Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Brendan laughs. “I was thinking that to myself this afternoon. I’m surprised you haven’t asked your mom.”
“It’s funny. I consider myself a member of the Steel family, and I love my parents dearly, but living here in town instead of on the ranch, with my own business independent from their money, I forget about the amazing resources I have available. My mom is one of them.”
“The bakery’s closed tomorrow. Why don’t we go see your mom?”
“We?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind. I basically got the same message via Hardy Solomon.”
I chew on my lip, play with my lip ring. “That’s true…but…”
He trails his finger over my cheek. “But…you don’t really want to explain to them what you’re doing with me.”
“No. It’s not that. Not really.” I stare at my wineglass. “It’s just… This is private between us, Brendan. I’m not ready to make it public yet.”
“Make what public, exactly?”
“That we’re…” My face is on fire. “Going out, I guess?”
“We are going out, Ava.”
“Well…yeah…but…”
“It’s okay to take a chance.” He closes the short distance between us, fingers a lock of my hair, and tugs it a little. “I’m serious when it comes to you.”
I bite my lip again. “I… I’m serious too.”
Why is that so hard for me to say?
I didn’t go looking for Brendan. He came to me. But my God…last night…
I didn’t follow the advice of the cards.
I let myself get swept away.
The card was urging caution so I wouldn’t get hurt.
Is Brendan going to hurt me?
I can’t ask him that. What guy in his right mind would say Yes, that’s my plan. To hurt you”?
“You know what?” I say. “I’d love it if you would come with me. Let me text my mom and see if she’s got some free time tomorrow to talk to us.”
I grab my phone, which is hooked up to a charger in the kitchen, and send Mom a quick text.
Hey, Mom. I’d like to come talk to you tomorrow. Do you have any time?
She texts back almost immediately.
For you? Always. Why don’t you come have lunch with Dad and me?
I bite my lip. Ponder what to say.
I kind of just want to talk to you alone.
Is everything okay, sweetie?
I’m fine. But Brendan Murphy and I need to talk to you.
Brendan Murphy?
I’ll explain it all tomorrow. Maybe you should come into town.
I can do that.
Perfect. I’ll make your favorite sandwich. See you around noon?
It’s a date.
“Okay,” I tell Brendan. “My mom’s coming here tomorrow. To the bakery. So you come over at noon, and I’ll make us all some sandwiches. We can talk to her then.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BRENDAN
The food smells so good, but I hardly taste it. All I can remember is the taste of Ava’s pussy.
I would love to take her to bed again, but I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do.
I like this woman. I like her more than I’ve liked anyone in a long time—and like isn’t even the right word, but I can’t quite say the other L-word yet—and I don’t want to screw it up. Even if it means the inevitable blue balls.
Taking a woman to bed on the first date is never a good idea, but I did it anyway.
I did it because I wanted her so much.
I take another sip of the crisp white wine. “Your dad does know how to make a good wine,” I say.
“Yeah, he has a gift.” Ava swishes the light-amber liquid around in her wineglass. “My uncles all think it’s funny because none of them have any creativity at all. Seems my dad got all of it.”
“Not just your dad. Marjorie, as a chef, must be very creative.”
“True. But Uncle Joe and Uncle Talon have no artistic talent of any kind.”
“You do, though.” I raise my glass. “Obviously you got creativity from your dad and your aunt. I mean, you’re an amazing baker.”
“Thank you.” Redness creeps to her cheeks.
“Everyone talks about it in town,” I continue. “How you make the best baked goods they’ve ever tasted. And how you’ve done it all on your own without using your family’s money.”
“Everybody knows about that?”
“Yeah, pretty much. Is that an issue?”
She shakes her head. “I’m used to the whole town talking about me. That’s what they do when you’re a Steel.” She shifts in her chair.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t. Like I said. I’m used to it.”
I twirl pasta around my fork, trying to get it to stay on without strings hanging down.
Ava smiles at me. “I gave that up years ago. Just cut it with your fork first.”
I laugh. “That’s what I normally do, but I wanted to impress you with my Italian food prowess.”
“You don’t have an ounce of Italian blood in you, Murphy.”
“No. I don’t think I do. I’m all Irish on my dad’s side. And there’s a little Irish on my mom’s side, along with some Scottish and English. Totally a son of the British Isles.” I chuckle.