Page 110 of Own the Eights Maybe Baby
She shook her head. “Howard has a zillion assistants and secretaries. I’m not even sure who I’m talking to from one week to the next. But they’ve all been telling me the same thing.”
“The wholeSankalparesponse?”
“Yep,” she said, then changed her mind and broke off another bite of the cake.
“Just cut a piece of cake and eat it, Georgie,” her husband called.
She looked around the kitchen. Her only company was a snoozing Mr. Tuesday and Faby, who had no qualms with her scarfing down a cake, piece by broken-off piece.
“How do you know I’m eating the pineapple upside-down cake?” she called.
“Are you?” he shot back, and she could hear the cocky smile in his voice.
She wiped the crumbs from her lips. “No,” she answered with the giant bite still in her mouth.
“The email said they’re going to serve dinner and dessert tonight. You don’t want to ruin your appetite,” he chided playfully.
“When in the last month has eating before a meal ruined my appetite?” she tossed back about to break off another hunk of cake when a sexy hunk of a cowboy entered the kitchen. And all thoughts of pineapple-sweetened carbohydrates evaporated.
“Speaking of appetites,” Jordan said and moseyed across the room.
And hello, hotness!
She tried to speak, but she couldn’t exactly form words other than a sultry, “Oh.”
“Have I rendered you speechless, Miss Rancher’s Daughter?”
“It’s just that when we do our morning sexcapades, I’m the one in costume,” she replied, finding her voice—but just barely. This man could have been plastered on the cover of every Western romance novel in her bookshop.
“Not tonight, little lady,” he said with the tip of his cowboy hat. “It’s a Western-themed gala, so we’re both dressing up.”
“Yeah, but you look like cowboy sex on a stick, and I look like I swallowed the cast ofLittleHouse on the Prairie.”
He chuckled and shook his head.
She gestured toward his body. “Do you mind if I take a second? I’d pictured this way back when we’d found out we were going to have a baby. I just didn’t expect it would exceed my fantasy.”
“Are you asking if you can ogle me, MBG?”
“That’s exactly what I’m asking,” she said, not messing around with her ogling.
More than that. Any ranch he’d work on would be a mess. How the heck could any rancher’s daughter get even a lick of work done with a man like this walking around.
And there was more.
Standing in front of her, in full cowboy regalia, Jordan Marks had donned not only the signature cowboy hat, plaid shirt, and jeans. He had chaps.
Let’s repeat that.
Jordan Marks was wearing leather chaps.
Black leather cowboy chaps.
In her kitchen.
Right this very moment.
“Are you doing okay there, messy bun girl?” he asked when her phone pinged.
