Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 178(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 178(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
He came around his desk and poked Lucas in the chest. “What are you two doing?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing on them. He wasn’t threatening at all in the silly apron.
“Nothing,” Snow quickly answered.
“Just thought we’d tag along for the tour,” Lucas added.
Ian pointed his finger at Snow and then Lucas. “I don’t trust you two. You’re up to something.” He poked Lucas again. “No funny stuff this year. We have guests. Andrei’s parents don’t need to think we’re all insane.”
Sonja reached over and gently patted Ian’s arm. “Oh sweetie, you don’t need to worry. No one can possibly top my family.”
“Give us a chance. I’m sure we can top anyone,” Snow said, his deep voice dipping to almost a purr.
Sonja’s eyes went wide and a choking noise came from Milos, his face turning a bright red.
Fuck. This was going to be a long day.
3
The Kitchen
After a quick pass through the house, Andrei decided that the kitchen was the smartest place for him. It put some distance between him and Lucas—not that he wanted to be away from Lucas at all. It was just after their encounter in the bathroom, he needed to calm down. He had no intention of going through Thanksgiving dinner with a hard-on while sitting between Lucas and his mother.
For now, he was content to linger in the kitchen, ready to act as referee between Ian and his mother. They had followed him into the kitchen and were playing nice for now, but Andrei suspected it was largely due to the fact that Sonja had promised to share the recipes of all the food she’d brought.
She shuffled a few things around on the breakfast bar and began unpacking one of the insulated bags she’d brought. “I want to thank you again, Ian, for inviting Milos and me to join you. Thanksgiving wouldn’t have been the same without Andrei, but we didn’t want him and Lucas to spend their first holiday apart.”
Andrei felt heat creeping up his neck, but bit his tongue as he continued to wash potatoes as his mother had directed him. It might have started chaotic, but he was also glad that his parents had come up for the holiday. If he’d gone back home, he’d have spent the day missing Lucas. He’d most definitely entered sap territory, so yeah, he wouldn’t have wanted to spend the holiday apart.
Ian picked up one of her covered dishes, lifted the lid and sniffed. “Oh, this smells fantastic! You and Milos are so welcome. The more, the merrier!” He stopped, eyed the cluttered counter and moved a stack of napkins and a bowl. “Do you usually have a big family gathering?”
“No, it’s just the three of us and then my mother. We had a special dinner with her and some other family friends yesterday.”
Andrei brought over the bowl of potatoes to his mom, who leaned up to brush a kiss across his cheek. “So nice to have you in the kitchen with me again. You haven’t cooked with me since you were little.”
“Maybe it’s because you only let me wash things,” Andrei grumbled.
“You were five. There was no way I was going to set you loose with a knife, dragule.”
“Drag…Dragule? What’s that mean?” Ian inquired as he opened the oven. The wonderful smell of turkey grew stronger as he checked the cheesecloth that wrapped the bird. He basted it with something from a pan he’d kept warm on the stove. Andrei’s mouth watered.
“It’s like dear or darling in Romanian.” Sonja leaned over the stove. “What’s in the pan?”
“Butter and wine. It’s a simple recipe that turns out a wonderful, moist bird every time.” He turned the turkey pan, repeating dragule a couple of times under his breath, letting the sound roll around on his tongue. It brought a smile to Andrei’s lips. Lucas had been doing the same thing recently, picking up Romanian words here and there, trying to work them into conversation when it was just the two of them. Something in his chest tightened with every new word the man learned—each one making Andrei feel as if they’d moved one step closer to something more permanent.
“Why is your accent so different from your parents?” Ian asked, looking up at Andrei. His brown eyes shone wet—probably from the steam from the oven. “You can definitely hear their Romanian accents, but you…you don’t even sound like you’re from the hills of Kentucky, let alone Romanian.”
Andrei frowned. “I’ve worked hard to lose my accent, both Romanian and southern.”
“Why?”
Andrei sighed, taking in his mother’s sad expression. “It’s easier to get a job when they don’t think you’re an immigrant.”
Ian glanced at Sonja, then back. “But I thought you were born here.”
“Oh, he was,” Sonja quickly chimed in. “Nine pounds and eleven ounces of screaming terror. But Milos and I were not born in America. He was from Bucharest and moved over with his parents when he was thirteen. I was seventeen when my parents came over from Cluj. It was fate that we found each other.” Sonja paused and gave a happy little sigh, staring at her husband standing in the living room talking with Rowe. “Milos and I had grown up Romanian and around other Romanians. It was too late for us to lose our accents. Andrei went to an American school and had American friends. He studied hard to be an American.”