Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“It smells so good in here!”
It does. It reminds me of my mom’s kitchen during the holidays, that rich fragrant smell of good food being prepared by skilled hands. When I’m away from Texas for too long, I miss her homecooked meals like nothing else. I’ve tried to get better at cooking myself. I’m not an idiot; I know how to follow a recipe. It’s just not something I’m naturally good at, and I don’t really have the time or desire to branch out, so the same few meals get rotated nonstop. I know at this point, Harper’s as sick of spaghetti as I am.
“Thanks, Harper,” Chloe says, waving her over. “Want to come see what I have cooking? Actually, I could use your help with something important.”
Harper puffs with pride. “Really?”
“Yes. I just took this strawberry crisp out of the oven, and I absolutely need a taste tester.”
“Okay!”
I watch Chloe carefully dip a spoon into the edge of the dessert and then blow on the bite to ensure it’s cooled down enough before she passes it off to Harper.
Harper—my picky eater—takes the bite without hesitation, then her eyes squeeze shut as she savors it.
“It’s so good, Chloe!”
“Ms. Chloe,” I remind her.
Chloe beams. “I’m glad you like it. Strawberries are in season right now, and I bought a big ol’ carton of them at the store. Tomorrow, I have plans to make a strawberry cake.”
Harper passes the spoon back. “Can I help you make it?! I like baking! Can I have an apron like yours too? Only mine could be purple and pink and there could be a unicorn right here.”
Chloe fields her questions like a pro, mostly deferring them my way with “If your dad says it’s okay,” and then she enlists Harper to help put the finishing touches on the table. “I picked these flowers from the garden. Put them wherever you think they’d look best.”
It’s so natural watching them together. It reminds me of how Harper is with my mom and my sister. Maria’s good with her too, but she’s older, and while she’s incredibly reliable and trustworthy, she can be a little stern. It’s probably good for Harper in the end. I can think of a thousand ways to raise a brat in this private-school-trust-fund-baby world I’ve found myself in.
I like that Chloe seems to be good with Harper. Still, I haven’t fully come to terms with the fact that there will be someone else living in the house with us this summer, not quite intruding but becoming part of our time together, for better or worse. If you’d asked me before I left the city if I wanted to have a live-in caretaker and chef with us this summer, I would have said absolutely not. These months are about taking it slow and being with Harper, just her and me. We have a lot of lost time to catch up on from my travel days with the Pinstripes.
It was tricky though, finding Chloe here in the middle of the night. I couldn’t kick her out then, and by this morning, it was as if the ball was already rolling. I would have felt like an asshole turning down her proposal and telling her to pack her bags.
But now, when Harper asks Chloe to stay and eat dinner with us, it feels like one step too far, and I’m relieved when Chloe shakes her head before I have to be the bad guy.
“That’s really nice of you to offer, Harper, but you know what? I’m going to take dinner back to my room and clean up a little. I’m a mess! I think I have strawberries in my hair.”
She bends down and insists Harper check for her.
Chloe does look like she’s spent the last few hours in the kitchen, but she doesn’t look like a mess. Far from it. She’s still wearing her sundress beneath her linen apron. Her cheeks are naturally flushed against her tan complexion. She’s barefoot and beautiful. I’ve seen women dressed to the nines after sitting in a hair and makeup chair for five hours, and they don’t hold a candle to Chloe.
As if aware that my thoughts have drifted toward an unprofessional place, her attention shifts to me. The light in her eyes doesn’t dull, but the edges of her smile grow slightly more guarded.
“Just let me know when you guys are done and I can come do the dishes. I tried to clean up as I cooked, but—”
I shake my head. “Harper and I will do the dishes.”
Harper nods enthusiastically. “That’s one of the tasks on my chore chart. We didn’t bring it with us, it’s in the city, but it’s really cool. I spin it and it tells me what job I have that week. If I finish all the tasks before Dad reminds me, I get to pick a little treat from a basket. I got scratch-and-sniff stickers last week!”