Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
She slowly lathered her skin with strawberry-scented body wash, forcing her mind to quit over analyzing. It was just sex. Really great sex. Wasn’t like she’d gotten engaged to the man.
Shutting off the faucet, she toweled off and left the bathroom, slipped into a pair of denim shorts and a red tank, and turned her attention to the man on the bed.
He was wide awake, and sporting a very familiar expression on his face.
The same shuttered stare he’d donned yesterday when he’d told her sleeping together wasn’t a good idea.
“I’m going to make some breakfast,” she announced. “Do you like pancakes?”
“I love them,” he said quietly.
“Good. They’ll be ready by the time you come down.”
She headed downstairs, trying to forget about how stiff his shoulders had looked. Maybe he simply wasn’t a morning person. Like her brother—Sam could be a total ass before he had his morning coffee.
When Caleb walked into the kitchen ten minutes later, his hair damp from the shower and his blue eyes alert, she handed him a cup of freshly brewed coffee.
“Thanks.” He took it gratefully, and sipped the hot liquid.
Marley moved back to the stove and flipped a pancake, wishing he wasn’t being so distant. It was easy to pick up on the waves of tension rolling off him. Finally she turned to him and asked, “Everything okay?”
He didn’t speak for a moment, just headed to the kitchen table and lowered his big body onto a chair. A line of indecision creased his forehead, and when he opened his mouth, she got the feeling she wouldn’t like what he said.
“I’m fine. Just tired,” he said with a shrug.
“Well, hopefully these will help.” She turned off the burner, then walked over to the table and placed a plate loaded with pancakes in front of him.
Almost instantly, his expression perked up. She suppressed a grin. Men and their stomachs.
He inhaled the delicious aroma of blueberries and buttermilk, and groaned. “You neglected to mention you could cook like this.”
“I only do breakfast,” she clarified as she sat across the table. “For some reason it’s all I can manage. Lunch and dinner? I’m lucky I haven’t burned down the kitchen yet.”
Caleb chuckled. “Thank God for that.”
She picked up her knife and fork and cut her pancake in half, then fourths, then eighths. She noticed Caleb watching her in amusement as she finally brought a bite-size piece to her lips.
“You cut it up in advance?” he said with a laugh.
She finished chewing and shot him an indignant look. “It’s all ready to eat that way. No wasting time after each bite.”
“You could always cut the next piece while you chew,” he pointed out.
“Don’t be a smart ass. Eat your breakfast.”
She was pleased to see him devour the pancakes. For some reason, she liked making him happy. She got the feeling Caleb wasn’t the kind of man who’d been served fluffy pancakes very often. There was an edge to him, something raw and vulnerable at times.
This morning, that edge seemed sharper than ever. He didn’t say much as he drank his coffee. His dark eyebrows were furrowed, and he looked as if some inner dilemma was tearing him up.
“You okay?” Marley asked again, as she poured a hefty amount of syrup on her second pancake.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” Setting down his cup, Caleb stood. He grabbed his dish and headed for the sink, keeping his back to her as he rinsed his plate under the faucet.
“You don’t have to do that,” Marley called. “I’ll just shove everything into the dishwasher later.”
“I can’t not do the dishes after I eat,” he replied without turning around. “It’s a habit I picked up when I lived in one of my foster homes. My foster mom used to give me a quarter every time I cleaned up after myself.”
“That was sweet of her,” Marley remarked.
“Yeah, I guess it was. She was one of the nicer ones.” She heard the smile in his voice. “She gave me this cracked yellow piggy bank to put the quarters into. I kept every quarter. I thought if I saved them all, I would have enough money to run away and be on my own.” His shoulders tensed. “Not that it mattered. One of my foster brothers stole every last penny the night before he was transferred to another home.”
Her heart melted in her chest, sympathy for that lost little boy tightening her stomach. “Caleb…I’m sorry.”
She pushed away her plate and got up, walking over to him with purposeful strides. His back stiffened at her approach. She knew he probably felt uncomfortable for revealing what was obviously a painful memory. He’d looked and sounded the same way last night, when he’d told her about his mother’s death.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to depress you,” he remarked.
She rested her hand on his arm and stroked the curve of his bicep. “It’s okay to talk about things that hurt you,” she said. “I do it all the time.”