Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
He returns dressed in muscle-hugging jeans and the shirt from this morning, and I swear he’s doing it to get a rise out of me.
Ugh. Literally.
He slings himself sexily into a chair, and in seconds he and Mum are thick as thieves, sharing gossip. When we’re done eating, Mum links her fingers and stretches her arms. “Right. I’m ready for an adventure.”
My brows ping towards my hairline, possibly reaching it when she winks at Damon and says, “What about you?”
“Some clear skies out there tonight.”
“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
My gaze pings between the two of them, and I’m starting to feel like I did on the yacht. A wee bit nauseous.
Hazel eyes land on mine and anchor there. “I’d be into seeing some stars.”
Mum’s bangles jingle as she cheers. “I loved our time on the library roof.”
Damon’s still looking at me. “I very much enjoyed the last time I was there, too.”
I flush. Damon!
“Would you like to join us?” he asks me.
“Sounds like a delightful Greek tragedy, but I’ll have to decline.”
Mum laughs, slapping her bangled hand on her thigh. “Your imagination is something else, honey. I only want to look at stars with this scrumptious youth next to me and pretend I’m a spring chick again.”
“While that sounds so much better,” I say, “I really can’t. I have to create a savoury and a sweet dish for my catering audition tomorrow morning.”
“You learned to cook?” Mum says with far too much incredulity.
Damon scrubs his hand over a grin. “Didn’t you know? He’s a culinary genius.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have told Damon every line I shared with Scott.
“In that case,” Mum says, “bring home the leftovers and we’ll picnic.”
I smile wanly and throw up a couple of thumbs. “You bet.”
Now to figure out what to make and, more importantly, how to make it. Surely there are some cookbooks on one of these shelves?
Damon clears his throat. “I’ll have to bail on stargazing. I promised to help your son land this gig.”
My head jerks to him. He winks, and a strange sense of relief floods through me. It’s not that Damon can cook any better than I can, but I like the idea of having someone . . . having someone to mentally blame when it all goes wrong.
Yes, that’s it.
“Pity.” Mum sighs. “Leon, you don’t mind if I take your bed tonight?”
“Sure. I’ll sleep here.”
“You’ll put your back out there,” Mum says, and faces Damon. “You won’t mind Leon crashing with you?”
“Not at all. In fact”—Damon’s smile lands on me and it’s positively wolfish—“I would’ve suggested it myself.”
This definitely isn’t the best arrangement, but the alternatives Mum will suggest come to mind, and her and me, or her and Damon sharing a bed seem infinitely less appealing.
“Before I head to the stars,” Mum says, “tell me, honey, how’s finding a boyfriend going?”
“Jesus, Mum.”
“That bad, huh?”
Heat claws up my face. I can see her about to suggest becoming a cat daddy and living with her.
Damon, the bastard, is smirking.
Mum reaches for the coat slung over my sewing chair and slips into it. “Have you ever thought about Damon finding you the right man?”
Say what? “What?”
“Yes,” Damon says, delighted. “Have you ever thought about me finding you the right man?”
I shake my head at him as Mum frees her curls from the collar. She pinches Damon’s cheek. “This boy has a certain way, you know. He may be able to do all the hard work luring. Like a, you know, what’s it called? Wingman.”
I love her dearly, but Christ, what is wrong with my mother?
“I’m not sure the type Damon lures would be for me.”
Damon speaks, amusement vibrating in his deep voice. “Saying I have no taste, Leon?”
“I’m saying, it’s probably questionable.”
He raises a brow as if to remind me he’s lured me before.
I nod. “Very questionable.”
Mum looks between us and there’s a curious sparkle in her gaze . . . Oh God, no. She is getting ideas, and those ideas are absolutely not allowed.
“Mum! You better head to those stars. It’ll get cloudy soon.”
She hurries out the door with nothing more than a yell over her shoulder telling us to have a good night.
Damon’s smirking at me from his chair. “Yeah, let’s have a good night.”
“I don’t like that gleam in your eye.”
“Just thinking about you finding the right guy.”
I can imagine the playboy-like tour he has in mind. Maybe a drive out to Foxton to hit a few bars, flirt with a few boys . . . He’d have fun, maybe too much. All the guys would fall to their knees for him and I’d be stuck in the middle, possibly peering over my kindle, wishing the awkwardness would stop. “I don’t like parties. Or inane chit-chat with people I’ll never see again. Which basically means I don’t like any social gatherings.”