Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
He huffed in amusement. “My crew is on fritter and donut duty tomorrow, but…you’re right. I’m too uptight about this.”
“I agree.”
“But it’s a big deal.”
“I know. And now, I’m going to sleep. Good night, Dexter.”
“Wait. One more thing.”
“Oh, my God.” I slapped my hand over my eyes and sank under the covers, more charmed than I wanted to admit by his soft laughter.
“I’ll make it quick.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah, yeah. Listen, I might have accidentally spread a rumor that you were interested in flag football, and before you yell at me, it was better than everyone thinking I’m dating your friend.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well…in a nutshell, Layla asked how I knew you, and when I said we had a mutual acquaintance, it spiraled, I panicked, and now…if anyone asks you about flag football, you’ll know why,” he blurted in a rush.
“I’m not playing flag football.”
“Got it. Look—” He paused for a beat. “I think I should know more about you…for the baby’s sake. I know you basically suggested this a couple of weeks ago, and I blew you off. To be fair, you were kind of an asshole, but I think it comes from a good place. You obviously care about Freya’s health and well-being and—”
“And you want to use me as a portal for information.”
“Use is a strong word, but yeah, that’s sort of the gist,” he admitted. “It would be nice to meet for coffee or lunch and just…talk about whatever is going on with Freya and the baby. It’s killing me that you live so close and potentially know pertinent information about my child’s welfare that I don’t.”
“Your child is the size of a blueberry,” I deadpanned. “There’s not much to discuss.”
“Yeah, but it’s a miracle, you know? I can’t wrap my head around it.”
I sighed. “Try to relax…and go to sleep.”
“Sure. Um…so what about flag football?”
“No.”
“I’m hearing maybe,” he singsonged. “It’s a better excuse than always meeting over donuts. Either that, or we pretend we’re dating.”
I rolled my eyes at the ceiling. “Very funny.”
“Hilarious. What do you think?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to be friends with the donut man. Not really. I wanted to stare at him from afar because he was nice to look at. But I also wanted to know my surrogate niece or nephew was well cared for—and if it were possible to be part of their life in some way, that would be nice. But Dexter…
“You’re very pushy and I’m tired,” I grumbled.
Dexter smiled through the cellular connection. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it. “All right. Go to sleep. G’night, Viggo.”
“Good night, Dexter.”
CHAPTER 7
DEXTER
Ifelt bad about bugging Viggo and basically offering a front-row seat to my dysfunctional obsessiveness regarding Freya’s pregnancy. He wasn’t my friend, and living in the same town wasn’t anything more than a coincidence—and not one I should exploit for my peace of mind.
At least not right off the bat.
However, Viggo might prove to be a valuable ally over the next few months, and it was in my best interest to maintain a cordial line of communication without unleashing too much of the real me.
So…donuts.
I rescued the box of assorted goodies from the passenger seat of my Tahoe and glanced back at the long driveway that led to the gray shingled two-story house lined with impeccably tended hedges and spring flowers. The lawn was freshly cut, not a blade of grass out of place, and the porch was furnished with a wooden swing and hanging pots of red geraniums. It was…cute. Not very lumberjack-ish, if you asked me.
I knocked on the door.
No response.
Most people were up by eight o’clock, weren’t they? Shit. It was Saturday. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept until seven, but I kept bakery hours, so what did I know? I supposed I could leave the box on the mat…or the swing. I didn’t have a pen on me. Maybe there was one in my SUV or—
“You.”
I jumped, my pulse skyrocketing from zero to sixty in a nanosecond. “Christ! You scared me. What the fuck?”
Viggo leaned on his doorjamb with his arms crossed, giving effortless badass vibes. “I live here.”
“Right. Um…here, these are for you.” I foisted the box at him. “To thank you for being there for Freya and taking my call last night. I’m sorry I pestered you. And…anyway, thanks.”
“Donuts.”
“It’s an assortment of some new recipes I’ve been trying out. I didn’t know if you were a fruit guy only or a chocolate lover, but there’s a little of everything in there.”
Viggo inclined his head. “This is nice of you, but unnecessary. You’re going to make my thighs big.”
I barked a laugh, and of course I checked out his quads and might have even lingered a beat at his crotch. Not my intention, but he was right there and I was only human. “I think you can handle a few donuts.”