Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Hale mirrored their amusement. “Pardon my sister, gentlemen. She brings a soapbox with her everywhere she goes.”
I drew back at precisely the same time Phina frowned at Hale. She was very passionate about environmental issues and animal rights, and maybe this wasn’t the best place to talk about the agricultural deforestation issue, but Hale shouldn’t make fun of her.
“I would love to hear more about your thoughts,” a man twice Phina’s age remarked. “Care to find a quiet place to talk?”
I tried not to react to the impression that the old Dust Bowl relic wanted to do more than talk with Hale’s little sister. I quickly tried to think of ways to bail Phina out, but before I thought up a rescue call, she laced her arm with the old geezer’s and smiled sweetly into his cloudy eyes.
“Of course, Carlisle.”
What the?
I glanced up at Hale, silently horrified, but he appeared completely unaffected by the bicentennial age gap.
The group of men dispersed and I clutched his arm. “Aren’t you the least bit concerned that the captain of the Love Boat just kidnapped your sister?”
“Seraphina’s a grown woman who can take care of herself.”
“But…” I looked up at him in confusion. “She wasn’t flirting with that old dude, right?”
“Rayne, my sister’s dating life is not something I care to examine closely.”
I scrunched my nose. Her dating life? Gross. That man was too old to be her dentist let alone her lover. I inwardly gagged as I thought about saggy balls and days of the week pill packs.
Phina was still in her twenties and beautiful. She could have her pick of any single guy in any room. Probably even some of the married ones. This had to be about charity.
Lights flashed across the large bay window as another helicopter landed in the lawn. Several women—mostly the younger ones—crossed the room and posed casually by the French doors. A moment later, Barrett walked in and I understood why they were acting like a bunch of horny jackals.
Hale escorted me across the room to the huddle of females surrounding his brother. A very tall, very beautiful woman with fiery red hair clung to his arm.
“Hale. Rayne,” he politely disentangled himself from the hoard and brought his date forward. After shaking his brother’s hand, he turned to kiss me on the cheek. “Holy shit, look at you!” His gaze dropped to my stomach. “You’re so…huge.”
“Watch it,” Hale warned under his breath.
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks. Huge is exactly what a girl wants to hear when a man’s looking at her body.”
“Relax,” he teased. “You’re only huge in the stomach.”
“Not making it better.” I turned to his date. “You must be McKinsley. Hi. I’m Rayne, Hale’s wife.”
She glanced down at my stomach, and her gaze skated away. “Barrett, what is that smell?”
O—kay. I put my hand away.
Berrett hardly acknowledged her question. “So, how are you feeling? Do you still have morning sickness?”
“Nothing like I did in the beginning.” I watched his date place an order with the butler for something other than champagne. “Where’d you find this one, Barrett?”
“We met Saturday.”
That seemed about right. Sex with a stranger…bring her to meet the entire family for Thanksgiving. Nothing weird there. “Right.”
It occurred to me that Phina and Barrett’s mothers weren’t spending the holiday with us. “Where does your mom spend Thanksgiving, Barret?”
“I think she’s in Rome at the moment.”
I tried to lip read what his date was explaining to the wait staff. “McKinsley seems a little high maintenance.” The girl hadn’t stopped talking since they arrived. In all the time I’d been around the Davenports I’d never ordered people around the way she was. “Does she ever stop talking?”
“There are ways to quiet her down. She has a very talented mouth.”
“Gross.” I glanced up at Hale. “My feet are starting to hurt. When do we get to sit?”
“Let’s say hello to the host. Then we can find our seats in the dining room.”
The meal was an extravagant multi-course feast prepared by a team of talented chefs. The white-gloved staff delivered the luxurious dishes in an endless rotation that included lobster bisque, foie gras, and truffle risotto with wild salmon over a bed of tiny mushrooms.
Everything was presented with such flair. If the intention was to impress, they succeeded, but the company was too stuffy and pretentious to truly make the night enjoyable. However, the chocolate soufflés and crème brûlée at the end made it all worthwhile.
Each course had been expertly paired with a selected fine wine, which I couldn’t taste. A local sommelier visited each table to describe the vintage. When I declined a taste, people looked at me questioningly. Did the rich not follow the no drinking while pregnant rules or did they just not realize my situation?
“Rayne’s pregnant,” Hale eventually announced.
The table responded with a tepid round of golf applause. It felt strangely like an old Victorian novel where pregnancy wasn’t en vogue. But I had never been in style with these people anyway.