Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 22969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Which was why I always carried a pack in my purse, and why card games were some of my favorite things to play. My grandparents molded me into the man I was. They let my personality bloom, and while they didn’t agree with everything I did, my happiness was the most important thing to them.
Maybe that’s why little time appealed to me; because it brought me back to a time when I was so happy and free. It fanned away the pressures and expectations of adult life, and reminded me of my youth, and my family. They supported me, encouraged me, and loved me unconditionally. It was a feeling I’d never experienced with anyone else before or since, until I met the man sitting beside me.
Maybe it wasn’t love yet…on his end. My heart had made up its mind during our first conversation. But I knew without a doubt that his feelings for me were something deep and wonderful, and I could only hope they’d grow even stronger over time.
“Did you get enough to eat?” Daddy asked when my plate was empty.
“Yes, thank you. It was so yummy.”
“Good. Now that you are full, I have something else I think you’ll like.”
“Is it a cookie?” I asked hopefully, and he snorted a laugh.
“It wasn’t, but I think I can make that happen.” I clapped my hands as he opened a cabinet and retrieved a package of chocolate chip cookies - my favorite. He took two out of the pack and put them on the table in front of me. “You enjoy your treat, and I’ll be right back.” After kissing the top of my head, he disappeared down the hallway.
He returned just as I swallowed the last bite of my dessert. “What do you think, baby?” he asked as he placed on the tabletop a stack of paper and several pots of fingerpaint. “Would you like to paint a picture?”
“Yes!” I squealed excitedly. “Oh, thank you, Daddy!” I hugged him around the waist and he squeezed me back. “Should I change out of your shirt? I don’t want it to get messy.”
“Don’t worry about that. Just have fun, and if anything gets on the shirt, it will wash out.”
He sat down next to me and gave me his full attention. His eyes didn’t move from my hands as they dipped into the liquid colors and smeared across the plain white pages.
The stack of paper quickly shrank as I created one masterpiece after another. I painted a tree with fingerprint apples growing on its branches, a colorful butterfly, a rainbow with a pot of gold at one end, and a barn scene, with farm animals surrounding the building.
Daddy gushed over each picture, talking like each one should be hanging in a museum; even though my sheep only had three legs because the paint smeared and two of them joined together, and my butterfly was a little lumpy. Daddy didn’t care; he loved them. And while he didn’t have a museum to display them in, he did hang every one of them on his refrigerator, and beamed with pride.
“Which one is your favorite?” I asked curiously when all of my paper was gone, and I had run out of energy and interest for painting.
“This one,” he replied with a chuckle, booping my nose with his finger. I crossed my eyes to see that I had a green dot and a red smudge on my nose. My hands and arms were nearly black from all of the colors mixing together on my skin, but I was proud to see that I didn’t get a single spot on his shirt. “My little work of art.”
“Will you wipe me down with a cloth again?” I loved his care and gentility when he cleaned me earlier.
“I could, but what would you think about taking a nice warm bubble bath?”
I was on my feet before I realized I’d moved from my chair. “I think you have the best ideas.”
Chapter Four
Ford
I dipped my hand into the tub of bubbly water, making sure it was just the right temperature for my boy. I didn’t want to risk him getting burned. But it was perfectly warm and ready. “Okay baby, let’s get that shirt off of you.”
Keegan raised his arms to the ceiling, pulling the cotton up until his smooth sack barely peeked out from beneath it. I gripped the hem and pushed the fabric up his torso, relishing the feel of his soft skin beneath my fingers.
I lifted the neck hole over his head, and then worked his arms out, making sure not to get any paint on the fabric. I didn’t care, but I knew Keegan was worried about staining the shirt, and I didn’t want him to stress.
Once he was bare, I let my eyes roam over his form, taking in every beautiful inch. Every part of him was perfect; his smooth, pale skin, his slim build…even the colorful paint patches covering his arms, because they represented his creative spirit and the fun he had.