Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Warmth travels through my body, like the sun is shining on me. He got me sheets—the best sheets. Most of all, he did it before we joked about it. That’s why he was smirking like he had a secret a few minutes ago. He did it on his own. The man is entirely too thoughtful.
Especially since he left another note with the sheets. I read it.
I know you have some already, but…I wanted you to have these.
—T
Already, I like these better. Not for the thread count. But because he got them for me…just because. Stupidly, I hug them. I hold them close for longer than I should, then I go inside, a little giddy.
The door shuts behind me with a loud thud, breaking my thoughts. Breaking the trance too.
He hired me to work in his home. Of course he wants me to have nice sheets. It’s just thoughtful. It’s not a sign he wants to reconsider my offer from my failed wedding night.
And it’s for the best I stop reconsidering it too.
Later that morning, I pop upstairs to thank him and ask where the washing machine and dryer are. “So I can wash the sheets before I make the bed.”
“Right across from my bedroom,” he says, leading me upstairs and down the hall.
I try, I swear I try, not to look in his room.
But I fail, catching sight of the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. “Is that bigger than king-size? Is it what, emperor size?”
Tyler laughs, eyes twinkling. “Yes. It’s for my reign in the bedroom.”
And then both our smiles falter. At once.
One day at a time, I tell myself. One day at a time, and I’ll learn how to survive working for this man.
On Thursday morning I’m driving the kids to school after a skating lesson when Parker says from the backseat, “My mom knows what a shooting star is.”
Damn. This kid pulls no punches. “I bet she’s really smart.”
“She is. She likes science.”
He doesn’t say like me, but he doesn’t have to. It’s evident in his tone. “I’m so glad to hear that,” I say, hoping he can hear the sincerity in my tone. I peer in the rearview. “And I’m glad you and your mom have things in common.”
“Me too,” he mutters, then gets out at school with barely a goodbye.
Luna leans forward. “Boys are moody. But I’ll see you later.” She peers at the dashboard. “Oh, and you need a sign with our last name on it for the window to pick us up. I’ll get you one later today.”
I smile, a big relieved one. “You’re a lifesaver.”
She shrugs. “It’s easy-peasy.”
Then she takes off with a friendly wave that I’m more grateful for than I’d ever imagined I would be.
The next day, I pull up outside the kids’ school like a freaking pro. I’ve got a blue sign in the dashboard window with the name Falcon on it, which honestly kind of makes me feel cool. I’m there at exactly 3:02, which is precisely the best time to arrive for their three-fifteen exit. Early enough so I won’t make a mistake. I cut the engine and wait, blasting Amelia Stone and singing along to her girl anthems. A few minutes later, right on time, the kids stream out and Luna and Parker pile into the backseat.
I haven’t won over Parker yet. But that’s okay. These things take time, and I understand that we all react to change in different ways. But I’ve got a plan for today. Tyler’s in Vegas for the season opener, and I’ve been managing just fine the last few days. Well, my fancy sheets help.
“How’s it going?” I ask as I turn the music down.
Luna dives right into chatter as she yanks on her seatbelt. “I aced my math test.”
“You go,” I say, lifting my fist in a rocker salute. “Math girls unite.”
“And my friend Hannah is having a sleepover this weekend, and I want to go. Can I go?”
“We need to check with your dad,” I say as I flick on the blinker.
Parker scoffs at his sister. “I told you she’d have to ask Dad.”
“Well, he is your father,” I point out as I pull into relatively light afternoon traffic.
“Yeah, but Agatha was able to make those decisions,” Parker says, but he’s less, well, mean than he was when he said it earlier in the week. Less hurt too, I think. Maybe more matter-of-fact.
I sense an opening. “Parker, do you have any plans for tonight?” I ask, evenly, not giving myself away.
“I don’t know. Do I?” he asks, curious, like a cat wanting to check out your new food offering but not sure he trusts you.
“You do now,” I say. Then I tell him what we’re going to do.
And in the rearview mirror, I see his jaw drop.
14
DICK CONTROL
Tyler
The Las Vegas forward is charging down the ice at Mach speed, and Lambert looms in the net, a beast protecting his lair.