Man of My Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page A

through my romance novels again?”
    Declan can’t contain his laughter. I slap a hand across his mouth, shushing him. “Shh! Let them sleep.” I nibble his ear, inching my hand into his PJs. “You started it, now let me finish it.”
     

     
    An hour later downstairs in the kitchen, Declan turns to the girls, stirring his pancake concoction of bananas and chocolate chips. “So what do you ladies want to do today?”
    “Can we go see Santa?” Cara looks up from cartoons first to tell us of her Saturday afternoon idea.
    Charlie immediately disagrees, “No! Mommy, I scared. I don’t want to see Santa!”
    “Charlie, if we don’t see him he won’t know whatta bring us for Christmas. You wanna get another baby doll? Come on!”
    Declan and I laugh at Cara’s unrepressed honesty. The kid wants her chance to plead with the big guy. I think this year it’s Barbie’s Dream House she has her heart set on.
    “Charlie, if we go to the mall to see Santa you don’t have to sit on his lap. Cara can tell him what you want. Is that okay?” Declan flips another pancake, trying to reason with the ever-unreasonable two-year-old.
    Charlie plays with the idea in her head, her little mouth crunched up in a tight pout, her teeny nose crinkled up. “Okay, Daddy.”
    I guess we’re off to the mall today—should be fun fighting the holiday crowd with a double stroller. I can hardly hide my excitement. Just another day in the not-so-glamorous life of a housewife. But maybe if I sacrifice what could have been a peaceful Saturday afternoon and suck it up, I can be rewarded later. I immediately scoot over to Declan, my enthusiastic hands around his waist.
    “Babe, want to see if your parents will sit later tonight? I’ll call Grace and see if someone can watch Brandon, too. The four of us haven’t been out for a non-Applebee’s meal in way too long.” I don’t even give Declan a chance to answer, my fingers already mid-text.
    “I don’t know, Mia. I’ve been so beat lately. My eyes start to shut by nine o’clock. I guess we’re getting old.”
    Shot down, just like that? “Speak for yourself, buddy. I still feel like a teenager. And what happened to the benefits of marrying a younger man? I should be the one passed out by nine.” In the good old days, we wouldn’t even head out to our first destination until ten, eleven o’clock. Now, and especially lately, I’m lucky if Declan isn’t snoring before the kids are even down for the night.
    He places the first batch of pancakes at the center of the table, the steam spiraling up out of the scrumptious looking pile. The girls reach over, licking their little lips, and I place one pancake on each of their plates. As I start cutting them into bite-size bits, I try to think of a way to coerce Declan to wine and dine his wife tonight.
    “Babe, I really want to get out. Look at me...” I flip my flat, hanging hair and pull at a piece of the threadbare cotton drooping off my legs, “I’ve resorted to ponytails and sweatpants, Dec. It’s become my flipping uniform. If we go, I can pick up something new to wear while we’re at the mall. Something sexy ,” I wink. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
    Now if I were a guy, and I saw the desperate I-need-a-night-out-look I’m giving my husband, I would race over to my wife, tell her how beautiful she is and promise her the date night she so desires. But Declan is a guy—he doesn’t think like a woman and that’s not what he’s about to do.
    He rubs his face, paying close attention to his temples, and lets out a long sigh, “Fine. But you make the arrangements and I can’t promise I won’t be yawning by the time the appetizers come. And don’t you and Grace get any after party ideas. Dinner and home. It’s been a crazy week.”
    Oh thank you, Mr. Take-All-the-Fun-Out-of-Everything! Even though I want to kid him about his lack of enthusiasm, the idea of eating in peace, in a restaurant that’s not a chain, with adult