told him.
“Sure I can.”
“You just told me that it was too loud and stimulating in here,” Saxon said with exasperation.
“She doesn’t seem to know that. She’s fast asleep. She was probably just upset because she doesn’t have a name yet.”
“Lord give me strength.”
Renard didn’t know what he was asking for strength for. Probably to help him be less wishy-washy.
“When are you going to name her?” he demanded.
“When Aspen can decide on a name.”
“Why don’t you name her?” Renard asked.
“Because this should be a joint decision and right now Aspen is in a . . . she’s just not ready.”
He was not going to ask.
Wasn’t any of his business, but still . . .
“She got that depression women get after a baby?” he asked as he moved into the pantry.
“I don’t know,” Saxon said, looking pensive. “Maybe? I need to get her to Jenna, but she doesn’t want to leave the bed.”
“So get Jenna to come to her. Problem solved.”
“I think I will.”
“Well?” Renard demanded.
“Well what?” Saxon asked.
“Go do it now. What are you waiting for?”
“It’s Saturday. Jenna doesn’t work on a Saturday.”
“She’ll come if you ask her.”
Saxon nodded. It wasn’t like him to be so indecisive but he looked tired. “I’ll call her. Once you give me my daughter.”
“She’s happy here. Go do your shit and then come back to get her.”
“Are you sure?” Saxon asked.
“Go away.”
“Where is Malina?”
Saxon had hired a second chef so that Renard could take time off. Who the fuck had said he needed time off?
Not him.
Time off just meant time to think which was not something he wanted.
“Car broke down and she’s waiting for someone to give her a ride. Told her that it was a piece of shit.”
Saxon ran his hand over his face. “Is she quitting? She’s going to quit, isn’t she?”
“How the fuck do I know?” Renard retorted, walking back into the kitchen.
Shit. Evan was fucking everything up.
“Don’t swear in front of my daughter.”
Renard scoffed. “She’s two weeks old. She doesn’t know the word fuck.”
“And I don’t want her knowing it,” Saxon said firmly. “I do not want her first word to be fuck.”
“Don’t worry, it’s not going to be.”
“Because you’re going to stop swearing?” Saxon asked.
“Because her first word is gonna be ‘Renard.’ Now, go away and leave me to work and take care of your baby.”
Saxon shook his head but turned to leave. “I’ll come back for her in an hour.”
“You better!”
He waited until the other man was gone to whisper to the little one. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll find you a good name.”
Opal groaned. Rolling out of bed, she stumbled to the door.
Who the hell was knocking on her door at this time of morning? Were they mad? It was only . . . ten.
Fine. Okay. Maybe it wasn’t that early. But still, it was Saturday morning, people!
She opened the door and glared with one eye shut. The sun blasted her other retina making her regret not grabbing her sunglasses.
“What is it?” she snarled at the small woman standing on her porch.
“Well, I never! That is not acceptable attire to wear while answering the door!”
Great.
Mrs. Grackle stood there, scowling at her.
Her name wasn’t really Mrs. Grackle, it was Gingers. However, Opal thought she acted like a darn grackle. Always squawking about everything. She was the most annoying neighbor and there was nothing she loved more than to look down her nose at people.
Well, at Opal.
She’d made it very clear that she did not approve of Opal moving into the house across the road from hers.
Opal was used to people giving her weird looks. She knew she wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea and that was fine with her.
But it would be great if people could refrain from knocking on her door at ten on a Saturday morning just to look at her rudely.
Hmm. Could the Grackle have had something to do with her broken security light?
Nah. She was a pain in the butt, but she wouldn’t break other people’s stuff.
Although that reminded Opal that she needed to check the light today.
“Listen, lady, you knocked on my door and woke me up. Want me to be fully dressed? Come at a decent hour.” She glanced down at her silky pajama set. It was an oatmeal color with lace at her chest and on the sides of her thighs.
She thought she looked damn hot.
“It’s ten in the morning and some of us have been up for hours,” the older woman huffed.
“Yes, but some of us didn’t go to bed before the sun set.”
“No, I am well aware of that,” Mrs. Grackle replied, grasping her faux-leather brown handbag to her chest. She was wearing a brown blazer and brown skirt that finished part way down her calves.