Total pages in book: 15
Estimated words: 13377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 67(@200wpm)___ 54(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 67(@200wpm)___ 54(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
"Try this one next, Dad," Frankie insists, pushing a cup covered in a tart strawberry syrup.
She anxiously waits for his reaction. The way his eyes snap shut and mouth puckers send Frankie into a fit of giggles. She can barely get her words out. "That's the one with lemonade pancakes and sour candy swirls."
"Oh, so you set me up?" He grabs Frankie to hug and tickle her. They continue to laugh as I bring over the rest of our samples.
"It was Miss Rye's idea," Frankie blurts out.
"Hey!" I reply, faking shock with a hand clutching my chest. "I would never put out something so sour."
"If it was blue raspberry, it would taste great. Just like those tangy candy straws. What else can we make?" Frankie asks, her eyes darting around.
"I think we need to slow down," Dallas says. "I can see the sugar bouncing off you, Frankie. How about we grab lunch? Are you two hungry?"
"Aww, Dad, but Miss Rye said she knows how to make Thanksgiving ice cream. We can have that for lunch."
I step up to help Dallas sway her, saying, "All of those components take hours to put together, Frankie. I think your dad is right. Let's grab lunch, and we can make a big batch of your favorite sample for you guys to take home. How does that sound?"
Frankie scoffs. "It sounds like you two are in cahoots to get me to eat regular food. You're like those twins working together to trick me."
Dallas and I laugh as I assure her, "Frankie, I promise that's not what's happening. You should eat some regular food because too much sugar and dairy will upset your stomach."
"Fine," she relents. "Let's go have lunch."
It becomes crystal clear that many restaurants won’t open until later. Every place we go to has some sort of sign about damage or no employees being able to come in. I think it's best to lock up my place too. People will be out for essentials, and I can use a day off. Instead of traveling around Mercy, we head back to Cincinnati.
The city is bustling like it never rained furiously for the past three days and nights. I imagine that's why Dallas didn't think the rain would make that much of a difference at the campgrounds. The wet streets don't slow us down as they take me to one of their favorite burger spots.
After lunch, Frankie insists that I see what her room looks like and how big their kitchen is. You know, just in case I spend the night and make ice cream for her one night.
Dallas and I share knowing glances as we let her get away with believing she's persuading me into coming over. I can't stop my imagination from fantasizing about being a permanent part of their family. Frankie's so spunky, inquisitive, and smart. She reminds me of myself at her age. I'm excited to see if this instant connection lasts.
Dallas drives us to one of the tallest buildings in the city, right off the river. Frankie gushes over the pet park, which she can see from the balcony of their condo. The view is amazing from their third-floor abode, which is so spacious and has touches of Frankie and Dallas all over it.
While Dallas said his ex wasn't in their lives, it's all the more evident as I walk around. Family pictures include Dallas and Frankie, with a few popular athletes at various events and on vacation. None of them have a woman that looks remotely attached to them. I feel like an asshole for the relief washing over me, but I want to fill some of those spaces missing in their photos.
"What do you think, Miss Rye?" Frankie asks. "Isn't our kitchen big enough to make ice cream? I know we don't have those big fancy mixers and stoves, but we can do small batches, right?"
"We sure can. I can actually show you one of my favorite ways of making ice cream in a freezer bag."
Frankie's widen. "What?! Do you mean it's been that easy this entire time?"
She slaps herself on the forehead, driving Dallas and me into laughter.
"It's easy, but ice cream made in the kitchen always tastes better to me,” I tell her. This method is good if you just want something quick and fun to munch on."
I notice Dallas standing beside me, his hand hovering over my lower back, as Frankie spins on a high stool across the large island that separates their kitchen and living room. The ceilings are at least ten feet high, giving the home a loft-type feel. But there's a long hallway on either side of the kitchen. From what they've shown me, their rooms are on opposite sides of the condo.
We wouldn't have to be nearly as quiet as we were in the cabin.