Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
I bristle as the pantry door slams. I knew when I agreed to let them host a gathering that I would be giving up my weekend of relaxation and peace after a long, busy workweek. But I’m willing to make that sacrifice. Repairing my relationship with my son is worth the minor inconvenience upon my schedule.
Leaving the comfort of my private office, I follow the sounds of frenzied mixing and chopping into the kitchen where I find Oliver and Natasha locked in a discussion about condiments. I lean against the door frame and wait for them to finish, letting my gaze roam over her bare, shapely legs.
Natasha catches me staring, her smile lighting up the room. “Hi, Dr. Ransom.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “We share a vacation home, Natasha. You can call me Evan.”
“Sure,” she says. “Just as soon as you start calling me Nat.”
My lips curve upward before I can school them straight.
“Are you planning to eat with us?” Oliver’s cool demeanor stands in stark contrast to Natasha’s warmth, but I don’t let it get to me. I knew rebuilding our relationship would take time and effort.
“Of course he’s welcome to eat with us,” Natasha says, shooting Oliver a firm look. “He’s letting us host a barbecue at his house.”
“Thank you, Natasha,” I say with a grateful smile. “But I plan on eating dinner in my office. I just wanted to remind you that while I’m allowing you to serve beer at this party, that doesn’t mean I’m condoning underage drinking.”
I can’t help but look at Natasha.
“Five people hardly counts as a party,” Oliver mumbles.
Natasha ignores him and nods in understanding.
“I won’t drink,” she says. “I promise.”
“Good.” I watch her for a moment longer, taking in the swish of the blue sundress as it twirls around her bronzed thighs.
“Is that all you wanted to say?” Oliver asks, looking impatient.
I force myself to look away from Natasha as a knot forms in the pit of my stomach. It’s not the drinking I’m worried about, although that certainly is a factor. It’s the fact that I don’t know whether she intends to have sex during this party, and I can’t ask her about it without coming off as inappropriately invested in her sex life.
Probably because I am inappropriately invested in her sex life.
“I’ll be in my office if you need me,” I tell them.
I steal one last glance at Natasha’s backside. The thought of another man grabbing handfuls of her voluptuous ass sends a flood of hot jealousy coursing through me. I stride back to my office before I have a chance to do something ridiculous, like drag her to my bedroom and lock her inside, away from the undeserving pricks who wouldn’t know a clitoris from a coccyx.
Three guests arrive over the next half hour. Two guys and a girl, all around Oliver and Nat’s age.
I watch them out on the deck through the window in my office. One of the guys is clearly interested in Oliver, but he’s not the one I’ve got my eye on. Natasha smiles prettily at the two remaining guests, and although she’s clearly friendly with both, it’s the lanky guy with chin-length hair who can’t take his eyes off her assets.
My book all but forgotten, I watch the group eat and socialize.
After a little while, they strip down to their swimsuits and head down to the dock for a swim. Natasha is flawless in her light-blue bikini, her soft belly and thick thighs glistening in the afternoon sun. Her laughter echoes up from the dock where she and the other girl splash and chase each other.
Just when I’m starting to feel like a creepy old man for watching them, the guy with long hair wraps his arms around Natasha and pulls her into the water.
My book drops to the floor as I leap up from my chair.
Natasha isn’t yours, I remind myself. You have no claim on her. She invited this guy to the lake house because she wants him here.
I watch Natasha climb back onto the dock wearing an expression of annoyance. The long-haired guy tries to follow her up the ladder. At the last second, she turns and pushes him into the lake with a self-satisfied smile.
My chest rocks with a sharp, sudden laugh.
Good girl.
Later, after the group has finished eating, I slip out of my office and make my way to the kitchen to fix myself a burger. Conversation drifts into the house through the screen door. I hear my son and his companion, as well as their female friend. But I don’t hear Natasha or the long-haired guy she pushed into the lake.
Where the hell could they be?
My pulse kicks into high gear as I glance out at the dock. No one there. I check the living room and then backtrack to Natasha’s bedroom. Both empty.