Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Then this is the perfect opportunity,” I said, picking up my keys and heading out the front door. “I’m going to be at your place in a few minutes. Be ready. It’s a long drive.”
“Red—”
“If you hate this, you never have to listen to me again,” I said. “I’ll see you soon.”
When I picked him up, he gave me a hard glare, but there was also the hint of a smile on his face as he settled into the passenger seat.
He dumped the contents of a grocery bag onto the space between us in the front of my truck.
“You said it was a two-hour drive, so I’ve got some M&Ms, a couple bottles of water, and a blanket.”
“You don’t go anywhere without a blanket, do you?” I asked.
“Hell no, I don’t,” he said. “I know you like keeping your AC at arctic temperatures.”
“Not my fault my blood runs hot,” I said. “Also, M&M’s? Before dinner?”
“I think M&Ms are always a good appetizer,” he said. “Since when are you such a rule-follower, anyway?”
I bit down a smile. “Tear open that pack and give me a handful.”
Liam was wearing a henley shirt that hugged his body perfectly, along with nice dark denim and black leather boots. In one day, I’d gotten to see him disheveled in the morning, all adorable in his robe and underwear, and now like this, completely sexy in fitted everyday clothes.
“What the hell are you listening to?” Liam said, reaching to turn up the volume.
“I don’t only listen to 80s rock,” I said.
“You listen to classical piano music?” he said, his mouth hanging open.
I shrugged. “Thought you had a stressful day. Classical music can be relaxing. Turn it off if you want to, shit. I don’t care.”
He smiled. “It’s beautiful,” he said.
I bit back a smile. “Now you’ve got me all embarrassed,” I said, reaching for the radio knob.
“No,” he said, gripping my wrist. “We’re leaving it on.”
I pushed his hand away and we both started to laugh. “Fine,” I said. He relaxed his hand and I laced my fingers through his, tightly holding his hand in mine.
It was a playful gesture at first, but the moment my hand was holding his, I knew I wasn’t going to let it go.
We started off on the highway to Kansas City, Liam’s hand in mine.
14
Liam
My anxiety about meeting Red’s mom popped like a bubble the minute she answered the door.
“Well, hello there, biscuit,” she said, immediately bringing me into a hug. “Aren’t you cute!” She smelled faintly of coconut, and her hair was a big, 80s-esque poof of auburn brown waves, with one grey streak near the front. Her voice was as Southern-fried as could be.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Redford,” I said, stepping into the house.
“Call me Rita or you’re going to make me feel old,” she said, pointing a finger at me fixing me with a menacing glare. She had the same golden brown eyes as Red did, though, and even when she was jokingly trying to look stern, the same warm-hearted aura shined through.
“Definitely call her Rita,” Red said as we made our way into the living room. “You don’t want to get on her bad side.”
“This place is amazing, Rita,” I said, looking around at the house. It wasn’t huge, but she’d worked hard on making it her own. There were beautiful framed paintings of mountain ranges, a collection of small bronze statues of various animals, and most importantly to me, an array of photos of Red and his brother Rock, at all stages of life.
“I like to think I get my sense of decorating from my mom,” Red said.
“I may have taught you how to have a good sense for it,” Rita said, “but your taste is a lot more…”
“Old Western?”
“And gay,” Rita said, her expression very matter-of-fact.
Red laughed. “I would argue with that, but when you’re right, you’re right,” he said. “I do have quite a few framed black-and-white photos of shirtless cowboys in my house.”
Rita was still watching me. I got the sense she was scrutinizing me, like I imagined she might examine each fruit while trying to find the perfect peach at the grocery store.
“Liam,” she said. “I’ve just got a simple question for you.”
I swallowed. “Lay it on me,” I said.
I had no idea how much Red had told her about me. I waited for the obvious questions—where I was from, how old I was, and maybe some questions about my career in porn.
“Do you like roast chicken?” she asked.
I almost laughed at how unexpected the question was.
“I absolutely love roast chicken,” I said.
“And how do you eat your roast chicken?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
I glanced to Red for some sort of assistance, but he was just shaking his head.
“Um,” I said, “...usually with a fork and knife?”
A bubble of laughter escaped her. “No, darlin’, I mean how do you take it? Plain? Gravy? Anything else?”