Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“I have a feeling I know what direction the wind will be blowing in the day he leaves,” Xander said.
“Same. I’m no psychic, but I predict a southerly breeze that takes him straight to Nashville.” I laughed, tipping my chair back again. “So do we say anything?”
“Nah. He’ll tell us when he’s ready.” Xander folded his arms over his chest. “So you’re seeing Ari again tonight, huh? What’s up with that?”
I let the front legs of my chair hit the ground. “Nothing, and don’t start any rumors.”
My brother looked delighted at having pushed a button. “You seem testy all of a sudden. Was it something I said?”
“No wonder Dad doesn’t want us to know about his friend. All this family does is stir shit up.”
“Hey, you’re the one who told me she was making dinner for you again.”
“It’s not for me,” I said irritably. “She’s making dinner, and I’m going to eat it. There’s a difference.”
Xander smirked just like Austin had. “Sure.”
“Listen, I don’t need a lecture on how I need to be a gentleman with Ari from you, okay? I already got it from Austin this morning. And you know what? Ari’s not a little kid anymore, she’s a grown woman, and she can make her own decisions.”
“Dude, I wasn’t going to lecture you.”
“No?”
“No. I was going to tell you flat out that if you’re shitty to her, I’ll kick your ass.”
I laughed. “Much better. Thanks.”
SEVEN
ari
“I think my dad has a secret girlfriend.”
“What?” Positive I’d heard wrong, I looked over at where Dash was leaning back against the kitchen counter, beer in his hand. He still wore his painting clothes—jeans and a navy Two Buckleys Home Improvement T-shirt that was now smudged here and there with beige paint. “A secret girlfriend? Your dad?”
“Yeah. So you can’t tell anybody.”
I mimed zipping my lips. “Okay, but now I need details.”
He talked while I put the finishing touches on our sandwiches—braised short rib grilled cheeses with melted gruyère on sourdough, served with au jus for dipping—and waited for the parmesan truffle fries to come out of the oven.
“Oh, I love that for your dad,” I said, my heart warmed by the story. “I’ve met Julia, and she’s wonderful. So vivacious and fun. And she’s beautiful—long legs, blond hair, great smile.”
“I’m happy about it too. I just wish he’d be honest about it. Why doesn’t he trust us to know?”
“Do you think he’s worried you might judge him?”
“After we all begged him for years to get back out there?” He shook his head. “He couldn’t be.”
“He never dated anyone after your mom died, right?”
“Never. He always said the same thing—it only happens once.”
I peeked at the fries. “Do you believe that?”
“Not sure what I believe.”
The fries needed a few more minutes, so I shut the oven and set the timer. “Have you ever been in love?”
“No.”
I turned around and faced him. “Really? That surprises me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” It also pleased me, but I didn’t want to admit that. “I guess I just assumed you had lots of girlfriends out in Hollywood. I’ve seen some pictures.”
“Don’t believe anything you see online. I mean, I’m not saying I’ve been a monk, but I’ve never dated anyone too seriously. Feelings have never really been my thing.”
I laughed. “That’s right. You’ve been all clogged up for years.”
“What about you?” He tilted his head and gestured toward me with his beer. “Ever been in love?”
“I thought so, at the time. But maybe not.” I shrugged. “I tend to pick the wrong guys.”
“Wrong how? Like they treated you badly?” Dash looked like an angry big brother, like he might go out right this minute and beat somebody up for messing with his kid sister.
“No,” I said quickly. “Other than Niall, no one has ever treated me badly. They just weren’t right for me. We didn’t want the same things.”
“What do you want?”
“Nothing crazy.” I picked at a loose thread in my oven mitt. “I just want to feel like someone thinks I’m worth the time and effort a relationship takes. Sometimes I think I was spoiled by my parents’ marriage. I grew up seeing them work together, live together, raise me together. Not that they never fought, because they did—all the time. But at the end of the day, they put each other first.”
“Yeah, your parents are a tough act to follow.”
“I just want someone to be there. Be in it with me. You know?” My timer went off, and I tried opening the oven door with my injured hand. “God, I can’t wait to get these damn stitches out.”
“Here, let me do that.” Setting his beer down, he plucked the mitt off my right hand, slipped it on, and opened the oven.
After he set the fries on the stove top, I poked at them with a spatula. They looked and smelled delicious—browned at the edges, fragrant with truffle oil and parmesan. And yet, I found myself studying them with a critical eye, knowing Niall would comment scornfully on the inconsistent thickness of the fries. Maybe he’d force me to throw them out. Maybe he’d berate me in front of everyone else on the line and I’d have to dig my fingernails into my palms so I wouldn’t cry.