Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
I’m still sitting on the floor, as is Grayson, but both girls are now standing with their books in their hands. “Hey,” I keep my voice soothing, “what’s with the sad faces?”
“Nana left,” Hayden whispers.
“And she didn’t give you the card. That’s what Nana Jackie does so we can take them home.”
It dawns on me that they’re sad they don’t get to keep the books. “Well, guess what?”
Their curious little minds can’t help but ask “What?” at the same time.
“Today, those”—I point to the book in each of their hands—“are gifts.”
“I can pay for them,” Grayson says.
I turn to look at him for the first time, and I can’t read his expression. His green eyes are watching me intently. “I insist,” I tell him. I force my eyes back to his daughters. They don’t need to see me drooling over their dad. “These books are my gift to you.” The words are barely out of my mouth before two little bodies, adorned with smiles that could give the sun a run for its money, lighting up the sky, are wrapping their little arms around me.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” they say in unison, and I have to admit this twin thing is a little freaky.
“You’re welcome. Now, there is one thing you have to do for me,” I tell them.
“What?” Harlow asks.
“You have to read every day. It’s good for your mind.” I tap my temple. “And your soul.” I place my hand over my heart.
“Miss Waken.” Hayden giggles. “We can’t read. We’re this many.” She holds up four fingers.
“Hmm.” I pretend to think of a new plan when this was my plan all along. “Well, I guess you’re just going to have to look at the pictures and make up your own stories.” There is nothing like the imagination of a child, and I know these two little angels putting their minds together could come up with some interesting stories. “How about next week, when Nana Jackie brings you in, you read to me? You can tell me the stories you create?”
“Yes!” they say together, bouncing on the balls of their feet.
Glancing over at Grayson, he has his head slightly tilted, watching the three of us intently. If I’m not mistaken, there is a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He’s even sexier now than he was when I had my crush on him in high school. He’s tall, toned, and tatted, and I realize I’m staring at him. Averting my gaze back to the girls, I block out the way the ink swirls around his arm and his muscles bulge in his T-shirt.
“Girls, we should let Miss Laken get back to work.”
“Okay,” they begrudgingly agree.
After a round of hugs, the girls each take a hand and pull me from the floor—after a few tries, of course, since we have to make a game out of it. Once I’m standing on my own two feet, their little arms wrap around my legs. “Bye, Miss Waken. Thank you for the books.”
“I’ll see you next week, ladies, and you’re welcome,” I say, patting their backs.
“Ready?” Grayson asks. He’s now standing next to us.
The girls release me, and each takes one of his hands, their books in the other. “Thank you.” He nods at me.
“You’re welcome,” I say as they turn and walk away. I follow along slowly behind them. Not so close that I feel like a stalker, but close enough that I can watch him in those worn fitted jeans as he walks away.
When the door closes, I push thoughts of the sexy Grayson Davis and his adorable twin daughters out of my mind and get to work putting away my delivery. I don’t know what it is about him that makes me feel like my sixteen-year-old self again. I had the biggest crush on him in high school, but that was years ago, and we’re both adults now. He’s a single father. He shouldn’t be making me feel all warm and gooey inside from just being in his presence.
I think Justine is right. I do need to get out more. I make a mental note to call her. It’s definitely time for a girls’ night.
Chapter 2
Grayson
I’m staring at the alarm clock, watching as time slowly ticks by, and willing my mind to turn off so I can go to sleep. It was a hard shift today at work—an accident about a mile out of town that ended in air-carrying the driver.
I got word about an hour ago that the kid, just seventeen years old, is going to be okay. He’s one of the lucky ones. I love my job. I love helping people. That’s what drove me to become a firefighter. A year ago, I was promoted to captain, which is almost unheard of at my age. Thoughts of what drove me to work harder filters through my mind, and I shut it down. I don’t need to go there. Not tonight.