Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Instead, I studied my coffee as if it were the most interesting thing in the world while trying to calm both my libido and my stomach.
A plate was placed softly in front of me.
Bacon, crispy. Eggs, fried. Buttered toast.
My mouth watered at the smell of grease and fat.
I looked up at Beau, swallowing. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”
“It’ll make you feel better.” His azure eyes searched my face. “So yes, I did.”
We stayed like that, staring at each other. My breathing shallowed, and my heart stuttered.
“I need you feeling better for Clara.” Beau cleared his throat. “I’ll be here this morning, so you can take it easy. But this afternoon, I’ll be gone.” He nodded to the plate. “So eat.”
I swallowed uncomfortably, my throat feeling like it was lined with thorns. He wanted me feeling better so I could do my job. That was it. Nothing else.
And I was stupid for believing it could’ve been anything else. Stupid for hoping.
What else could I do?
I ate.
nine
HANNAH
Though there was a faint throb between my eyes, I felt good. Physically, at least. The breakfast Beau made me, coupled with coffee and copious amounts of water, staved off the worst of my hangover symptoms.
My mood, though, was in the gutter. Everything felt dark and hopeless, a cloud of sadness hanging over me. I couldn’t quite pinpoint the source of it because my whole life was a mess. All I knew for certain was that I hadn’t felt quite so heavy or disheartened before the hangover.
Which was why Clara and I were making chocolate brownies. Baking tended to help ease sadness, especially chocolate.
Clara loved to bake, and when she was happy, I was happy. Or at least I became better at pretending I was.
The interactions earlier with Beau shadowed the day for me. His kindness was confusing. Infuriating. How I managed to be angry when Beau was being half decent was borderline unhinged. But that’s what I felt—borderline unhinged. Like the ground was constantly shifting beneath my feet. I was at the mercy of Beau’s moods. I did not like it.
The soft slam of the front door pulled me from my thoughts.
“Daddy’s home!” Clara declared from her spot on the counter as she mixed brownie batter.
She didn’t need to declare it since Beau’s presence was announced by the tightening of my throat, the hair standing up on my arms, and the small piece of excitement I felt in my nether regions for reasons unknown.
“Bug,” he greeted, warmth seeping from the single word.
He beamed at Clara, taking her off the counter and into his arms before swinging her around and pressing kisses all over her face.
Clara’s giggles chased away the worst of the dread I felt at his appearance. And unfortunately, the tingles in my nether regions increased while watching him interact with his daughter.
Was it terribly weird and bordering on illegal to find Beau being a father sexy?
“You smell like chocolate,” he remarked, placing Clara back on the counter.
“We’re making brownies.” She resumed mixing the last of the ingredients together as I prepared the pan.
Beau’s lips pressed together. “I can see that.”
“Every single ingredient is on your approved list,” I told him quickly, ready for his wrath. “Not a processed item to be found, and I used coconut sugar, even if it goes against basic laws of nature.” I was babbling because I was nervous. Either I was a shy, mute mess around Beau or … this. I didn’t know which was worse.
Beau contemplated me. More accurately, he stared at the corner of my mouth.
I must’ve had chocolate on my face. Embarrassing. “Even with the lack of bad—therefore, good—ingredients, it’s still a requirement of baking to lick the spoon so I—”
I was talking while raising my hand up to wipe my mouth when Beau took my breath away. Or perhaps I crossed into some coconut sugar-induced hallucination.
He leaned forward, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth where a smear of brownie batter must’ve been glaring at him.
The contact was unexpected and intimate.
He did it because he was a father, and it was a reflex to wipe chocolate mouths.
That was what I told myself until he lifted his thumb to his mouth, sucking off the chocolate while maintaining eye contact with me.
The moment happened in slow motion, a hushed rumble in my ears as I tried to fathom what just happened.
Clara continued speaking, as if her father didn’t just rip a hole in the time-space continuum.
“Our plan for the day is brownies then movies on the couch!” Clara proclaimed with glee.
“That sounds like the perfect plan, Bug,” Beau murmured, tearing his eyes from me to push hair from his daughter’s face.
The gesture itself was casual, normal for Beau. On the surface, he seemed relaxed.
Maybe what he just did was no big deal to him.