Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 141634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“You and your brother look so much alike, yet there’s something so different. I can’t place what it is, but maybe it’s the eye color.” I don’t say that there’s something about Miller that I find more comforting. His brother has a coldness behind his eyes, and I don’t believe for a second it’s because they are blue.
“Do you and your sister look alike?”
“Night and day.” I reach into my purse and pull out a picture. “We have a lot of the same features, but our hair and eyes are so different.”
“The dimples.” He points at me, and it makes me smile bigger, which shows them off.
He gives me a heated look that has me averting my eyes because I’m not used to a man looking at me like that. So I do what any girl would do to get the attention off her—I change the subject.
“What are your plans for the holiday? Are you going to see family?” When I finally steal a glance back at him, I notice his mood shifts.
“Not really.”
Knowing we’re both heading to the same city, I blurt out the last thing I ever thought I would say in my entire life. “Then you should come with me. You’ve never had a Thanksgiving unless you’ve had one at the Williams’ house.” He looks unsure of how to respond to my request, so I use the one trick that always works on me. “You wouldn't want to disappoint my mom, would you? She’s what sweetness is made of. I’m pretty sure without her holidays would cease to exist.”
When I watch one of the corners of his mouth turn up in a smirk, I’m pretty sure I’ve won this battle. I’m also pretty sure I might be turning into my mother. It’s certainly not a bad thing, but I’m not about to let her know.
Chapter Four
MILLER
The light above our heads comes on, and the plane begins to rattle a little. Turbulence is something that happens on occasion and doesn't bother me. But Frost? I glance back at him and see his hands gripping the arms of the seat and his knuckles turning white.
“This is your captain speaking, please fasten your seatbelts.” The voice comes through the cabin, and I glance over at Pumpkin. “We’re getting ready to land in the next twenty minutes, but we’re going to have a few bumps along the way.”
I hear Frost from behind me cursing in Russian, and I turn around. “It’s going to be okay,” I say to him in a low voice, and he presses his lips together tightly.
“I hate when the plane bounces,” Pumpkin says, and I see a hand go to her stomach while the other grips her arm rest almost identically to Frost.
“It will be okay.” Without a second thought I place my much larger hand over hers and squeeze a little. She looks up at me and then away quickly.
“Tell me something.”
“Tell you what?” she asks distractedly.
“Something that will keep your mind off of the bumps.” The plane dips again as I say it, and there are a few sounds from people behind us in the plane.
We’re moving quite a bit now as the plane rocks, and the flight attendants strap into their seats. The captain comes back on and tells us it won’t be much longer, but I can feel the anxious panic from Pumpkin beside me and Frost at my back.
I turn to face her but speak loud enough for my brother to hear. “Thanksgiving is in two days. Are you sure your family will welcome the both of us?”
“Um yes.” Pumpkin swallows and then looks at me with more confidence. “They’ll love to meet the both of you.”
“Da, and will you cook for me?”
The flush of her cheeks isn’t from nervousness as she smiles. “Yes, I’ll cook for you.”
“My brother loves desserts, but I prefer…” I take my time glancing down her body before I look into her eyes. “Savory.”
“L-like what?” She leans closer to me, and I do the same, like we’re sharing a secret.
“Something warm.” I use the tip of my finger to trace the shape of her jaw before I graze her bottom lip. “Something decadent.”
I hear Frost speaking in Russian, but I ignore him, and Pumpkin doesn’t seem to hear him. I lean even closer to her, to where I can feel her breath against my lips, and I can see the flecks of gold in her ice blue eyes.
“Tell me, sweet Pumpkin, do you have something like that for me?” If I pressed my lips to hers right now, I think her desire would taste like the first drink of coffee on a cold snowy morning. This little woman could make me addicted with one tiny bite.
Her eyes slowly close, and my finger traces down her chin and to the delicate skin of her neck. I can feel her heartbeat thumping against my thumb like a baby kitten in my arms. I want to cuddle her in my lap and use her as the comfort I have been without for so many years.