Page 42 of Damaged Billionaire Daddy
“That would be coffee,” I assured him, even as my cheeks grew warm at the innuendo. I tried not to stare as he made his way to the bathroom. He had not put his shirt back on after our under-cover adventures last night.
His shoulders were broad, well-muscled, indicating the many hours he probably spent in the gym to maintain his physique. Hisplaid flannel sleep pants covered his hips and rear but did little to disguise that this area was also toned.
There was no question about it. Richard Lane might not play football any longer, but he was still a hunk, and continued exposure was not toning down my desire for him. What would I do when he got tired of playing house in the mountains and went back to his normal social life? It had not escaped my attention that he’d had to buy jeans.
I turned my attention back to my pancake batter before I put in something extra or left something vital out. It was difficult to mess up pancake batter, but it could be done.
Richard returned in a few minutes, smelling of aftershave and mint toothpaste. I wasn’t sure whether to admire his clean-shaven jaw or to mourn the sexy scruff with which he had awakened.
“Mmmm . . . coffee and pancakes? Kandis Quinn, if I knew you a little better, I might ask you to marry me.”
I snickered. “If you knew me a little better, you might run. Is there maple syrup?”
He grinned like a kid about to impart some special secret. “There is. What’s more there are two bottles of it, so after we have pancakes, we can make snow candy!”
“That sounds fun!” I said. “I’ve always wanted to try that.”
After we chowed down on the pancakes, Richard volunteered to wash up since I had cooked. Back in the days when she was herself, Mom taught me how to keep my kitchen clean as I went, so there wasn’t much cleaning to do beyond our plates and cups.
Before he got started, he put a small pan on the stove and poured one bottle of maple syrup into it. “It needs to cook down some,” he explained, at my wide-eyed look of astonishment.
Since he seemed to know what he was doing, I graciously allowed him to clean the kitchen while I changed intothermal underwear, flannel lined jeans, and a gorgeous cable knit sweater.
While Richard changed into similar gear, I rummaged in the cabinets and came up with three square cake pans. We then donned hats, gloves and coats, picked up our candy making gear, and prepared to brave the wilderness.
Richard opened the door, and we stepped out into a winter wonderland. There was a thin film of clouds overhead, letting through an occasional ray of sunlight that made the snow sparkle.
The wind was out of the south, and we could already hear water running under the snow.
“It isn’t going to last long,” Richard said. “So we might be able to get out of here tonight, or maybe early in the morning. The day after at the latest. The snowplow ought to be along after a while. Folks got to go to work tomorrow unless everything is called off because of the snow.”
Work. I hadn’t even thought about it. Pops would forgive me for not showing up on time, but it would have been nice to be able to call and let him know.
I shook off the reminder of responsibility and said, “Then I guess we should make the best of this.” I scooped up a panfull of the beautiful, pristine snow, and drizzled maple syrup on it. The syrup sank through the snow. “Do you think it’s supposed to do that?” I asked.
“Set in the pan on the top of that drift,” Richard said. “While it is setting, let’s make a snowman.”
“A snowman?” I asked. It had been years since I’d made one.
“Sure. The snow is perfect for making snowballs.” Richard grinned at me, scooped up a handful of snow, and compacted it into a ball before tossing it at me.
“Oh, really?” I scooped up a handful of snow and made aball of my own. My throw caught him in the shoulder and broke into powder.
We indulged in a snowball fight for a few minutes, then rolled a huge ball of snow across the path to the house, and down the driveway behind the jeep. It made a broad trail in the deep snow.
We rolled the big snowball past a satellite dish, and Richard paused to brush it off. “No need to be without communications,” he said. “Just in case of an emergency.”
It didn’t take long to create a medium sized snowball, then a smaller one. Richard made sure the snowman was situated on the lawn rather than on the drive. “No point in having to move it so we can get out,” he said.
There was plenty of snow, so we built a snow fort around the snow man, then engaged in another snowball fight, taking turns defending the fort.
We made snow angels and threw more snow at each other. Richie sneaked up behind me and put snow down my collar. I retaliated by putting snow down his collar, then ran away from him while he chased me with another handful of snow.
Our outdoor fun came to an end when Richard slipped and came down heavily on his side.
“Are you all right?” I asked hurrying back to him.
He tried to smile at me. “Came down on my bad side,” he said. “It kinda smarts, ya know?”
