Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“We’ll take care of the flowers, you get his beer and hurry back out there so he’s not bored.”
“Don’t just bring him the bottle, pour it into a glass.”
“Good heavens, Stella, didn’t you even put on lipstick?”
“Leave her be, Grams.” Emme gave me a reassuring smile. “She looks perfect.” He’s fucking hot, she mouthed to me, fanning herself and then miming the blow job again while Grams was busy at the fridge.
I smothered a laugh.
Grams was relentless. “Now when you take it in there, sit close to him and make sure to cross your legs in his direction. Make eye contact, and laugh heartily at all his jokes, even the ones you’ve heard before.”
“Grams, she’s got this,” said Emme.
“I’m just not sure she does,” Grams fretted. “She thinks they’re friends.”
I rolled my eyes, and despite her admonitions, carried two beer bottles out to the living room. Sinatra crooned softly from the old speakers, and Ryan, who’d been sitting on the couch, stood when I entered the room.
“Here you go.” I handed him one of the bottles.
“Thanks.” He waited for me to sit and then lowered himself stiffly to the edge of the couch.
I slipped off my shoes, tucked my legs underneath me and tipped up the bottle. I was usually a wine drinker, but tonight the crisp, cold beer tasted good. “How was work today?”
“Fine.” He drank too, and then we sat in silence. No eye contact, as if we’d gone backward in time.
The therapist in me couldn’t take it. “Something on your mind?”
He slid one palm down the leg of his jeans. “I guess I’m nervous.”
“Why?”
“I thought I could handle coming over for dinner, but now I’m not sure. Once I was standing there facing the three of you, I started to freak out a little.”
I smiled. “I’m sorry about the obvious way Grams keeps trying to shove us together. I have told her repeatedly we’re friends and nothing more.” Part of me hoped he’d argue, but he didn’t.
“It’s okay.” He focused his attention on the bottle between his knees. “Maybe I’m just worried I’ll say the wrong things. Or that I’ll have nothing to say.”
“You did fine with me last night.”
“That was different. I’m … I’m comfortable talking with you.” He met my eyes. “I don’t even know why. I’m never comfortable with anyone.”
My cheeks warmed. “Must be the therapist thing.”
“I don’t think so.”
A few intense thumps of my heart later, he lifted his beer to his lips, and I did the same.
“You look beautiful,” he said a moment later. “I like your dress.”
“Thank you. Emme and I went shopping this afternoon.”
“Did you have a good day?”
“Pretty good.”
He glanced at the kitchen door, then back at me. Lowered his voice. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you today.”
I smiled. “Really?”
“Really. I was working in the barn this afternoon, and I kept remembering last night.”
My insides tightened, and I squeezed my thighs together. “That was fun.”
“Ta da!” Grams backed through the swinging door and turned to place a platter of meatloaf on the dining room table.
Ryan and I jumped off the couch like two teenagers caught making out.
Grams smiled in our direction. “Dinner’s ready if you’d like to come to the table.”
“I can help serve,” I said nervously.
“Me too,” Ryan added. I think both of us wanted something to do with our hands.
Grams couldn’t have chosen a better menu for a guy unused to home-cooked meals. Fresh garden salad, glazed meat loaf, baked acorn squash with butter and maple syrup, warm crusty rolls, fluffy white mashed potatoes … Every dish that came out made Ryan’s eyes pop.
Grams finally removed her apron and bustled into the dining room just as Ryan and I were about to sit down across from each other. “Stella, dear, why don’t you sit at the head of the table, and I’ll sit across from Ryan with Emme next to me? That way I’m closer to the kitchen.”
“But everything’s out, Grams. Is there—”
“What, dear? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you.” Grams practically shoved me aside and dropped into the chair I’d been about to occupy. “Sometimes my hearing is a little sketchy,” she said to Ryan.
Emme and I exchanged a look.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Ryan glanced at me as he sat down, and I rolled my eyes, making him smile.
We unfolded linen napkins onto our laps and passed the serving dishes around, filling our plates.
“My, what a healthy appetite,” Grams said, smiling delightedly at Ryan’s heaping portions. “I appreciate a man who enjoys his food. It shows passion for living.”
Oh, Jesus.
“Everything looks wonderful and smells even better. Thank you for having me.” Ryan picked up his fork and dug in with gusto. It reminded me of the way he’d attacked the pie the other night, and although it made me happy to see him enjoying the food, it also made me a little sad when I thought about the frozen box he’d been eating out of when I arrived.