Mara, somehow becoming the leader of this whole game, determined that we didn’t need to kiss each other. “We’ll just consider it a wash.”
I nodded and realized that meant it was my turn to spin. I took a look at everyone around me, the fact that they were all so much older than me swiftly sinking in. Besides Mara and the girl to my right who had spun first, there was another quiet, brunette girl who sat on the couch between Adam and Logan. I had a total of three chances to land on a girl. Otherwise, I would either land back on Adam, on Logan (my heart did a summersault at the thought), the pimply redheaded boy who sat to my right, or the guy on his other side with black hair and matching black nail polish.
I sent up a quick wish to the ceiling before grabbing the bottle. I watched for what felt like endless seconds until it finally landed on the black-haired kid.
He snapped his head in my direction and locked eyes with me, the hint of a devilish grin spreading across his face.
Instantly, I felt a heavy dread crawl through my limbs. Something about the way the kid was looking at me gave me the heebie jeebies. How old was he, anyway? He looked older than sixteen.
“You coming over here or should I go over there?” he asked, his smile wicked.
“You’re not kissing my sister.” Adam’s tone was firm.
The kid glanced up to where Adam sat on the couch. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s the game. It was her idea anyway.”
I felt Logan’s posture straighten. “Seth, knock it off.”
The boy—Seth—feigned a wounded look. “What’s with all of the hostility? Let her kiss me.”
Logan looked at me, eyes flaring with anger. “Amelia, I’m calling it. Time to scram.”
“ButLogan,” I whined.
“Amelia, I swear to God I will throw you over my shoulder and drag you up those stairs myself.” His amber eyes were full of hot fury.
The tension in the room was palpable. I felt hot tears stinging in the corners of my eyes as I stood up from my spot on the floor.
“You’re such a jerk!” I yelled, before running out of the room and up the stairs, slamming my bedroom door shut behind me.
ChapterSeven
After unpackingand hanging the few outfits I’d brought up into the closet so that they wouldn’t wrinkle, I left my room and went downstairs to find Adam making cocktails while Rachel organized a beautiful charcuterie board with cheese, salami, fruit and crackers.
“Yum.” I smiled at them as I approached the large kitchen island. “What can I do to help?”
Adam looked up at me as he expertly poured bourbon into a mixer cup. “Can you grab the club soda out of the fridge for me, please?”
“Sure,” I replied. “Rachel, do you need anything?”
She looked over at me, smiling sweetly. “No, thank you!”
I grabbed the large bottle of club soda out of the fridge and set it down on the counter next to Adam. “What are you making?” I asked, peeking inside the mixer.
“Old fashions. Want one?”
“Oh, definitely.” I nodded eagerly. “Thanks. Where’s Mom and Dad?”
“Mom went upstairs to change, and Dad is out on the back patio with Logan.” He tilted his head toward the back door. I glanced through the windows at the back of the house to where they were sitting together at the patio table, both smiling, seemingly lost in conversation. It was heartwarming, seeing them together like that. I knew it was long overdue.
I turned my attention back to the kitchen and moved around Adam to grab six lowball glasses out of the cabinet behind him, setting them down on the counter. “Thanks,” he said. “We have a couple of hours to kill before dinner. I was thinking we could play a little game of bocce ball out in the backyard.”
“Sounds fun.” He and my dad loved to play. Although more of a summer game, our family had started playing it in the snow a few years back. Depending on how much snow was on the ground, the balls didn’t usually do a whole lot of rolling, so the aim on the throw had to be much more exact. The game was undoubtedly a lot harder and usually kicked our competitiveness into high gear. “I’m just going to run upstairs and grab my coat.”
Adam was pouring the mixed cocktail into the six glasses. “Okay, see you out there.”
Back up in my room, I grabbed my coat from a hanger in the closet then looked at myself in the mirror above the dresser. I frowned at my reflection, noting that I looked windswept and tired and definitelynotcute. Not that looking cute was necessarily important—I was just with my family.
And Logan.
