Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“Nice place. It’s more normal than I thought it would be.”
I laugh. “Were you expecting gold ceilings and priceless art on the walls?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets, a little nervous, I think but still full of confidence.
“Honestly? Kind of. One of my brothers, Coop? His fiancé is loaded, and their house is gigantic like this, but over the top.”
“Are you disappointed?”
He shrugs. “That depends. Will we be eating on the fine china with golden forks and knives?”
I laugh and shake my head. “Sadly, no, we just have regular silverware, but I’m sure my mom has brought out the good china in honor of our guest.”
“I guess I’ll have to make do. Somehow.” His playful banter is just as intoxicating as his naughty words.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” I tell him, my grave tone mismatching the laughter in my eyes. “Let’s see them.”
I hold one hand out in a gimme motion.
“What?” His lips quirk into a grin, meaning he knows exactly what I want.
“Your million-dollar sunglasses.”
It’s still baffles me that anyone could spend that kind of money on an accessory, but I suppose it’s no different than Mom’s expensive jewelry or Dad’s overpriced golf clubs.
“A million? Hardly Letty.” He pulls out a sleek black case with gold trim and puts it in my palm.
“Go on, ogle my shades.”
I open the lid and gasp. They are pretty fantastic and extra fancy.
“Wow, who knew I traveled in such rich circles?”
His laughter is deep and rumbling, contagious. “Lucky you.”
Lucky me, indeed. “Come on, let’s go see if my mom needs any help.”
“Sure. I happen to be an excellent taste tester. Ask anyone.” He raises an eyebrow that makes me squirm. For a split second, I wonder who he’s been tasting.
Shades follows me into the kitchen, and I can feel the heat of his gaze on my backside. Feeling bold, I put a little extra swing in my hips for those last few steps to the kitchen.
“Mother, this is Shades.” I turn to him and say, “and this is my mother, Clara Palmer.” I hold up the bag with a smile.
“Shades brought wine, Mother. I think it’s right up your alley.” She plucks the bag from my hand and peeks inside with a gasp.
Her gaze meets his, and just like that, she accepts him.
“A man who doesn’t show up empty-handed. I like it. Thank you, young man.”
Shades crosses the kitchen to greet her with a smile, offering his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Palmer.”
“Call me Clara, please. Shades. What a lovely nickname. How did you get it?”
He dips his head like a nervous and fluttering Hugh Grant. “My love of sunglasses, ma’am. I’ve been collecting them since I was a kid, and it got a little crazy during my time in the Marines.”
“Loretta mentioned you were a war hero. Thank you for your service,” she tells him and pats his cheek. “I can see why Loretta likes you.”
“Yeah? Most days, I’m not sure she does, ma’am.”
I roll my eyes, but deep down, the way he keeps calling her ma’am is sending waves of heat darting through my body.
“I like you just fine. I’m just not falling at your feet.”
“Not yet,” he mouths the words to me. “What smells so incredible?”
My mom perks up at the question. “I wanted to cook tonight for our special guest,” she put a hand on his shoulder. “We have porterhouse steaks, buttery mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables. I hope you like steak?”
“More than just about anything else, Clara.”
“Excellent. Are you a wine or a whiskey man?” Before Shades can answer, she turns to me. “Loretta, set the outside table for three, please. Your father is working late.”
I nod but hesitate. Mother is pretty nice to everyone but me, yet I still worry about Shades. “Uh, sure.”
“I’ll be fine, Letty.” Shades sends me a wink, and my whole body almost goes up in flames.
“If you’re sure,” I say uneasily. Then I do as my mom asks. I rush through the task as quickly as I can without making what she will see as a critical error in setting the table just so for company. Everything is perfect, and I sigh before rushing back into the kitchen.
To find Shades and my mother laughing. No, not just laughing, howling. Laughing like old friends indulging in wild memories.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing at all,” Mom says dismissively. “It’s time to put the steaks on the grill while everything else warms in the oven. Let’s go cook under the stars, shall we?”
Who is this woman, and what has she done with my mother?
I see the way she interacts with Shades as if he’s just another normal man, not a tatted up biker in a leather jacket.
But it makes me think that maybe I am the problem, not her. And that makes my stomach turn.
Mother can be judgmental, but usually, she reserves it just for me, not the world at large. So Shades has made choices in his life I wouldn’t have made, but that doesn’t make him a bad man. By all accounts, he seems like a good guy.