Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
All three women chuckle. “That’s so gross. What did you do?”
“Threw him in the elevator and closed the doors before he could get out. We always stayed on locked floors so he couldn’t get back in without a code.”
June sips her wine and watches me with that slow, measuring gaze. “Were you always in that line of work?”
“No, ma’am,” I say. “Started in construction, but it wasn’t for me so I decided to give security a try.”
She nods, as if she’s filing that away for later. “Where’s your family?”
I hesitate a half-second, then say, “Just me. I’m an only child. My parents died a long time ago.”
Naomi squeezes my hand under the table. She knows this part, but it’s still not fun to say out loud.
June’s voice softens, just a little. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you.”
I shrug and add. “Roman Sterling is technically my cousin. And a few others, but they’re mostly scattered or boring. I don’t see them much.”
Naomi jumps in, steering the conversation. “Wyatt’s house is amazing, Mom. He’s got a grill that’s probably bigger than your car.”
“I’m hoping he’ll let me try out his grill one day,” June says, but there’s a glint in her eye now. A challenge, but a fun one.
“You can use my grill any time.” I tell her. “Consider it a family grill.”
For a while, we eat and talk about nothing important. Casey describes her disaster of a prom date and her ex-boyfriend. I already hate the little motherfucker who dared to break her heart. I make a mental note to find out more about him in case I need to teach him a lesson in the future.
June explains her obsession with learning French via podcast and I ask her demonstrate her skills. “Parlez-vous français?” She asks me if I speak French.
"Only,” I draw on my very limited French, “où est la salle de bain.” I made sure I knew how to find the bathroom in every country Steel Pulse every toured.
“That’s a pretty good thing to know.” She laughs and I relax feeling at home. The jokes fly, the wine flows, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m not just visiting someone else’s life.
After dinner, June makes coffee and brings out a chocolate pie. Casey demolishes her slice in under a minute, then starts scrolling her phone. Naomi helps her mom clear the table, their movements so in sync I realize they’ve been doing this dance their entire lives.
I end up alone with June at the table, the low hum of voices in the background. She watches me, then says, “You seem like a good man, Wyatt.”
I hold her gaze. “I try. Most days, I don’t screw it up too bad.”
She sets her cup down and leans in. “If you hurt my daughter, I’ll make your life living hell—”
“I won’t,” I say, cutting her off. “I love Naomi more than life itself. I’d rather cut off my own hand than cause her any pain.”
She nods, then sits back, satisfied. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”
A minute later, Naomi comes back, cheeks flushed from the kitchen heat. “Ready to go?” she asks, but the way she says it makes it sound like a question only I can answer.
I stand, thank June, and promise Casey I’ll come back with stories about the club next time. Casey smirks and says, “Don’t forget to invite me to your next security breach.”
Naomi walks me to the door, fingers laced through mine. Outside, the air is cool and full of night-blooming flowers and the faintest hint of cut grass.
“I’m sorry if that was—” she starts.
“Don’t be,” I cut her off. “They’re great. You’re great.”
She smiles, then kisses me, slow and careful. “Drive safe.”
“I’ll text when I’m home.”
I walk back to my SUV feeling lighter than I have in years. I drive home with the windows down, the night air sharp and sweet, and the taste of her lips on mine.
For the first time, I start to believe in things like luck. And maybe, just maybe, love at first sight.
The first thing I notice when I get back to my house is how goddamn quiet it is. Fucking hell, I need to find a way to convince Naomi to move in before I lose my goddamn mind.
A few days later, Naomi steps in and slips off her shoes by the door and drops her purse on the counter. She pads across the living room floor like she’s lived here all her life warming me up from the inside out. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie I gave her last week, the sleeves swallowing her hands, and she looks so fucking cute it physically hurts.
She grins, then tucks herself into the corner of the couch. “Sit with me?”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I drop onto the sofa and wrap my arm around her shoulders.