Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Nope,” answers Dad.
I just shrug. Mom has always been a force of nature. I come by my dramatic tendencies and general anxiety honestly.
“Okay.” Alistair swallows hard. “I’ll just have to win her over.”
“Good luck with that,” says Dad cheerfully, opening the door. “Honey, did I ever tell you about the time your mother accidentally kneed me in the groin on our first date? At least, she said it was an accident.”
“He’s joking,” I say quickly as Dad disappears from view. “I’m like 55 percent certain that never happened. Forty-nine at worst.”
Alistair’s smile is closer to a wince. “Those aren’t great odds.”
“Hey,” I say. “I have every faith in you. You’re the most charming man I’ve ever met. Why, you charmed the pants off me just last night!”
“I do note that as one of the greatest accomplishments of my life.”
“You should. But also, it’s important to remember that it’s not my mom who decides who I date.”
“Thank you, Leannan.”
“We’ll just go in there and explain that it was all a mistake and we’re not actually getting married,” I say. “She might be a tad perplexed, but then she’ll be fine. Who knows...she might even think it’s funny.”
All he does is frown. Guess we’re not ready to think this is funny ourselves.
We head around to the backyard, where a riot of colorful flowers fills the garden beds. A fat drop of water falls on my head, making me look to the sky. Sunshine filters through the clouds like beams of light sent from heaven. Some days LA is just like that—a movie set come to life. And sometimes, if you’re really lucky, the movie in question is a romance with a happy-ever-after. More raindrops land on the cracked old walkway beneath our feet. The same one I played on as a child. It was a road for my toy cars and a canvas for my chalk pictures.
The warning drops turn into a sun shower, and Alistair takes hold of my hand. His skin is warm and his grip sure. Standing beside him forever would be fine with me. Just fine. The scent of petrichor fills the air and the world smells clean and new. Full of possibilities. Like magic, as a rainbow appears in the distance. It’s another one of those everyday enchantments. But then life gets busy, and you forget to stop and stare at the wonder. Warmth fills my chest as I reflect on how right things are in this moment. I am the fairy-tale princess holding the prince’s hand.
“You wanted to dance in the rain,” he says with all due seriousness. “It was on your wish list, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“Do you really want to do that now, with my mother waiting?”
He just nods and draws me closer. “This is more important. We might not get another chance for a while.”
“With no music?”
“I can sing if you like.”
I smother a smile. “I heard you singing Rihanna in the shower this morning.”
“And I was brilliant?”
“That is exactly what I was about to say. How did you know?”
“Just a guess. ‘Bitch Better Have My Money’ is one of my favorites. Anyway,” he says with a small smile. “Who needs music? Where’s your imagination?”
Dad chuckles and wanders toward the back door, where my mother is no doubt watching from the kitchen. They might as well be on the other side of the world, because when Alistair slides an arm around my waist, nothing else matters. He gazes down at me and wow. The feel of him and the scent of him and just everything. How does he keep doing this with such ease? We assume a waltz type position and, oh, God, I do not know what I am doing. Not dance-wise or heart-wise—which is beating double time. It’s amazing previous me was able to turn down his offer of sex the other night. I doubt I could say no to him about almost anything now.
“I never had dance lessons,” I say. “Tell me if I step on your toes.”
He spins me around with a small smile. “That’s all right. I had enough for both of us. You can tread where you like—my feet will be just fine.”
We dance in the rain with no music playing. Our own best intentions lead the way. He moves with ease and confidence, and he holds me tight. Tight enough that nothing else matters.
“Have I ever told you that your eyes are the exact same color as the California sky this time of year?” I ask.
His smile increases ever so slightly. “Are they?”
I just nod.
He looks around the yard. “So, this is where you grew up?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s nice.”
“It’s just your regular normal chunk of suburbia.”
“Yeah.” His gaze is thoughtful. “I think that’s what I like best about it.”
“Do you ever miss where you grew up in Scotland?”
He sighs. “Quite often, actually. But not enough to go back.”