Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Whenever Griff’s phone would go off, I’d just sing a song louder than it to drown it out. I think it worked. He’d ordered the man to leave the kitchen and told him not to let anyone else in. He cleared every alert on his phone, not bothering to check it after that. I quickly became a pro at keeping his attention. I wish I could say the same about my cooking.
I’m blaming all the burnt pancakes in the trash on Griff. If he wasn’t so distracting, I wouldn’t have burnt them. At least he didn’t see me almost burn down the kitchen with the dish towel that I accidentally tossed on the side of the stove. In my defense this is my first time in a real kitchen.
“Are you going to take a bite?” I ask. The fork is still a few inches from his mouth. He looks hesitant now.
“Of course.” His brows pull together as he opens his mouth and takes his first bite. “Hmm.” He moans as he chews.
I hear a crunch, which is weird because it’s pancakes. Why would they be crunchy? My question is answered seconds later when Griff puts two fingers in his mouth and pulls out an egg shell.
“Oh.” I grab his plate from him as embarrassment floods me. Why did I offer him my food? I should have ordered out or had Mrs. Putnam whip something up. “I’m sorry.” I try to pull it away, but he stops me, pulling it right back.
I wait for his ridicule to come. With my parents, if you wanted to do something, you’d better do it right or don’t do it at all. I learned quickly it was easier just not to do anything for them.
“I’m eating that.” He cuts another piece.
“Let me try it.”
“No, this is mine.” He devours the rest of it before I can even try to get a taste for myself. Out of the giant thing of batter I made, only two didn’t burn, and I'd given them to Griff.
“You liked it? I’ll make more.” I start to slip off my chair, but he yanks my chair to press against his so I can’t get out. Effectively trapping me. Not that I mind. I enjoy being trapped next to him.
“It was perfect, but it’s my turn to make you something.”
“You’re going to cook?” I ask, surprised. I don’t want him to cook. I want to be the one that cooks for him. It’s the one thing I can do for him.
“No,” He shakes his head. “Mrs. Putnam,” he calls.
“I’m not a dog,” she snaps at him when she enters the kitchen.
“I need you to make Vivian some breakfast. I ate everything she made, and now she needs to rest.”
“I’d love to.” She smiles, her attitude changing immediately. Sometimes their relationship confuses me. She can be snippy with him but so sweet when it comes to me. She doesn’t even care that I almost burnt down her kitchen and the place is wrecked.
“He ate all the pancakes I made,” I say proudly.
“See? I told you he’d love it.” She winks at me.
Each time I burnt another pancake, I’d start to get flustered and almost quit, but Mrs. Putnam reassured me Griff would love it with encouraging whispers into my ear.
“With more practice you’ll be better than those chefs at the overpriced fancy restaurants,” Mrs. Putnam reassures me once again.
“You think?” I never thought about working at a restaurant before.
“She’ll cook here,” Griff grumbles as he pulls at the collar of his shirt.
“Are you feeling okay?” I touch his forehead with the back of my hand. I want to touch him in other places too, but I stop myself, unsure of how he will react if I do.
“I’m fine.” He wraps his hand around my wrist, pulling it down to kiss my palm.
“She can cook anywhere she wants.” Mrs. Putnam slides a bagel loaded with cream cheese in front of me.
“She’ll cook here,” he growls again. I duck my head to stare down at my shirt, wondering if my nipples are poking through. Whenever he growls that way, my body reacts.
“Where would you like to cook, sweetheart?” Mrs. Putnam asks me, ignoring Griff. His growls do nothing to her.
“People do those YouTube shows. Something like that, maybe. I don’t think I’d love the idea of working in a restaurant,” I admit. “Honestly, I enjoyed cooking here. I think it would be even better with a few little ones running around underfoot. I could picture it now.” I let out a sigh. “The kitchen island crammed with my babies, chaos all around while I cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner for them all.”
I sneak a peek over at Griff, who is looking rather pale now. Oh gosh. I’ve said too much. I’m totally freaking him out. He looks like he’s going to be sick. That’s the same face my brother would get when I’d ask him if he ever wanted to settle down and have a family.