Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
His blue eyes read my soul. Everyone has tells, even Dad, so he likely knows mine and is watching for whatever they are right now. I stand silently, letting him, knowing he won’t find anything but the bold, honest truth in what I’ve said.
“Can I speak now?” he asks wryly. When I tilt my head, he arches a brow. “What I was going to say is that I have watched you, worried about you, had countless conversations about you with Miranda over the years. You stay outside everything, not letting anyone too close and not giving too much of yourself to anyone or anything. Not even Grace.” He stares at me pointedly, daring me to disagree. “And I know coming from me, that’s a low blow. You’re a good father, but you could be great. You’re a good man, but you could be great. And from what I hear—from Miranda and Kayla, and hell, even Cole…” He shakes his head disbelievingly, like a one-on-one conversation with Cole was not on his bingo card for this year—or ever—and focuses again. “Is that you are doing exponentially better on all fronts. And I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to know that you are finding happiness again.” He blinks a few times, and I think my Dad might actually be tearing up. “I want that for you, so if there’s a chance this girl can make you happy, then I say grab ahold of her and don’t let go.”
I did not expect that. At all.
Like I would’ve bet my entire considerably-sized portfolio against Dad ever telling me to chase Riley. Apparently, I would’ve been wrong. And bankrupt. So thankfully, there was no bet.
“What?” I mutter, sure I must’ve misheard him.
“Time’s short, Son, and you don’t get any of it back. So make the most of what you get.”
Confused, I squint at him carefully. “Are you dying or something? Losing your mind? Because this doesn’t sound like you.”
He sighs heavily, glancing skyward as if looking for divine intervention. Instead, he says, “Just realizing that some of the choices I made, while seemingly right at the time, weren’t the choices I should’ve made. So who the hell am I to say anything about what you’re doing? If you’re happy, I’m happy for you.”
Wow. For such a simple concept, it shows a profound growth on my Dad’s part who has always insisted he knew best. I don’t ask, but I wonder if he’s going to therapy. Or listening to Chance and Samantha’s podcasts.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“I’m sure your mother’s already been scheming out there,” Dad says with a small smile, like he’s amused by Mom’s machinations, “but you should know, she intends to have Grace spend the night here under the guise of ‘letting her spend time with her great-grandparents before they die.’”
“Grandad and Grandmom okay?” I ask, just to be sure.
“They’re fine. And so am I, and Miranda,” he adds with a wry twist of his lips, finally directly answering my question of whether he’s dying. “Pretty sure she’s just playing chess with you as the pawns. And Riley as another.”
I should argue that neither Riley or I are pawns, nor should we be used as such. But I don’t, because the rest of what Dad said already hit me. Grace is staying here, and we’ll have the house to ourselves again.
Happy Thanksgiving, indeed. I intend to make Riley my feast.
“Maybe don’t look so happy to ditch Grace for the night when we go out there?” Dad suggests, and I realize I’m grinning widely.
But even as I try to school my expression into something closer to an easy smile, I can’t fight the excitement bubbling up inside me.
RILEY
We barely make it in the house before Cameron shoves me up against the wall, buries his hands in my hair, and consumes my mouth with a heated kiss that says he’s wanted me all night. His tongue dances with mine and his hands roam my body, building the desire in my belly quickly. Not that it wasn’t already at a flashpoint after spending all evening with our knees ‘accidentally’ bumping under the dining table, and every time Cameron acted like he was politely wiping his fingers on his napkin, he was running his hand up and down my thigh.
He’s been driving me crazy for hours at this point, and I’m not a woman who likes to wait.
He lays a line of kisses from my jaw down my neck, wrapping my necklaces around his hand and using them to pull me where he wants me, and like the needy-greedy girl I am, I let him. I trust he won’t break them, but I wouldn’t even care if he did. I’d trade every treasure I own for more of his kisses, more of his tongue, more of his heart.