Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“First, you’re bingeing motorcycle gang series, and now sports documentaries? You are a fascinating woman, Liv Bancroft.”
Nudging him with my elbow, I laugh. “Right back at you, Noah Westcott. Except the woman part. You’re most definitely all man.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” He opens the door, and we enter the kitchen. I didn’t expect to have such a large house feel cozy inside, but this one manages it.
A note next to a bouquet draws him to the island. I’m given a chance to look around. The house is still grand, but it’s warm and inviting like every space is lived in.
“I have the tickets, and the flowers I ordered for my sister arrived.”
I turn back. “It’s a beautiful home.”
“Thanks.” He comes closer with hope returning to his eyes. “We’re having a family gathering back here in two weeks. A cookout, end of summer type get-together. Took us weeks to find a weekend that worked for everyone. My sister is wrapping her play, and my brothers have their schedules. Their wives are busy with their careers. A billion emails were exchanged before we narrowed it down, but we managed to. Would you and Max like to come? That would be a good time to introduce you both to everyone.”
I hate that his expression hinges on my answer. It shouldn’t be like that for him, as Maxwell’s dad. I step closer, resting my hands on the counter next to his. “Would it be easier if it were only you and Maxwell?”
Coming closer, he slides his hands around my waist, holding me to him. “Easier for whom?”
“For your family to have that time to adjust, time with him with me out of the way.” I wrap my arms around his neck but direct my gaze to his chest. “I don’t want to ruin Maxwell’s or their experience.”
“What are you talking about? Look at me, Liv. You don’t have to worry about them not accepting him. They are going to flip the fuck out from shock, but they will love him from the moment they meet. Trust me, his family just got huge.”
“Sounds like a dream for him.”
Slipping his hand around the back of my neck, he brings me for a kiss to my forehead. “For us, too. I also want you to meet them.” Taking a step back, he adds, “You don’t have to answer right now. The invitation stands.”
“Yeah?” The hope in his eyes has spread, invading my veins.
“Yeah.” He looks around. “I actually thought they might be here, but it’s too quiet, so I guess they’re out.” He doesn’t miss an opportunity and kisses me again.
Just as I get lost in this man, a throat clearing has us pushing apart. Startled, I look behind me. “Sorry for interrupting. I didn’t know anyone was here.”
The man begins to leave, but Noah says, “It’s okay, Dad.”
Dad?
And this is how I die.
26
Liv
My cup of humiliation runneth over.
Noah’s dad walking in on us not only kissing but witnessing me shamelessly rubbing against his son might be the most embarrassing moment of my life. Is burying my head and pretending that didn’t just happen a possibility?
Ugh.
It doesn’t appear to be an option since Noah takes my hand, and despite my feet being full of concrete, he manages to turn us together like we’re a two-for-one deal and then has the gall to introduce me like I’m not dying inside. “This is Liv Bancroft.”
My hand pops up like I’m back in school. “Hi.”
The man smiles, letting it reach his eyes. They’re kind like Noah’s—no judgment found in his thoughtful expression and matching smile. He’s dressed in jeans and a pullover sweater with a crew neck tee underneath, and nothing about him is pompous.
My gaze dots across his face, studying his features and build, hair, and eye color. He’s the grandfather to my son, who might look like him one day, so my curiosity is running wild. The longer I look at him, the more I see Noah altogether.
Noah glances at me. “This is Port Westcott. My dad.”
Collecting myself and remembering my manners, I move forward with an outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Westcott.”
Taking my hand between both of his, he replies, “It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Bancroft. I apologize for startling you.”
It’s easy to see where Noah gets his looks, not just similarities, but his father is handsome as well. “No, it’s okay. This is your home, and it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “But I can’t take any credit. I’ll make sure to tell my wife.”
“And please,” I add, “you can call me Liv.”
Noah and his dad embrace. His dad says, “How’s it going in the real world?”
“It’s going.” Noah’s eyes connect with mine over his dad’s shoulder. After they clap each other on the back, he asks, “How’s semi-retirement?”