Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
“Relax. They’re just people,” Noah says, touching my knee and interrupting my thoughts. He thinks I’m nervous about meeting his family.
I clutch the cherry pie on my lap even tighter. Noah and I made it together this morning. Actually, that’s not right. I was pitting cherries at the kitchen counter when he came in and started licking the sticky juice off my skin. Next thing I knew, he was between my thighs, making me come on his tongue.
“We won’t have to stay long. Just put in an appearance,” Noah promises me.
I shake my head, not wanting him to miss out on time with his family. “No, let’s stay a while. I’m excited to meet them.”
He gives me a look like he doesn’t quite believe me then he’s pressing a soft kiss against my lips. When he pulls away, he strokes my cheek with his thumb. “I can’t wait to show you off to them.”
Without waiting for me to respond, he leaves the truck and jogs around to my door. He helps me down, his hands lingering on my hips a beat longer than necessary. He’s always touching me, and I love how affectionate he is.
He pulls my hand into his as we walk up the steps, but fortunately, he doesn’t say anything about how clammy my palms are.
Maybe if I can just get his family to like me, we can be together for a little while longer. Because when Noah finally decides I’m not worth the trouble, it’s going to break my heart.
Chapter 12
Noah
Something is bothering me as I watch Lizzy flit around the family gathering. I can’t put my finger on what’s wrong. I only know that I can feel it in my gut. Everyone is here for the weekly dinner at Mom’s house.
Greer is with his girlfriend, Evie, and her younger brothers. The four of them live together and I’ve seen the way those boys idolize Greer. It’s got me thinking about the next generation of Maples and what that’s going to look like.
Mom catches my eye and gestures for me to follow her, interrupting my musings.
I thread around Barrett and Zac who are still arguing over whose chili recipe is better when the obvious answer is my chili. I don’t bother to stop and explain that to them as I follow Mom out into the back bedroom. It used to be where I bunked with Greer. But after we left, she turned the space into a crafts room.
Half-finished projects litter every surface. I navigate carefully around her old oak desk that’s stacked high with colorful swatches for her latest quilt. I barely manage to avoid knocking off a collection of tiny dollhouse figurines and a jar of buttons from her cube organizer.
Every so often, my mom and my sister, Ginger, ask me to “help” rearrange this room which is mainly me just grunting as I move furniture until they decide they want it in the exact same spot it was originally. But no matter how many times they put the furniture right back where it was, I’ll always come over and move it for them. It’s just what a cowboy does. He takes care of the ones he loves.
“You’re in love with her,” Mom says, turning her chair to face me.
“I’m marrying her,” I admit. The moment that Lizzy lets me put a ring on her finger will be the happiest moment of my life.
Mom studies me for a long moment. She’s never shied away from sharing her opinion with the world, but she’s different with me. Quieter and gentler. “She has the same lost look in her eye that you did when you first arrived.”
Maybe that’s what’s been bothering me lately. Maybe that’s why I feel Lizzy pulling away from me.
“Greer says you already have a ring for her.”
I blow out a breath. I haven’t given it to her yet. It’s not because I have a single doubt that Lizzy is the one for me. I know she’s my forever. But the more I’ve gotten to know her, the more I don’t think that she’s going to be happy with the ostentatious diamond I picked. “I’m not so sure if it’s the right one.”
She nods to her bag on the craft table. “Hand me that.”
I pick up the large brown satchel, half of her things falling out of the overstuffed bag, including her phone. I grab it, frowning at the text message I see.
“Those are just messages from Carol,” Mom says, her cheeks turning a shade of pink.
I pass the phone back without a word. It’s an old trick I learned from her. When you think someone’s guilty, be quiet and give them enough rope.
“There’s nothing wrong with seeing my bridge partner regularly,” she insists.
Except that those messages weren’t from her bridge partner Carol. There were too many eggplant emojis and peaches for that to be anything other than a boyfriend.