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)
"I'll have the baked salmon, rice, and broccoli. You should give Dad the chicken fingers." She laughs.
"I think he needs a bit more food than that, but I have enough for all of us to have some of everything. I don't meet too many kids who like salmon."
"I'm not a kid. I'm almost a teenager. I'll be ten next month."
"Wow, double digits, huh? You're almost as old as me."
She laughs and shakes her head in disbelief. We continue to put the dinner together as Dallas comes downstairs. I spot him just watching us silently. An indiscernible expression rides his face, but there's a softness in his eyes that wasn't there earlier.
He doesn't linger too long as he comes to help us set the food up in the living room. The fireplace is roaring, toasty with heat, even though the flames are fake. The movie is playing, and we're sitting around the coffee table like this is our typical family dinner routine. It's crazy how comfortable and effortless this feels. I look at them both and wonder if there's anyone in Cincinnati who takes care of them.
2
DALLAS
The sight of Frankie growing close to this beautiful stranger warms my heart. I don't want to be smitten, but these two are bound to have me wrapped around their fingers. Damn. Listen to me.
I sigh, shaking my head because dating is the last thing that should be on my mind.
What was supposed to be a fun father-daughter camping trip turned into a disaster. But I have to say that running into Mariah at her ice cream shop was the best thing I could have imagined.
Dinner is delicious, and the ice cream is even better. We're about to put on another movie for Frankie, but it's clear that she can't keep her eyes open much longer.
"She's had a long day," Rye whispers to me as she strokes my daughter's hair.
I know it's not intentional, but as Frankie leans against Rye, I can sense the comfort and safety my daughter feels with this woman. Once Rye started moving her fingers through Frankie's dark brown strands, Frankie dozed off.
I don't know what these feelings surging through me mean. I don't want my heart putting Frankie on the line because I see the potential of who this random stranger could become for the both of us. I resign myself to keeping my distance from the generous woman who owns an ice cream shop.
Memories of the last time I carried Frankie to bed are fleeting. She might have been five or six, and she's definitely heavier than I remember. But the moment I put her in bed, she smiles and turns over. Her breathing is soft, and watching her sleep eases my nerves.
The faintest whisper reaches me as I leave the bedroom. "Night, Dad."
"Good night, Frankie," I tell her softly and head back downstairs. Rye's washing dishes, drawing me close, and I stop myself just as she tosses a glance over her shoulder.
"Is she all tucked in?" she asks, using a towel to dry the wet dishes and place them back into the cabinets. "You can crash in the other bedroom. The sofa in the office pulls out into a bed. I can sleep in there."
"No." My voice is low and gruff as I say, "I'll take the sofa bed, and you take the spare bedroom. You've done more than enough for me and Frankie. I won't let you sleep on a couch on top of that."
Something about the mere mention of what Rye should or shouldn't be sleeping on top of drags my mind down to the gutter. I'd much rather her sleep on top of me, but that's just my little head speaking for the bigger one—the bigger one that knows better. My lack of a love life is no reason to let my lewd imagination take over.
"Sleeping on that couch won't be the hardest thing I've ever slept on," she replies with a grin that sends tingles down my spine.
Tipping my head to the side, I can't stop myself from asking her, "What's the hardest thing you've ever—"
Before I can get my question out, the storm outside surges. A crash of lightning and an explosion of thunder rattles the walls. My head shifts and my ears perk as I listen for the sounds of Frankie waking up. Thankfully, there's nothing but silence until a thud from outside rattles the two of us.
"I'll go take a look." I move toward my coat hanging by the front door. On the floor right under it is the gun case I bring while traveling. I never leave home without it. However, I don't remember bringing it inside.
I'm certain the confusion on my face propels her to speak as Rye says, "I brought it in. Doesn't make sense to leave that in the car. It won't be of much use to anyone out there."