Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Just then, Leni walks in the garage door and my heart does that ridiculous little flip it always does when I see my wife. She’s got her hair tied back but with a few loose strands bouncing around her face and her work bag thrown over her shoulder. “Hey, what’s going on?” she asks, glancing between me and Nora before dropping her bag on the barstool.
“I just struck a deal with our future lawyer here,” I say, nodding toward Nora, who’s now rummaging through her crayon box for the perfect shade of pink. “Ice cream for dessert if she eats all her dinner.”
Leni raises an amused eyebrow, walking over to wrap her arms around my waist. “You did a great job.”
“Thank you.” I lean over and kiss her soft lips while Nora gives her teddy bears instructions on how to draw the perfect sun.
I see the fatigue etched on my wife’s face as I lead her over to the sofa. “So, how was your day at work?” I ask, knowing full well she’s been juggling a lot lately between massage therapy and this pregnancy. I kneel down at her feet and take off her tennis shoes. Sitting back on my heels, I slowly rub each of her slightly swollen feet.
“It was good, but I’m absolutely wiped,” she replies with a sigh, stretching out her legs in an attempt to get comfortable.
“Is this little guy causing you trouble?” I ask. As I run my hand over her rounded stomach, the baby kicks hard against my touch.
Leni laughs, an easy sound that warms my chest. “You have no idea. It’s not even that your son’s misbehaving. I just can’t seem to find a comfortable way to sit or stand. No matter what I do, something aches.”
I lean in to whisper next to her ear, “After we get the little miss down for the night, I’ll give you a whole-body massage and see if that helps.”
She turns her head toward me, a teasing smile slowly forming, and the heat in her gaze makes my gut tighten. “Now that’s a great idea,” she says, her voice playful yet sultry. “Then I can have my dessert, too.”
“I love the way you think, Mrs. Hart.” I lean in close, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo mixed with a hint of something that’s uniquely her. “I love you,” I murmur against her lips. “I’m the luckiest bastard on the planet to call you my wife.”
Her expression softens, the initial spark of surprise in her eyes melting into something deeper and more genuine. “I love you, too,” she says, and those words hit me like a blow to the chest as she snuggles against my side. “And we’re both lucky.”