Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I stand from the table and casually follow her through the living room, hanging back a bit when she opens the door.
Foster is who I see first because he’s so tall. As always, I’m taken by how handsome he is and I love that he didn’t shave this morning. I shamelessly told him last night that I liked the feel of it between my legs more than the clean-shaven face and his expression was so predatory, I almost went up in flames from that look alone.
Everything about him pushes all my buttons. He’s in a well-fitted pair of dark blue jeans, slightly faded at the knees, and a long-sleeve T-shirt in a deep charcoal that hugs his torso enough to show the muscle underneath. The sleeves are casually rolled up to mid forearm and damn, does he have amazing arms. His Apple Watch, always on his wrist, glints in the late-afternoon sun hitting the porch.
Bowie Jane stands at his side, her long hair up in a high ponytail. She’s got on a bright, patterned, long-sleeved top we bought on a quick shopping trip last week with a zip-up fleece vest in a vibrant turquoise, which is her favorite color. So far, all attempts to talk Foster into painting her walls that color have been met with resistance, but she’ll keep working on him. Slung over her shoulder is a red sequined Minnie Mouse backpack she got on a trip to Disney a few years ago. It’s frayed and some of the sparkles have fallen off, but she loves that thing. Inside I can guarantee she has a sketch pad and lip gloss, the two things she never leaves home without.
“Come in, come in,” my mom gushes as she scoots back.
Bowie Jane and Foster step over the threshold, his hand on her shoulder. His eyes meet mine and with hardly a twitch to his facial muscles, we share a connection.
A clear message. Hi again… I missed you today.
“You must be Bowie Jane,” my mom coos as she bends at the waist. “I’m so excited to meet you. Mazzy talks about you all the time.” She straightens, holds her hand out to Foster. “And it’s nice to meet you, Foster.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Archer,” he says with a charming smile.
My mom waves a hand. “Please… call me Megan.”
“Megan’s a pretty name,” Bowie Jane says, her head tipped up at my mom.
“That’s Mrs. Archer to you,” Foster reminds her with a playful tug on her ponytail.
She tips her head back even farther to grin at her dad behind her, then bolts for me. “Mazzy… look what Daddy bought me today.”
She holds out her wrist, and from it dangles a small silver bracelet with a small guitar charm. “I can add others too, but he got me the guitar because I’ve been so good about practicing.”
I examine it critically before smiling at her. “It’s beautiful.”
“Would you like something to drink?” My mom looks at Foster expectantly. “We’d love to have you stay for dinner?”
Foster throws his thumb over his shoulder. “That sounds and smells amazing, but I really have to get to the airport. Thank you for the invite.”
“Maybe some other time?” my mom suggests, and I know she’ll keep pushing in the days or weeks to come to get him over here. My dad and brothers will want to check him out.
“I’d love to,” Foster assures her, then steps forward to pick up Bowie Jane for a big hug. She wraps her arms around him and buries her face into his shoulder. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
“Going to miss you too, Dad.”
She holds on tight an extra moment and then he lets her down. His eyes come to me. “Can I talk to you privately?”
My mom jumps into action, holding her hand out to Bowie Jane. “Want to come help me finish up the dumplings? After dinner, we’re going to carve pumpkins for Halloween and we have cherry pie.”
Bowie Jane takes my mom’s hand without looking back at us and as they head into the kitchen, I hear her ask, “What’s a dumpling?”
Foster and I grin at each other but then I follow him out the front door. As soon as it’s closed and we’re alone on the porch, his hand goes to the back of my neck and he pulls me upward for a quick, lips-only kiss. “Just needed to do that.”
“And we can’t do that in front of Bowie Jane.” I chuckle.
“We can totally do that in front of her,” he scoffs with a sly glimmer in his eye. “I didn’t want to do it in front of your mom though.”
“She’d be okay with that,” I assure him.
“Not the way I really want to kiss you.” The dark undercurrent of desire prickles my skin, but then he adds lightly, “I got you something.”