Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
The basket digs into my chest the second I hoist it up again with a grunt. I balance it on my knee as I twist around to kick the door shut behind me.
The weight of the heaping basket eases, and I spin around so I can march it into the kitchen.
But I only take two steps before I collide with a very hard, very firm, very present wall.
Okay.
Not what I expected.
Kane grabs the basket as I bounce off his chest with a slight oof.
His other hand flies out to take my elbow, helping steady me.
The next second, he’s releasing me again, his face totally blank as he holds that ridiculous pile of blueberries like it’s fresh laundry.
Show-off. Him and his big stupid arms.
Enormous, Hercules arms.
I try not to notice, but it’s like staring at the sky and pretending the sun isn’t there.
Who else has biceps big enough to threaten popping out of that oversized hoodie, anyway?
And his eyes, holy—
For a hot second, they drill through me.
They’re so effing green.
I didn’t know human eyes could rival the forest, but here we are.
There’s still something familiar about his face, too.
Like I’ve seen it before.
The hard lines, the way he goes from stormy to soft as cotton candy for his kids, the square jaw that looks like it could break the fist of anyone stupid enough to throw a punch.
He’s imposing in the way guys get when they’ve spent too much time working out and posing behind an Instagram filter.
Not that he strikes me as the model type, or even the type to want attention.
I just can’t figure him out and it’s infuriating.
Behind him, the kids zoom upstairs for their homework.
If it was me, I’d be dragging my feet and sulking, but they’re laughing now. Dan takes Sophie’s arm and drags her up faster.
I notice the chunky shoes she’s still wearing in the house while her brother goes around in his socks.
I didn’t pick up on them yesterday. She moves like she’s used to them on her skinny legs.
And I wonder if they’re the reason she shut down earlier.
I look back at Kane, who’s still staring at me. His dark brows draw together and his mouth slashes into a pointed frown.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it,” I say, gesturing to the basket. “Go enjoy your breakfast. Clean up. Whatever.”
He doesn’t let go.
Asshat.
“Dude,” I hiss. “I’ve got it. Back off.”
When he won’t relent and turns his back instead, I roll my eyes and follow him into the kitchen.
As tempting as it is, a scuffle in the hall would be undignified and possibly dangerous with such a heavy basket. I think he knows it, too.
I also think he knows I will fight him on this.
I don’t care if he fed me breakfast.
He sets the basket down on the counter and doesn’t look at me, grabbing a roll of paper towels instead.
“I know your ears work. I told you to let me handle the blueberries,” I bite off. “You know, just like I told you not to fix the railing.”
“You know, you don’t have to do much to this house if you’re selling,” Kane says from the stove, where he’s cleaning up the grease from cooking.
“Apart from how it’s falling down around us, you mean?”
“I can fix it.”
“What, you’re a builder and a plumber and electrician?” I huff loudly.
He shoots me a tired look.
“If there’s anything I can’t do, I’ll let you know. But I might as well stay busy while we’re here and the kids are occupied.”
So he can’t sit still.
Why am I not surprised?
I’m curious, though, and I lean on the counter as I watch him, against my better instincts. The muscles in his back flex deliciously as he scrubs.
Damn him.
“What do you do?”
“Huh?”
“Your job. What do you do besides stomp around, acting all saintly? I know you come by it honestly with the name, but you must work.”
His shoulders stiffen.
“I told you, I’m between jobs right now. All the more reason to keep busy, and there’s a lot I can do around here.”
For a second I just stare at him.
I’m trying to decide if I should be glad I have a free handyman or yell at him for being so mute and walled off.
“But you’ll still need supplies.”
“There are plenty of tools around in the shed. I went poking around when I got up and fixed the railing.” He stops and turns, bracing his hands on the edge of the stove behind him, big and imposing even in this large space. “Look, I can handle the basics. Tell me that railing wasn’t tighter than a drum.”
I can’t. But I glare at him.
“And I overheard you’ve got interested buyers. Where’s the harm in giving you a head start on polishing this place up?”
“You were eavesdropping?”
“Yeah.” His face has no shame. So annoying. “No matter what you decide, the fewer issues here, the better.”