Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Possibly another date?
Michelle would never stop rubbing it in my face, but God, I hope so.
I’m brought up short by someone stepping in my path and I look up to see an older man glaring over my head at Ethan. He’s as tall as my date with a chest twice as wide and a slight belly, but he looks powerful and without yield. That might be because of the iron-gray hair with eyes the same color and hard set to his jaw.
“I want to see my granddaughter,” the man says, and it’s then I realize this must be Lionel Mardraggon. “We have rights as her grandparents.”
His wife is not at his side but I assume she’s here as he doesn’t seem the type who would be bothered with events such as this. Just based on this short interaction, he doesn’t seem to have an ounce of fun in him.
“The court thinks otherwise,” Ethan says smoothly, and I’m a little alarmed that his hand drops from my back and he moves to stand slightly in front of me.
Does he think Lionel will throw punches and I might get caught in the middle?
“The court didn’t address visitation,” Lionel snaps.
“Exactly.” Ethan’s chin tilts upward with defiance. “Which means the judge didn’t think it was appropriate.”
“I’ll rectify that then.” Lionel leans toward Ethan and lowers his voice. “I’ll take this to court, but you’ll regret fucking with my family. Don’t think I’m going to let any of this pass.”
I brace for some scathing comeback, but Ethan inclines his head and in a polite tone that I’m astonished he can muster, he says, “Have a good evening, Lionel. Give my regards to Rosemund.”
Ethan takes my hand, pulls me away from the angry man and leads me through the ballroom and out the door. His strides are long and I can tell he’s irritated from that exchange.
“Hold up,” I say, as I need to break into a trot to keep pace with him.
“Sorry,” Ethan says, running a hand through his dark hair as he slows down. His other hand stays firmly wrapped on mine though. “That man pisses me off like no other. I know you didn’t witness it, but he treated Sylvie so poorly I have no clue why he wants to spend time with her. You can tell there’s no love between them so he must be playing a game with me.”
Based on my conversation with Sylvie, this all jibes, but I think I have a different perspective to offer. “You might want to consider letting them see her.”
Ethan comes to an abrupt halt and turns to face me. I’m glad to see curiosity and not anger over the suggestion. “Why’s that?”
“They’re the last connection she has to her mother. And while I agree that she doesn’t have a deep connection with the grandparents, she does love her uncle Gabe.”
Ethan sighs, rubs at his jaw. “I don’t want to ruin any gains we’ve made with her.”
“I don’t think it will. I think you’re seeing authentic Sylvie now. She’s starting to trust in you and your family, and I believe she’s decided to make her own judgments and not listen to what others are saying. But she’s not my daughter, so feel free to disregard what I just said.”
“No,” Ethan says quickly. “I trust your opinion. I trust it more than mine. I’ve got to call Gabe on the trust and winery, so maybe I’ll talk to him about it then. Thank you.”
“Sure,” I reply, realizing that while we’ve stopped walking, Ethan hasn’t let go of my hand. He holds it all the way to his car and then we’re headed to my house.
We chat some more about Sylvie on the way, Ethan running potential scenarios where he would be comfortable with her spending time with the Mardraggons, but with every mile closer to our destination, I get more nervous.
This is it… the end of our date.
Will he kiss me? Do I invite him in for a drink? Does that seem slutty, as if I’d let him get into my pants so soon? Or maybe I would let him?
“Here we are,” Ethan says and I blink out of my thoughts, realizing he’s at the curb in front of my house. He doesn’t shut off the car but exits the driver’s side, only to trot around to my door and open it. Offering his hand, he helps me step out and then escorts me up to my front porch.
My guts swim with nerves, not silly little butterflies, and I wonder if my breath smells bad.
Hell, I wonder if I still know how to kiss a man. I never gave Jeff Timmons the chance for a good-night kiss. George was the last man I’ve lip-locked with.
When I’m under the glow of the porch light, Ethan squeezes my hand and stares down at me. “Thank you again for going with me tonight. I had a nice time.”