“Make one of those filo dough pumpkin pies that everyone loves—the one with the spice that I like—then have a drink, don’t let the prepster leave your side, and make them love you. Bring your awesome sauce and you’re good.” I grumbled, not sharing her confidence, and she continued. “The sex is respectable?”
“Yes,” I said, and it came out too quick, too certain for Ellie to miss the emphatic tenor of my voice.
She laughed. “Then meet his family. Just don’t get drunk and puke all over them. That would not be a good start.”
“Shut up,” I said. “I’m going into the studio. You go back to sleep.”
Here’s the problem with me: I knew how to roll with all the punches and I was exceedingly confident in most areas—put an instrument in my hands, and I’d rock your socks off—but my wobbly spots were about as strong as gravy.
When I was in that wobble, I wasn’t quite myself. I retreated, reverted, and put all of my personality in my back pocket. I was sweaty-nervous and sarcastic—not witty sarcastic, either; sharp, cutting sarcastic—and I couldn’t climb far enough out of my shell to have painless, civil conversations with anyone.
I landed in that wobble every time I went home to New Jersey, and now, standing beside Sam, pie in hand, in the elevator headed toward his brother’s loft.
I’d pushed this off all day, first devoting the entire morning to the studio and then mixing up some gingery pumpkin pies. I didn’t ignore Sam’s texts throughout the day, not entirely, but I didn’t offer any indication that I was looking forward to this exercise. I’d spent a ridiculous amount of time selecting the navy-and-poppies dress with the wide, red sash and dark leggings, and I even considered wearing heels for a split second. That was how I knew I’d really fallen in deep.
His hand traveled from my waist down my hip and under the hem of my dress. “Have I told you how gorgeous you are today?”
I let out a tense laugh and shook my head. “I don’t believe you have.”
“Well then,” he said, squeezing my ass. “You are completely fucking gorgeous, and these leggings are making me incapable of speaking coherently. I’m going to enjoy peeling those off later.”
Bunching the tail of his shirt in my hand, I drew Sam closer to me. “Don’t abandon me, okay?”
The elevator doors opened, but we didn’t move. “I’m not going anywhere if you’re not,” he said.
Sam’s brother and sister-in-law lived in one of the most posh waterfront buildings in town, and their loft was an eclectic blend of modern and vintage. It didn’t make a ton of sense, but it was awesome. I loved the funky velvet settee in front of the sleek marble fireplace, and the colorful artwork flanking the long wall of ocean-side windows.
We found everyone gathered around a long table off the kitchen, take-out cartons and wine bottles spread between them. I counted six heads—one more than I expected—but saw the threads of resemblance between them quickly.
Talk about good-looking men.
They weren’t carbon copies of each other, but I knew they belonged together. Tall and strong with glints of auburn in their hair. Sam was shorter, leaner, but he was definitely one of them.
They were laughing hysterically and didn’t notice us until Sam cleared his throat.
A little blonde popped up from her seat and scrambled over to us. “Hi,” she squealed. “You must be Tiel. I’m Lauren, and I’m so happy to meet you. Come on, sit down.”
Lauren cooed over the pie I handed her, squeezing my shoulders and insisting I didn’t need to bring anything but that she adored every variety of Thanksgiving dessert. She steered me toward a seat and loaded up my glass with white wine.
“So you’ve met Patrick and Andy,” she said, gesturing to the opposite end of the table.
I glanced at them, forcing a smile. Andy was one of those ageless women who could be anywhere between twenty-two and forty-four, and would look that pristine her entire life. Sure, she might earn some silver hairs along the way, but she’d always be beautiful and unshakably cool.
“This is Matthew.” Lauren dropped her hands on his shoulders. “He belongs to me.” He tugged her onto his lap while she giggled, but that didn’t stop the introductions. “That’s Riley,” she said, pointing to the man on my left. “And Nick.”
“I’ve met you before,” Nick said, rising to shake my hand from across the table. “Where have I met you?”
“I have no idea,” I said.
Don’t be awful,I reminded myself.Talk normal. Smile.
I’d remember eyes like those. Nick was darker than Sam’s siblings, but he was equally drool-worthy. It was rather laughable how many attractive men were packed around this one table.
Smile. Stop glaring at them.
“It’ll come to me,” Nick said.
“I thought you weren’t with us today,” Sam said from the kitchen.
