Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
But all that had changed when I'd become a mom.
If I thought I had worked hard before, I had no idea. Especially with the twins. There were no more issues with sleep since it was so rare that I could get any that when the opportunity presented itself, I passed out. Right where I was. Not moving so much as an inch until crying woke me up.
And I'd been lucky. There were so many hands to help. If not for them, we likely never would have continued on Roderick's mission to have a litter because those first few months would have been enough to prevent us from even discussing it.
We were pretty set with four, though.
We'd never say never, but three little boys sounded like handful enough. And our little girl was no less troublesome either. She'd be lucky, though. She'd grow up knowing she had three brothers who would always have her back, always protect her. And that, yeah, that thought was enough to make my eyes well up a bit.
"Are you nervous?" Grace asked as she reached for the door.
"Of the gun? Eh," I said as we moved into the shop to fine Paine and his protege waiting for us. "If I could stay conscious while Cam dug a bullet out of my shoulder, I think I can handle an itty bitty baby needle."
"I'd like to say that's not something you hear everyday," Paine said with a smile as I dropped down into his chair. "But this is Navesink Bank."
"Are you nervous?" I asked as she raised her sleeve to have her upper arm cleaned and shaved just like what was happening to my thigh where I had a small stab wound.
"If I could tolerate getting the scars, mija, I can handle getting them covered."
"Most people find it more irritating than painful," Paine informed us, shrugging as he loaded up the inks to use.
A few hours later, we had plastic wrap on our bodies, covering up our new tattoos. Grace was beaming, loving her flowers - five in all, each the favorite of each of her daughters, and then one sun for Roderick - the light that all of them leaned toward.
Sweet.
So sweet.
She'd have to go back for more details eventually, but she had done all she could for the day.
"I understand why all those boys in the MC are covered in tattoos. That could be addictive. Text me after you show Roderick, mija," she demanded, giving me a big hug before moving off to her car, practically floating.
I went home, relieving Ana of her duties, pulling off the plastic, changing into something that would cover my leg without rubbing too much at the healing tattoo.
And then I waited for my husband to come home, smiling a little at the sound of the chickens clucking as they walked around the yard eating all the bugs.
It was nearly dark when I heard everyone shuffling in, my slightly sandy kids all passed out in the arms of their father and aunts.
There was the part of me that wanted to bathe them, get the sand and salt off them. The other part of me, the wiser, experienced mother part, knew that you did not wake a sleeping child. It didn't matter if they fell asleep in a way you thought might cause a crick or with their jeans on or with elastic bands in their hair. You left them the hell alone. Or you would be up all night with them.
So I resigned myself to a morning of baths and washing sheets as the kids were each dropped into their beds, beat from a long day in the sun and water.
I thanked Mia and Zoe as they made their way out, feet dragging a bit, clearly beat themselves. Kids would do that to you.
Roderick, however, was beaming.
He always was when he came back from the beach, especially with the kids, wanting to give them the childhood he should have had.
"So," he said after his shower, coming out in low slung pajama pants that were as distracting now as they had been many years before in that hotel room. "Where did you go today?"
"Your mom and I had a mission we had cooked up when I first met her that we needed to complete."
Roderick's head cocked to the side as he sat down on the foot of the bed. "Really? What kind of mission?"
"To turn something ugly, a bad memory, into a good memory."
"You got a tattoo, didn't you?" he asked, knowing me too well, his smile warm. He'd gotten one when we'd been married. Then one for each of the children's births. He understood the impulse to put good times on your skin.
My smile was warm as I slowly started inching up my maxi skirt inch by inch, loving the way his eyes still got heated as he watched my skin get exposed.