Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Of course, afterward, my dress shirt was completely and totally toast, along with my pants. I would have preferred to make a better impression for a sleepover at Eric’s, but like everything else, my soggy state was out of my control. As I unloaded the kibble and my change of clothing, Eric arrived home.
“Hey. Sorry if I kept you waiting.” He handed me two towels from the back of his SUV like he’d had them there for exactly this reason.
“No worries.” I toweled off the dogs as best I could. “Needed to wash the stinky boys before letting them in your house.”
“Now you’re the one who needs a wash.” Smiling, Eric ushered me and both dogs into the house. As I remembered from my brief visit the week prior, his kitchen was large and welcoming, with white cabinetry, a large island, and a farmhouse-style sink. Eric took the kibble bag from me and set it on a table in the breakfast nook. “How does a hot shower sound?”
“Like a miracle.” I started to exhale, only to tense again as the dogs explored Eric’s pristine white kitchen. “I can’t leave Ben and Jerry though. They can be a handful until they settle. Most of the time, they’re lazy potatoes, but tonight was a bit outside the ordinary.”
“For you as well.” Eric headed for a hallway off the kitchen. He looked freshly showered himself with damp hair, and he’d replaced his uniform with a pair of faded jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt advertising Mount Hope football. “I never had a dog growing up, but Jonas’s dog Oz tolerated me fine. I’m sure your two will like me loads when I set out their food while you shower.”
“Thanks.” It was about all my weary brain could muster.
Eric opened the door to what would be the primary bedroom in most houses, a large, airy room with an attached bath, but the number of boxes in the room gave me pause.
“Yeah, I know.” He gestured at the unmade bed and collection of boxes. “The kids are after me to move back into this room. I’ve spent the last eighteen months or so in a little room in the attic near Maren’s old room. Moving back into the primary makes sense on paper…”
“It’s a process. I get it.” I’d been vaguely aware of Eric since before his husband died, and for all he revved my personal engine, I’d never presume to tell the man how to grieve. “And I don’t want to put you out.”
“You’re not. No one’s slept here since the room was Declan’s over the winter. I got as far as bringing the boxes in.” His mouth twisted as he kicked a box labeled Winter Clothing. “But this will work as a guest room tonight. You hit the shower, and I’ll make up the bed and hang a towel on the bathroom door.”
“Okay.” Still holding the package of flannel pajama pants, I stumbled toward the bathroom before collecting myself enough to add, “Thank you.”
Somehow, I went through the motions of a shower, collected the towel Eric had left on the door as promised, and fumbled my way into the pants. No T-shirt to be found. Eric would have to deal because my dress was not going back on. I made my way back into the kitchen, where my dogs were only too delighted to be dealing with someone who fed them giant portions of kibble in mixing bowls. Eric himself was standing in front of the fridge.
“Hey.” Eric’s eyes went wide from either my lack of shirt or my collection of tats. His pink cheeks said he’d definitely noticed both. “When did you last eat something?”
“Lunch-ish.” As usual, I’d worked through the dinner rush, intending to grab something later, but later had involved the burning of my house, so yeah. Lunch would have to do, but Eric was already pulling ingredients out of his fridge.
“Eggs okay?” he asked as a block of cheese joined the carton of eggs, a package of pre-shredded potatoes, and bacon on the counter.
“You don’t have to feed me.” I had to look away from the cheese so my stomach wouldn’t growl and give me away. “You’re doing more than enough.”
“I’m hungry too.” Eric was quite possibly lying, but I wasn’t about to stop a man who was already grabbing two shiny skillets. “I’m in the mood for eggs. No Wren this week, so we actually have some bacon.”
“Here. At least I can help.” I grabbed the package of potatoes. “You’re thinking hashbrowns?”
“Yep. The required oil says I should think of them less, but as you know, I love anything potato.” As easily as if we’d cooked together a thousand times, he passed me a skillet and a bottle of oil.
“Potatoes and cheese are a pretty unstoppable combination.” Standing beside him at the stove, I preheated the skillet as Eric started bacon frying in the other skillet. “And breakfast for dinner is a late-night classic.”