Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
“Already? We just got here!” She laughs as she leans back, but I know she’s feeling it too.
From the corner of my eye, I see Dan heading back to the front. He ducks behind one of the deer-chewed bushes beside the porch. Sophie’s already on the ground in front, making a snow angel.
Damn. Guess I should’ve had them dressed in snowsuits rather than jeans and jackets.
Oh, well.
“Keep your eye on Dan. He’ll probably whip a snowball at you the second you step out,” I warn.
“He can try.” She opens the door and puts one leg out. “He probably forgot I have an older brother, too.”
I watch as she walks to the house, scooping up some of the thick snow in her bare hands and patting it into a ball.
Dan, busy hiding, doesn’t notice she’s armed and ready until he jumps up, snowball in hand.
The boy wins a nice fat snowball to the face.
I chuckle as I climb out. The frosty air nips my skin, but I don’t care.
Margot doubles over, laughing, her breath coming in soft puffs around her and a couple strands of blonde hair escaping from her bun.
“Not fair!” Dan yells as I approach.
“Fair. Don’t pick fights you can’t win, little man,” I say. “Especially when you’re not paying attention.”
Dan hurls his snowball at Margot, hitting her on the side as she turns.
Sophie comes running into the commotion, her hair already damp with snow and her face flushed from cold.
“Cool it,” I say, clapping my hands together. “We need to get unpacked before I have to watch you guys for frostbite.”
Predictably, they groan, and so does Margot.
“But Daaad,” they all say in unison.
“Don’t make me say it twice.”
With another groan, they all turn and start trudging back to the car.
“Not you.” I catch Margot’s wrist. “Let’s check the house before they blow in. Make sure everything’s okay inside. I know Mrs. Griffith was here for a quick check last week, but you never know.”
“Like just checking or checking for trouble?” She frowns.
“The house, duchess. It’s always good to have peace of mind.” I tap the end of her pink nose. “I’m not worried. Worst thing waiting for us in there is the cold. The cameras are still working.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.” Her shoulders loosen. “And yes, it’ll be freezing. I bought a bunch of heating pads and blankets for a reason. Let’s get a fire going, though.”
Hand in hand, we move, and I’m glad we’re ahead of my little tornadoes.
That ice on the porch needs salt. Margot skids on a slick patch from the eaves overhead and almost loses her balance.
I catch her, folding her into my chest.
She looks up with heated eyes.
“Wow. We really are back,” she whispers. “Feels familiar already.”
I smile back to that time in the attic, when we wound up in a similar position.
Hell, I think I fell for her right then.
“That time we kissed,” I growl.
“You can relive it.”
That’s all the invitation I need.
I swing her back up, kissing her long and hard before I see the blur in my peripheral vision.
I break away, holding out a hand, just in time to stop Dan from sprinting up the steps.
“Careful, Bud,” I say. “It’s icy over here. Why don’t you pass up your bags?”
Predictably, the very first thing he brought up was his drum pad. I take it off his hands.
With the door unlocked, Margot helps pass our luggage inside before heading in.
The place looks just like we left it, except we can see our breath.
She flicks on a light, and everything comes to life.
“Sooo cold! You can throw a penguin party in here.” Dan shivers.
“Won’t be for long,” I say, giving him back his drum pad. “Why don’t you move around while we crank the heat up? It’ll help. Go get settled upstairs.”
“You can choose your own room,” Margot adds. “Any room except for your dad’s room.”
“Our room,” I say.
She smiles then, her eyes dancing. “Our room, I mean.”
Dan doesn’t notice the exchange and shoots up. Sophie runs up after him, her suitcase flopping.
“Wait for me, Dan!” she yells, charging up the stairs.
I wince at the sound of the suitcase hitting every single step on the way up.
“Shit, sorry about that,” I say.
“What’s a few more scratches on the old wood?”
“I’m sure I can buff them out.”
“Oh, no. You’re not playing handyman this time, Kane Saint. We’ll find someone to fix it after we leave.”
The look in her eyes says there’s no argument.
Chuckling, I catch her around the waist, pulling her closer.
Amazingly, our hunger hasn’t slowed down a notch in our months together.
Hell, if anything, it’s growing like a beanstalk, ever since that kiss.
The fact that I can have her morning, noon, and night some days only makes me fucking ravenous.
If she’s not busy on calls with designers and physicians who want her Orthique line of shoes in production by summer, and I’m not investing in my latest start-up projects with mountains of vetting, we’re either with the kids or I’m locked up with her under me.