Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
With a firm nod, she marched downstairs to gather everything they would need. Ingredients. Bowls. Measuring cups. Aprons. She selected a darling retro red polka-dotted apron with white ruffles for herself and tied the strings, telling Rolex, “Mommy loves you, but you aren’t allowed to help with this, only watch.”
The furry gift to humanity hopped in his centerpiece bowl atop the dining room table.
Conrad joined them—on time—looking rumpled and adorable with messy hair, hooded eyes and a black T-shirt, the cuffs stretched around his biceps. What the man did for gray sweatpants should be criminal. She was already perspiring, and the oven hadn’t even started pre-heating yet.
Half asleep, he said, “Let me take Cheddar outside before we start.”
He led the darling canine past her, padding to the back yard. Cheddar’s little orange and white tush swished back and forth as he waddled, and Jane smiled. Animals made everything better.
The two returned a few minutes later. Conrad fed his fur-son, then approached Jane, smelling of fresh air and clean, cotton sheets.
“Reporting for duty, sir,” he said, saluting her.
Grinning, she tied a black apron with frilly purple pockets around his waist, then stepped back to admire him. Hmm, the lavender embroidered Good Lookin’ is Cookin’ might be a little too on point, but how perfect was he?
Wait. Hold up. Better stop that runaway train in its tracks. There would be no admiring him today of all days.
“Why did we need to be up so early to make a pumpkin pie?” he asked, scrubbing a hand down the back of his neck and eyeing the staircase as if thinking of returning to bed. “I’ll grab a tub of whipped cream from the store and we’re more than halfway done.”
She raised a brow at him. “I hope you’re not suggesting a lone pie, great though it is, will suffice? It’s like you don’t even know me? And did the idea of store bought whipped cream come out of your filthy mouth? In the presence of a lady no less? We will be whipping the cream ourselves and–”
Conrad’s shoulders began to shake with laughter, and she knew she’d been had. Riling her up was payback for waking him so early. The man might know her better than anyone. He–oh, no, no, no. Not this again.
Jane whirled around to grab her recipe cards and distract herself from Mr. Good Lookin’ and his teasing. “In addition to the pumpkin pie and homemade whipped cream, we’re baking sticky toffee cake, butter cake, a mincemeat pie, as well as pecan, apple, and custard respectively. We’ll also be making pumpkin cream cheese cookies and turkey-shaped brownies for Fiona’s grandkids.”
A delightfully dazed expression spread over his face. “I thought they weren’t coming.”
“They aren’t. We’re sending the treats to them,” she informed him.
He tapped the end of her nose. “I think someone just wants pumpkin cream cheese cookies and turkey shaped brownies for herself.”
Jane shrugged. “I mean, if a few end up on our Thanksgiving Day table, that can’t be helped.” And oh, wow, was this going to be a totally different holiday than usual.
Before, Jane had celebrated with Fiona, her two children and their families. This time, Fiona and kin would be accompanying the sheriff to his daughter’s, and Jane would be playing hostess to six adults. Conrad. Beau. Trick. Holden. Isaac. And Wyatt. Men with amazing appetites.
Things would be different for Conrad, too. He’d once admitted he had always preferred working on holidays.
“Oh, I forgot to mention,” he said. “Wyatt asked if he could bring a date. Also, of all the desserts, I think the sticky toffee will be my favorite. I think we should start with that.”
Okay, so, Jane would be playing host to seven adults. “Please tell Wyatt there’s plenty of room. And good to know about your favorite. We’ll bake that last, so you have something to work toward.”
He snorted. “When did you become so cruel, sweetheart?”
Her stomach flipped over. Sweetheart again and with such a warm and rough tone. His new lady love must, must, must be able to draw out this elusive teasing nature of his. And also coax him to smile. And spark his laughter.
“Um. I don’t think you should call me that anymore.” His future girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate it.
He didn’t miss a beat. “Ten-four, pancake.”
Jane blinked at him. “Excuse me? Did you just call me pancake?”
“I did. Because it’s your new nickname.”
Gah! Did he have to be so danged cute? Trembling, she got real busy real fast and pointed to a recipe. “We’ll start with the butter cake. I’ll do dry, you do wet.”
He got busy mixing eggs and milk. “You mentioned wanting to have a chat?”
“That’s right.” She dumped flour, sugar and salt together. A cloud of white puffed up from the bowl. Maybe she’d used a little too much force. She waved off the tell-tale proof of her agitation and said, “I have questions, you have answers.” Here goes. “What do you look for in a girlfriend? Like, what are your top three must haves?”