Runaway Love (Cherry Tree Harbor #1) Read Online Melanie Harlow

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Erotic, Forbidden Tags Authors: Series: Cherry Tree Harbor Series by Melanie Harlow
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Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
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“Tap dance, huh?” I said.

“Yes. Roni said we can make our own tap shoes!” Adelaide said excitedly.

I looked at Veronica. “You can?”

“Sure.” She grinned and tucked one of those curls behind her ear. “We just need some sneakers, packing tape, and spare change.”

“I think we can manage that,” I said, impressed by her ingenuity.

“I thought it might be a fun project since it’s supposed to rain all day again tomorrow.” She laughed and struck a pose with jazz hands. “Then we can put on a show for you tomorrow night!”

“Yay!” The twins clapped their hands and jumped up and down.

“Sounds like fun. Okay, you guys, head upstairs.” I nudged them both out of the kitchen, and they went dancing toward the front of the house. Then I turned toward Veronica. “You do know you have tomorrow off, right?”

She loaded a dinner plate in the dishwasher. “I know.”

“And that you had tonight off as well? You don’t need to clean up the kitchen.”

“I don’t mind.” She shut the dishwasher door and turned around, leaning back against the sink with her palms draped over the edge. “And it’s not like I have anything better to do tonight. Just laundry.”

“As long as you know I don’t expect you to work on your days off.”

“I know.” Her blue eyes stayed on mine for a moment, then drifted over my T-shirt, which was coated in sawdust and damp with rain and sweat. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes traveled lower, to the crotch of my jeans. I thought about what Xander said—she looks at you—and the back of my neck grew warm.

I glanced at the fridge and thought about a dirty chore chart for her and everything I’d put on it. Give me a handjob. Sit on my face. Suck my dick.

My cock twitched.

I was a bad person.

“Well, goodnight,” I said, desperate to exit the room and her line of sight.

“Night,” she said softly as I left the room.

Halfway up the steps, I paused and closed my eyes, my hand gripping the banister, my pulse beating a little too fast.

What was the bet I’d made with Xander? Two weeks?

I had a sinking feeling I might lose.

After putting the kids to bed, I went out to the garage to put away the tools I’d left out—I never left it messy at night. The rain had stopped again, but it was hot and humid, and I was anxious to get everything in order and grab a cold shower.

I needed one. A cold beer sounded good too.

The lights in the apartment above the garage were off, and I assumed Veronica had already gone to bed, so it surprised me when I heard the back door to the house close. I looked up and saw her walking toward the garage, carrying a laundry basket on one hip. She gave me a wave.

I lifted a hand, and before I could stop myself, I held up the beer I’d just opened. “Want one?”

She hesitated, glancing back at the house.

“It’s okay. They’re fine. I actually still have the baby monitor in here for nights when I want to work late.”

“Oh. Okay, then.” She entered the garage and I glanced at her bare feet.

“You should probably put shoes on though. I haven’t swept in a few days, and I don’t want you to get a splinter or step on a nail or anything.”

“My shoes are upstairs.” She looked at the laundry basket. “I was just going up to fold my laundry.”

“You can fold down here if you want.” I gestured toward a work table. “I can put a clean drop cloth on this.”

“Oh. Okay.” She set her laundry basket on the floor. “Then I’ll be right back.”

I watched her leave the garage on her tiptoes, being careful where she stepped, and heard her going up the stairs. After she was gone, I threw a clean cloth over the work table, then placed her laundry basket on top of it. I couldn’t resist peering into the jumble of clothing—on top were her whites and I saw bits of lace and satin that made my blood rush faster.

When I heard her feet on the stairs again, I backed away so I wouldn’t be caught looking at her panties like a creeper. I went over to the fridge and grabbed her a beer.

She appeared in a pair of flip flops. “Safe to enter?”

“Safe to enter.” I handed her the bottle. “Here you go.”

She clinked hers to mine. “Cheers.”

I watched her bring the bottle to her lips and saw her throat work as she swallowed. Damn, it was hot in here.

“Thank you,” she said, noticing the cloth over the table where I’d placed her laundry basket. She took another sip, set her beer down, and began to pull items out and fold them. “So did you get a lot done today?”


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