Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“Herb and Jeanette? They’re pretty awesome. I grew up with their daughter Kaitlyn,” he says, his blue eyes returning to mine.
“I tried to give him some money for his time, but he refused.”
Colton chuckles. “That sounds like Herb. I’m glad he helped you get it all in here.”
I shrug and wait him out, wondering why he dropped by tonight. I’m saved from asking when Milo lets out a holler for attention. “Oh, that’s right. Milo’s hungry. He had a big day this afternoon, didn’t you, Milo?” he asks, holding his son up and giving him a small bounce. “Little man here had his four-month doctor’s appointment, and while we had to get two shots, his doctor agreed that it’s time to start him on baby food. We’re starting with green beans tonight, aren’t we, buddy?” His blue eyes meet mine once more. “He’s very excited about this.”
I laugh as I watch Milo try to shove his entire fist in his mouth, drool hanging from his chin and dripping on his shirt. “His mouth is already watering at the thought.”
Colton glances down and wipes away the drool. “Yeah, I should probably start putting a bib on him during the day. He’s like a faucet with this drool.”
“He’s probably going to start teething soon,” I tell him.
Colton shakes his head. “Doesn’t seem possible yet. It feels like yesterday I was told I was a father to an infant.” Again, the room falls silent. “So anyway, the reason I stopped by was I thought you’d like to witness the amazing feat of feeding Milo yummy green beans for the first time. It’s sure to be a photo-worthy affair,” he says with a burst of pride. “I picked up some fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy from the deli and thought you’d like to join me.”
“Oh,” I say, glancing over at my now-cold Lean Cuisine. Honestly, it doesn’t really look as appetizing as the fried chicken he’s proposing, but my budget is pretty tight, and I don’t want to waste a meal just because I’m offered something that sounds better.
He looks over at my food, and as if he can read my mind, he suggests, “You could probably throw that in the fridge and eat it tomorrow.” When I still don’t reply, he adds, “Or not. You probably already have plans tonight.”
He’s giving me an out, but I instantly realize I don’t want it. I’d actually much rather eat chicken and watch Milo try to eat green beans for the first time, than to be here alone, reading, and eating my Lean Cuisine.
That’s probably the exact reason I should decline his offer, but I don’t. I can’t. “Umm, okay. Let me wrap this up and put it in the fridge.”
His smile could melt the glaciers in Alaska—it’s that hot. “Great! I’ll just get Milo ready in his high chair. Come over when you’re ready,” he says, heading for the door. “Oh, Hollis? Those mountain paintings are amazing. They make me want to move to some small mountainside town.”
I smile broadly. “Thanks. I thought so too.”
Colton nods. “Don’t worry about knocking. Just come in when you’re ready,” he says, and then he’s gone.
I wrap up my forgotten meal and try not to dissect the excitement I feel at heading over to Colton’s. I’ve done so well at avoiding him—forty-eight hours strong—and suddenly, I’m throwing all my hard work out the window the moment he offers me chicken. Going over there is just going to make it more difficult to separate the attraction I feel toward him and the fact he’s my landlord and shouldn’t be ogled over. Yet, here I am, heading over to ogle.
I’m a mess.
But every reason to stay away doesn’t stop me from opening the door and stepping into his living space. As soon as I do, a smile stretches wide across my face. Milo is seated in his high chair, a large bib wrapped around his neck. The little boy is banging his hand on the tray as if telling his dad to hurry up.
“Grab a plate,” Colton says without turning my way. He walks carefully to the table and takes a seat beside his son. Milo reaches for what his dad has in his hands, but isn’t able to reach it. He goes ahead and lets his dad know exactly what he thinks about that and lets out a screech. “Settle down, little man.”
I watch as Colton carefully scoops a tiny bite of the green goop from the container and moves it to his son’s mouth. Milo opens wide and closes it on the spoon. When Colton pulls it back, I’m holding my breath to see what the little boy will do. He chews and chews, spitting out just as much as was put in his mouth, and opens his mouth for more. When it doesn’t happen fast enough for his liking, Milo hollers loud.