Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Rook does that weird choking laugh thing again, and Kylie just smacks his shoulder playfully. “Stop being annoying.”
He grins at her. “Who? Me?”
“Yes, you,” she responds and presses a kiss to his lips. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to start on my gammy’s famous beef vegetable soup.” She looks at me. “Do you want to help, Blair?”
Help? As in, help? Like what maids and staff do?
I have never helped in a kitchen before. There were always people for that. Hell, I don’t even know if I’ve ever seen my mom in the actual kitchen besides when she was meal-planning with our chefs.
Kylie looks at me like she just asked the simplest question in the world, and I don’t know what else to do besides nod.
“Sure.” I shrug one shoulder. “Why the hell not. Not like there’s anything else to do around here.”
Kane laughs at my words, and I don’t hesitate to flip him the middle finger.
But it only makes him laugh more. “You’re real fucking cute when you’re feisty, Blair.”
A little thrill of excitement rolls up my spine, but I make myself ignore it. I will not catch feelings for him. I will not catch feelings for the man who kidnapped me.
Next thing I know, I’m in the kitchen, and Kylie is handing me a bowl, gesturing toward a pile of vegetables. “You can chop these.”
Chop? I stare down at the vegetables with wide eyes as I pick up the knife carefully. Besides that one fall I thought a bob was a good idea, I’ve never chopped anything in my life.
“You good?” she asks when I just keep standing there, staring down at the vegetables.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Perfect.” I blow out a breath and start my first attempt at cutting up vegetables—ever in my life. I’m slow as shit, I’m certain of that, but I’d prefer to keep the manicure I got last week intact as long as I can. Unless I want a squirrel to do my nails, there’s not exactly a spa right up the street.
The cabin is quiet except for the small sounds of movement and water running and raw meat sizzling when Kylie dumps it into a pan.
And I can’t deny it’s a true contrast to my life in Boston. There’s no marble or chandeliers or staff drifting through hallways.
There are just five people in one singular room—coexisting together.
I can’t remember the last time my mom and dad and Bonnie and I were all in the same room together. The occasional dinner? Sure. But in the middle of the day? Hell no. Even growing up, my dad was always too busy with work, and my mom always had a million and one things on her social calendar to attend. Not to mention all the piano lessons and French lessons and whatever other thing Mom decided to sign Bonnie and me up for that kept us on the go all week long.
And yet I can’t deny that there’s something peaceful about having everyone in the same room together. It feels…calm and cozy. It feels like how things used to be when Nanny Celeste was around.
I push down memories of my childhood and refocus on slicing the vegetables, occasionally using more force than necessary.
But my eyes, they keep flitting toward the living room where Kane is adding blocks of wood to the fire, and his muscular forearms flex beneath his simple black T-shirt with each movement.
Heat flickers low in my stomach at the sight. Stop it, Blair. Stop looking at him.
I focus on the knife again.
This is adaptation. That’s all this is. You’re adjusting to survive.
Of course my body is going to seek the strongest person in the room. It’s biology. It doesn’t mean anything.
“Be careful,” Kane whispers, and I look up to find him standing right beside me. But when I follow his line of sight, I realize the knife is way too close to my fingers.
“Shit,” I mutter and pull my hand back instinctively.
But Kane doesn’t smirk, and he doesn’t make a comment at my expense. Instead, he just steps behind me and wraps his arms around me to readjust my hands’ position on the knife and cutting board.
“There ya go,” he says. “Much safer.”
That steadiness of his body calms my heart to a slow and efficient rhythm.
Goodness, why does this man have such an effect on me?
Rook walks into the kitchen and murmurs something to Kylie under his breath, and she laughs softly. He brushes his thumb across her cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
She doesn’t look controlled.
She doesn’t look owned.
She looks…connected to him. Like he’s her prince and she’s in a fairy tale. Like her entire world revolves around him. And frankly, he looks at her the exact same way.
Was she telling me the truth? Does she know more than I do? I mean, look at her. Look at how happy she looks right now…