Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
I caress her cheek. “Okay. I’ll be there. What time?”
“Six thirty. Don’t be late.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
RORY
My stomach feels like a couple of people are playing Ping-Pong inside me. I don’t know why I’m nervous. Heck, my mom was thrilled. Not only am I bringing home someone from the Steel family, I’m bringing home a man.
She loves me and supports me, but deep inside, she’s always hoped I’d end up with a man instead of a woman.
I honestly never knew which one it would be—not until Brock.
He’s my forever.
Callie has moved almost all her stuff into Donny’s guesthouse. She hasn’t slept at home the last two nights.
I miss her.
Since Raine and I broke up and I moved back into my parents’ home, I got used to having Callie next to me, joined by our Jack and Jill bathroom.
She and I have always been close, and it was great having her to talk to. Now that I know everything that’s going on with the Steel family, and Brock and I have declared our love, I have more to talk to her about than ever.
But I guess we will find our way.
“Rory!” Mom calls from the kitchen.
I hurry in. “Yeah, what do you need?”
“Everything’s ready for the most part. But I want to use the good napkins. The table’s all set. Could you get them out of the cupboard in the closet?”
“Cloth napkins?”
“This is company, Rory. We always use cloth napkins for company.”
“Right.”
Except we haven’t had company in years, other than Uncle Scott, Aunt Lena, and the cousins. And we don’t break out the formal napkins for them.
I grab the forest-green napkins from the closet, along with Mom’s brass napkin holders. I roll them up, slip them into the holders, and place one on top of each plate.
Then I inhale.
Mom is preparing salmon en croûte, one of her specialties. My mom is a great cook, and her breads are almost as good as Ava Steel’s.
I return to the kitchen, and Mom hands me a platter of assorted cheeses and crackers. “Put this on the coffee table in the front room.”
“The front room?”
We almost never use the formal living room. Always the family room.
“Yes, the front room. This is company, Rory.”
Right. Company.
Her daughters and their boyfriends.
In Callie’s case, her fiancé.
But not just any boyfriend and fiancé. Steels.
One of the Ping-Pong players inside me shoots one out of bounds.
Why am I so freaked out?
I set down the tray just as the door opens. The dogs are outside, so there’s no commotion.
“Hey, we’re here,” Callie calls.
“Hey, guys,” I say.
“So…” Donny smiles a big Steel smile. “You and Brock? Never saw that one coming.”
“Neither did I.” I return his smile. “But I’m not complaining.”
“Neither is he apparently. Never thought I’d see the day, at least not for another ten years or so.”
“Give her a break, Donny,” Callie chides. “This is new for both of them.”
“All right, all right.”
Mom comes bustling in, gives Callie and Donny each a hug. “Go on down to the family room. Frank will fix whatever you want to drink.”
I follow them, taking Mom’s cheese platter with me.
“Rory, I told you the living room.”
“Dad and all the booze are downstairs. He’ll be more comfortable down there, and so will Donny and Brock. I swear.”
She sighs. “All right. If you’re sure.”
“Trust me. I’m sure. Plus it’s bigger, and the furniture is more comfortable.”
She lifts her hands in the air, shakes her head, and sighs.
Good. I won that round.
I set the tray on the table next to our makeshift bar. We don’t have a built-in bar like Brock has in his parents’ guesthouse or like I’m sure every other Steel house possesses. Our bar is a shelf of liquor, a mini fridge, and two high tables.
“What’ll it be, Don?” my dad asks.
“Whatever you’ve got open, Frank.”
“What’s your mixed drink of choice?”
“Margarita, but I don’t expect you to go to all that trouble.”
“Nonsense. It’s no trouble at all.”
My father, though not a drinker himself, enjoys tending bar. He put himself through college doing exactly that.
“Diet Coke for you Callie?” Dad says.
“Hey, if you’re making margaritas, I’ll have one of those as well.”
“Coming right up.” Dad pulls the blender off the shelf.
Then the doorbell.
Brock.
My stomach tumbles. “I’ll get it.”
I walk out of the family room, through the foyer to the door, and open it.
Brock Steel stands there, looking as though he just stepped out of the pages of GQ magazine. He’s wearing black slacks, black loafers, and a light-gray button-down, two buttons open. His hair is actually combed, and he’s holding a bouquet of yellow roses.
My jaw drops. “For me?”
He smiles. “Actually, they’re for your mother, Rory.”
I can’t help laughing. “Oh my God, she’s going to love you.”
“Were you afraid she wouldn’t?”
“Are you kidding me? You’re a Steel. And you have a Y chromosome. You’re everything she dreamed of for her bisexual daughter.”