Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 56961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“Pfft, I don’t need that,” she said, growing loud enough to begin gathering everyone’s attention. “Listen up, everyone. I wanted to do something special to celebrate this gathering of friends and family. As you all probably know, family means…” She cleared her throat and waved away Harold’s attempt to comfort her. “A lot to me. And what better way to celebrate ours than with a decadent shared meal and some caroling and dancing? I’m not going to prattle on, but I wanted to invite everyone to kick back, eat up, sing your heart out, dance your feet off, and enjoy this rare moment in time when as many Wildes and Marians are gathered together as possible.”
Everyone held their glasses up to join her in a toast that was quickly followed by cheering. Some of the parents of little kids pulled them onto the dance floor to show them some steps, and the rest of us stood around talking and drinking while the live music started.
It was a lovely night full of celebration. I pulled Miller onto the dance floor as soon as a tune began that lent itself to the moves I knew.
“Swing?” Miller asked in surprise when I moved him through the steps.
“I took a few classes with some of my friends at culinary school. They were cheap since our group was willing to go in the middle of a workday,” I added. “Unfortunately, when you work in the food industry, you miss out on the good nightlife. You’re either working nights and weekends or working so early in the morning, you’re in bed by eight.”
Miller was a good dancer and knew how to follow my lead. It made me naturally curious about who he’d danced with before. I bit my tongue to keep from asking since I knew I wouldn’t be able to say it without sounding like a jealous ass for the second time in one evening.
I’d never felt as possessive of Clay as I already did of Miller. Why was that? And was it a bad sign of some kind?
“Rebecca Marian keeps a close eye on you,” I said, noticing the woman smiling affectionately at us from where she danced with her husband.
“She reminds me of my mom. She’s very kind and attentive.” The emotion was clear in Miller’s voice, but I sensed the dance floor wasn’t the place he wanted to reveal it. I dropped the subject and moved to something else.
“I heard you guys went tubing. Was it fun?”
That did the trick. Miller’s face lit up as he told me about the sensation of flying down the mountain and watching his cousins do the same.
“I think I might want to come back here when the slopes open for skiing and take a few lessons,” he said, avoiding eye contact with me.
I moved a finger under his chin and lifted it up so he was forced to look at me. “You’ll stay with me when you do,” I said softly but firmly. “Okay?”
His rosy lips widened into a big smile. “If you insist.”
We talked about Mikey and Tiller’s plans for the ski resort as we continued our dance. When the song ended, I moved us off the dance floor and over to a cluster of Miller’s cousins, where I recognized the tattoo artist I’d talked to the other night.
“Nico, good to see you again.”
The ink-covered man reached out a hand to shake. “You too. Merry Christmas Eve. Glad you could make it.”
As we picked up our conversation about ink from the other night, I felt the smooth slide of Miller’s hand in mine. I glanced over to find him listening to his cousin Sassy. She spoke animatedly about Miller’s work with me in the bakery, asking him questions about how I worked and what kind of equipment we had in the kitchen. Miller replied in short nods and one-word answers like he was distracted, and I wondered if he was thinking of his mom. Rather than butting into the conversation, I squeezed Miller’s hand lightly in support, then turned back to Nico and asked him more questions about a design we’d begun discussing.
“Do you ever travel for commission work?” I asked.
His eyes widened. “Well, yeah, but it’s usually for celebrities and shit. I charge an arm and a leg.”
His husband leaned in. “He doesn’t trust me alone with the girls.”
Nico rolled his eyes. “Okay, well… he’s not lying. Still. It’s a little rich for the average Joe.”
Tilly must have overheard because she murmured something in his ear before walking away again. Nico’s eyes met mine. “You own Dough?”
I shot a quick glance at Miller to see his reaction, but he hadn’t heard. He was still busy talking to Sassy.
“Not anymore,” I explained. “I sold it almost a year ago.”
West’s forehead crinkled. “Wasn’t that the place you took me to in New Orleans? The one we had to stand in line for?”