Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“She’s great.” She fidgets with her napkin. “I was just looking around, you know, like you said.” She glances down at her lap. “Then I ran into her, and I thought maybe she’d be–I don’t know–stuffy, I guess. The dress and the bun and the stern expression, but she was nothing but kind. She’s sort of amazing.” She beams.
“I’m glad you like her.” I drape my arm across the back of her chair. “She’s pretty much an aunt or even a second mother to me. This house can’t run without her.”
“I can tell. I tried to get her to let me help her in the kitchen.”
I snort a laugh. I know exactly how that must’ve gone.
“She shooed me out of there and took me to the sunroom. I spent the afternoon with Sassy and my Kindle. It was–” She smiles again in that way that makes my chest feel warm and tight. “–kind of wonderful. The light came in just right, and your garden is beautiful.”
“I assume your father’s house is just as nice?”
“Oh.” She shrugs. “It’s huge, but it’s sort of … sparse, I guess? He’s into minimalism.” She wrinkles her nose. “And mid-century modern.”
“I take it that’s not your style?”
“Not at all.” She stops fidgeting with her napkin and speaks more quickly, excitement in her voice. “I like color and interesting decor and creative things. My dad would say I like clutter, and I can’t exactly disagree. I want paintings on every wall and bits of sculpture, pottery, and macrame. I want to learn how to make art in every facet of life, you know?”
“But you’re already an artist, aren’t you? You paint, and I saw some canvases in your apartment.”
She nods. “I try, but I’m no master. I want to be, but that would require classes. Tons of different classes all over the city.” She frowns a little.
“I take it your father didn’t want you straying too far from home.”
“Never. It was an act of Congress just to get him to let me move into my apartment, and he still keeps tabs on me. He’s overprotective, but I get it. He’s–”
“Here we are.” Mrs. Palacios hurries in, a platter of roast beef in her mittened hands. “Medium rare. If you like it cooked more, I can–”
“No, it looks so good.” Cadence sits up. “I’m hungry.”
I don’t like the sound of that. She should never be hungry, not on my watch. I make a mental note to ensure she has whatever snacks she wants readily available at the upstairs mini-kitchen, as well as in this one. I don’t want her to feel like she’s lacking anything at all. Ever.
“Allow me.” I take her plate and fork several pieces of the beef onto it, then the roast carrots and potatoes, and finally some of Mrs. Palacios’s brown gravy.
“That’s a mountain.” Cadence looks at me somewhat incredulously.
“You said you were hungry.” I take her napkin, shake it out, then drape it across her lap for her.
“Well, I am, but—oh my God, those rolls look amazing.” Her mouth drops open as Mrs. Palacios places a basket of bread in front of her.
“Enjoy. Eat up. I want you fat and happy.” Mrs. Palacios bustles out.
Cadence picks up her fork, then pauses. “Um, aren’t you going to eat?”
“Yes.” I fork some food onto my plate, watching her from the corner of my eye to make sure she enjoys it.
After her first forkful, she lets out a moan that goes right to my cock. Fire races along my spine at the way her eyes are closed, her lips slightly parted. Fucking hell. I lick my goddamn lips, and not because I’m hungry for the food.
“So. Good.” She chews slowly, then takes another bite.
I’m mesmerized, my manners forgotten, the food a distant memory. All I can focus on is her.
“Um, Vargas?” she says around a bite of buttery roll.
“Mm?” I follow the movement of her throat as she swallows, her pale skin disappearing beneath the neckline of her shirt. I want to follow the shape of her with my tongue.
“You aren’t eating.” Her brows draw together. “And you’re staring.”
I clear my throat and force my eyes to my plate. “Sorry. I haven’t had a visitor in quite some time. That’s all.” I mumble my ridiculous lie of an excuse.
“Hmmm.” She gives me a quick look.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She shrugs and eats another bite of carrots, but she gives me a strange side-eyed glance.
I take a bite of the roast, and it’s just as delicious as Cadence said. But I can’t concentrate on the food, not when my heart is still thumping against my ribs, my cock is straining against my zipper, and I’m wondering how I’m going to stop obsessing over the woman at my side.
12
CADENCE
“So.” I wring my fingers together. “I guess this is goodnight?” I don’t want it to be, but we’re now standing outside the door to my bedroom. I’m sure he has other things he needs to get back to. If he’s anything like my father, it doesn’t matter that it’s nine o'clock at night; he’ll still work until he finishes whatever it is.