Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
And I couldn’t be happier with where this might end.
Amon Parrish is… mine?
“I gotta go,” I say, rushing towards the back of the store. “I gotta figure out what I’m gonna wear and rustle us up some dessert!”
Lowyn calls out a goodbye, but I’m already gone.
Picking an outfit for a date with a man at your house is not an easy thing when your soon-to-be teenage son is gonna be there too. And Cross is the whole point of this date. I had to remind myself of that. Amon wants to formally meet him. And even though Cross and Amon already know each other, this is a big step.
I need to come off as motherly, but still a woman in her prime. Because I am. I only just barely turned twenty-eight last month.
My go-to summer outfit is cut-off denim shorts and a halter top. Which isn’t very motherly, but it makes sense in my little world. Which means it makes sense to Cross because this is what he’s used to seeing me in when I’m just hanging out at home in the evenings.
So this is what I go with instead of a dress.
Hair, on the other hand, is easy. Because ninety percent of the time I just wear it long with no ponytail or nothing. So that’s how it is tonight as well.
I don’t wear shoes inside, so I’m barefoot.
I decide to do two things to make this night stand apart from any other night at home. The first is paint my toenails. They are the prettiest shade of light green and they match my halter top—which is a crocheted number with full coverage over the breasts and lace that hangs down my belly. That’s the motherly part, I guess. Because while you can still see my sexy little button, it’s a peek-a-boo look at best. The shorts are just your regular bleached-out cut-offs with lots of tantalizing white strings flirtin’ with my upper thighs.
The other thing I do, which I don’t normally do, is put on a little make-up. Just a bit of rouge to brighten up my tanned face, some shimmery eyeshadow that matches my top and toes, and lip gloss. I love me some lip gloss. Shiny lips are still a thing in my world.
I was gonna cheat on dessert and just pick up a cake from April Laver’s bakery, but… this is Amon. And I want to impress him. Besides, I’m a damn good baker. I worked for April and her family when Cross was just a baby because it was an early-early morning kind of job. And while I mostly did dishes, I worked there long enough to end up helping with the donuts while Cross snoozed in my baby wrap.
The point is, I can bake. So I decide on strawberry shortcake. An easy dessert that no one hates. Amon’s bringing dinner, so—
“Mooooom!”
“What?” I turn to my son.
“Stop pacing in front of the window like a crazy person. It’s just Amon.”
He and I already talked about this dinner and he wasn’t impressed. Not wasn’t happy about it, but literally wasn’t impressed. When I told him to go comb his hair and wash his face he scowled and said, “Why do I have to look nice for Amon?”
“Because I like him,” I explained in my soft motherly voice.
“So? Everyone likes Amon. What does that have to do with him bringing us dinner?”
I wanted to roll my eyes here, but instead I mentally patted myself on the back for my son’s cluelessness on the subtleties of dating.
I’m still pacing—though Cross has decided to ignore me and is playing video games on the couch—when Amon’s truck pulls up in front of the house.
I let out a breath, just looking out the window.
And while I’m doing that, Cross gets up and opens the door before I can stop him.
I turn, and there he is. Amon Parrish comes up my walkway holding a brown paper take-out bag from the Revival Café and a bouquet of flowers and I go speechless as I take him in. He’s wearing the same thing he was this morning, minus the leather jacket. So it’s just jeans and a white t-shirt. And he’s got his sunglasses on—mirrors, which I have always been partial to, as they are sexy as hell. Normally that blond hair of Amon’s falls all over like an unruly child on a jungle gym, but this evening it’s been combed back just enough to make him look presentable.
“You better get in here,” Cross says. “She’s been looking out the front window waitin’ on ya for the past half hour.”
My face goes hot, but Amon is smiling when he meets my gaze, walks up the porch steps, and hands me the flowers. “I picked them from the woods behind my house, so they’re nothing special. And Lowyn tied them up with the ribbon.” When he takes his sunglasses off, a few stray bits of hair fall into his eyes and he rakes his fingers through it, trying to tame it back in place.