Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Hearing him actually say the phrase his son claims is a family motto in my presence further makes me actually feel like family.
God, I hope this feeling never fades.
“Bite?” Tate lovingly offers, piece lingering close to my lips.
“You don’t wanna go first?”
“Mo stór milis before myself.”
In spite of being clueless to what it means, my heart pounds excitedly against my chest like it doesn’t need a translator to understand the Irish sentiment.
“My darling sweetheart,” he sweetly whispers the words in English prior to pushing, “now, open for me.”
And I instantly do in more ways than one.
Tate’s smug smirk indicates he got what he wanted yet rather than punish or silently reprimand, I allow myself to indulge in the delicious sight as much as the flavors whirling around my tongue. The apple – unlike his confidence – is noticeable but not overwhelming while the Bavarian cream is smooth without being overpowering. It’s quite the tasty dish and moaning about it seems to be the only response my mush mind can conjure up.
Another cocky grin occurs that tells me exactly what he’s thinking without him speaking.
He loves to hear me moan.
And he’ll be making me do it plenty soon enough.
Needing to cool down – or at the very least convince myself not to persuade him into meeting me against an apple tree for a quickie – I reach for my cup to try the punch. “What type of cake did you two have at your wedding?”
“Ice cream,” his father announces on an almost baffled chortle. “We got married in Vegas-”
“Another reason why it’s better than Australia,” Rosa inserts.
“-by Elvis, and it was free after the ceremony.” He extends his arm around the back of his wife’s chair, his position now matching Tate’s. “We got married in neutral territory so to speak; however, that just led to two big celebrations being thrown, one in Ireland with my family and one here in Michigan with hers.”
“The best part of it all – aside from double the gifts – is that some of my family actually flew to Ireland to be a part of that, and some of his family flew from Ireland to be apart the one here.” Her smile sweetens as she meets his stare. “We never thought our families would…make such an effort or even get along if they did and,” an innocent bounce of her shoulders occurs, “anytime they’ve come together, we’ve just been one big familia.”
A soft swoon is given prior to me having a sip of my drink.
Wow.
That shit definitely packs a punch.
It’s probably best I’m not the one driving.
“What about you?” Rosa tosses the question my way causing me to pause from taking another sip. “What type of wedding you want some day? Big or small?”
Oh no…
Did he not…tell them I’m divorced?
Is that really something he needed to say?
Is it even something I should say now?
Should I just skip past it and answer the question, although, how do I answer the question when I don’t even know that I really wanna get married again someday. Like yeah, I keep picturing their last name as mine and mentally doodling it like a teeny bopper with boyband crush all over again, but I don’t know if logically…in my non-sex-stoned mind that I want marriage again. I mean, can’t I have the whole house and kid and forever love without the gown and the venue and the paperwork?
Evidently, I’ve been silent for too long because Rosa nervously laughs, “You can say neither. We won’t be offended, I swear.”
I offer her the best smile I can conjure, yet Tate lovingly places a hand on my leg at the same time he answers. “Harper’s already been married once.”
“Oh,” his mother states in utter shock, “you’re divorced?”
Nodding slowly is the only thing I can make my body do.
“Recent?” Inquires Ronan, skepticism in his voice.
Of course, now there’s a problem with me!
Before I was just the fun-loving, inspirational, slightly older woman bringing out the best in their son, but with the new information I’m the rebounding, manipulative, cougar here to just sexually drain their poor defenseless son until I’m ready to move onto my next innocent victim.
“About two years ago,” Tate informs as the gentle caresses of my thigh convince me to breathe again. “I am not a fling,” he warmly reassures the entire table – self included. “And I don’t care when or where or what kind of cake we have someday…” His green gaze guides itself to my brown. “All I want is just for us to have a someday because I love you.”
All the uncertainties and insecurities previously racing through my mind vanish in what feels like an instant, leaving me with only four words to say. “I love you, too.”
The confession catches us both off guard, yet the kiss isn’t a surprise to either. There’s a murmured sláinte again from his father that barely registers thanks to his anxious mouth parting mine. There should be reluctance and hesitation to have our tongues touch given the proximity of his parents, but the unspoken need to reiterate the proclamations I don’t think either of us were anticipating defeats reason.