Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Or frozen burritos,” Harper reminded him.
Kola retched, which made me laugh again.
Sam groaned loudly and reached over and passed Kola the room-service menu. I walked around the side of the bed and knelt down beside my husband. He turned his head to look at me, and I saw then how exhausted he was.
“Baby,” I murmured, stroking my hand through his hair, “I swear to throw them all out of the room tomorrow. We’ll meet here in the room for lunch.”
“I want a vacation with just you very soon. Swear.”
“Oh, I swear,” I promised, leaning in to kiss his cheek. The beautiful smile I got, along with the rumble of happiness, made me grin. “I love you very much.”
“I know,” he sighed.
He didn’t have to say it back. I knew I was his favorite.
We put the three boys in our bed, and Sam and I took the other queen in Hannah’s room. It was the only arrangement that worked, and being in a separate room from Jake was good for Hannah since she was never speaking to him for the rest of her life.
Until later, of course, when he walked over, collapsed down beside her in bed, and right before he got an elbow in the ribs, confessed to using a washcloth, not her loofah, and whined to her about the sunburn on his face. She was in heaven, as she got to lecture him about the moisturizer, with SPF, that she just got him that he’d left at home. Once he let her put all her products on him, she was happy. Sam was dead to the world by then, under the covers in his sleep shorts and an old T-shirt that had seen better days. Not wanting to jostle him later, once everyone was asleep, even the boys—apparently eating badly and not showering was tiring—I went to sleep in the wingback chair with the comfy ottoman for my feet.
I was awoken in the wee small hours of the morning by my hubby, who wanted me in bed. I will admit, having his big hard, warm body spooned around me, the anchoring arm clutching me tight, I slept like a rock. It was a nice trip.
That’s it, everyone. Have a lovely rest of April and I will talk to you in May!
MAY 2022
Hello, all, welcome to He Said, he said, May 2022. You know, sometimes I forget that my husband is not an adult. The other day as I was preparing to make spaghetti, I texted him.
Hey, we’re out of sausage. Can you grab some?
Seconds later I got back: I’ve got a sausage you can grab.
When I called him, he was still cackling. “Really?” I asked him.
“What do you expect?” he teased me.
I sighed deeply, glad that he couldn’t see that I was smiling.
“I know you’re smiling.”
“Oh?”
“Yessir,” he rumbled back, and his voice was deep and sexy and rolled right through me, as it had been doing since I was twenty-two years old.
“You think I just puddle into goo when you flirt with me?”
His filthy chuckle then. “Pretty much.”
“I’ll have you know I’m impervious to your charms.”
“You lie,” he accused me. “And we’ll be able to test it, since I’m about five minutes away.”
I will tell you that I am not now, nor will ever be, in any way, impervious to my husband’s charms. I am putty in his hands, and I hope that never changes.
I had Kola stop and get the sausage instead, which, as usual, was a mistake. My son, my dear sweet son, who I love so very much, cannot be counted on to shop. With others, absolutely, no question. Alone? No. He always came home with double the things he went for. I blamed it on him being a Libra. It was the scales, the up and down. He could always see the pros and cons of everything.
“Okay,” he explained as he took each package of sausage he’d bought out of the bag one at a time. “This one is Cajun spice,” he said, pointing. “This one has a hint of rosemary and anise in it that the butcher said might really complement your sauce.”
I glanced at Sam, who turned away so he wouldn’t laugh.
“Now this one has some heat, but it’s a bit of a mesquite flavor, which I think will be great when Dad barbecues on Saturday, if it doesn’t pour.”
Because hurrying him would show a lack of appreciation of his efforts, I stood and went through them all until he finally arrived at the spicy Italian sausage I was waiting for. There were only nine, so it wasn’t that bad, and really, the fact that my son showed such concern in all areas was a constant source of pride for me.
“Ooooh,” Hannah gushed when she came into the room with Jake. “Is that the anise-and-rosemary sausage? I bet that would be good in the sauce.”