Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
“What does that mean to you?”
“That as much as I love hearing you speak so openly of dating and having an official title, this feels, we feel like so much more.”
“I agree.”
Most people need three words to make them feel complete. I only need two from him—I agree. I lift, and he leans down, our mouths meeting in the middle. The sweet aftertaste of our admission coats our kiss, but the fire always burns within for when we’re alone again.
A throat is cleared . . . technically, three. We jump apart as if caught breaking the rules. As soon as I see our three dinner companions staring at us, my face flames like a bad sunburn after a long day at the beach. One day I can only dream that I don’t wear every emotion on my face.
It’s easy to see the resemblance between the three men—all mythological gods in their own right. And then his sister-in-law, stunning with her brown hair that reflects the lights, kind smile, and green eyes that shine despite it being night. How can a family be so beautiful?
This is actually getting a little ridiculous. I probably stand out like a sore thumb with my light hair to their dark, exempting his dad’s salt-and-pepper mix. My sky-blue eyes are the opposite of the comfort of their earthier hues.
I’m not usually one to pick apart my looks. I’m confident, even after waking up in a hospital bed with no recollection of who I am. I’ve grown to love my body even more because of what it went through. But I will say, being in the land of mythical creatures—Loch’s family—definitely makes you question who got the golden ticket in the gene pool lottery.
“Hi, I’m Lark.” She holds out her hand. I don’t know why, but I lean in and hug her. As if she was holding back before, she embraces me.
When we pull back, I say, “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Tuesday.”
She takes hold of the sleeve of her husband’s coat, and says, “This is my husband, Harbor.”
“Hello.” His eyes are similar to Loch’s—warm and inviting.
We shake hands. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” My gaze darts to Loch. “Not from him. I barely get him out of the office these days.” Nodding beside him, he adds, “But my dad said you two had quite the meeting.”
I laugh. “I know how to make a first impression.”
His dad leans forward, taking my hands in his. “Good to see you again.”
“You too, Mr. Westcott.”
“Call me Port.”
Huh. I tilt my head, unsure if I should mention it, but curiosity gets the best of me. “I’m noticing a trend with your names. Loch. Harbor. Port. They’re all associated with water.”
Loch starts to laugh. “My parents thought they’d throw all reason out the window and give us this insufferable connection for life.”
Maneuvering Lark in front of him, Harbor locks her in his arms, and says, “Or as our parents would tell the story, they already had a head start with theirs. My mom’s name is Delta.” Tipping his head in concession, he adds, “Loch, Harbor, Noah, and Marina. The teasing at school was brutal.”
Lark starts laughing and then gives him a little elbow to the stomach. Looking up at him over her shoulder, she says, “Why do I find it hard to believe you were ever teased?”
“I’m a work in progress. I wasn’t always the man you see now.”
“Yeah, okay, let’s not do this. I like Tuesday too much to risk revealing our weirdness just yet,” Loch says, chuckling with a shake of his head. He slides his arm around the small of my back and brings me to his side.
With my hand resting on the front of his coat, his words sink in. I freeze, not moving an inch, except for my eyes that jump from his brother’s widening eyes to Lark’s that look like she’s in on a secret to his dad beaming with a smile.
I think it takes those same expressions staring back at Loch for him to realize what he just said. The moment it dawns in his eyes, his hold on me tightens, and he turns us around. “Our table should be ready.” All signs of the fun he was having disappear as we start for the entrance. He mutters, “Fuck,” under his breath before he opens the door to the restaurant.
The others follow, soft laughter trailing, but we all caught what he said. That’s when I realize he was telling me the truth the best he could. I’m not just arm candy or a woman simply joining the family for dinner. I’m heart candy to him.
20
Tuesday
It’s a round table of Westcotts, and I’m happy to be a part of this dinner. With Loch’s hand resting on my thigh, and the laughs we’ve shared, I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling once. Their teasing is always underlined in respect, good humor, and love. They seem to naturally know where to draw a line and not cross it. If only my family knew the same.