Page 92 of Sweet Oblivion

I feel him before I see him.

Ryker’s hand slides to the small of my back as we stand in front of the vineyard, waiting for dinner to begin. “Delaney, I have someone I’d like to introduce to you.”

I spin in his hold, everyone else forgotten, and smile when I find an older woman with her arm tucked in his. Her silver hair is pinned up in a beautiful chignon. And her face tells the story of a long life. A long, happy one, I hope. She smiles wryly when she drops Ryker’s arm and reaches for mine.“My grandson should have brought you by the house before now, Delaney. How are we going to be good friends if he hides you away from us?”

Her blue eyes, the color of Ryker’s, look from me to him with a sneaky glint as Ryker leans in and presses a kiss to my ear. “I’m sorry I didn’t get home in time for us to come over together.”

“It’s fine. But I have something I want to talk to you about later,”I whisper.

“Everything okay?”

I nod and kiss his cheek before turning back to his great-grandmother. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Beneventi.”

“Oh, dear, you call me Nonna.” She looks at me and hopefully likes what she sees. “You need to come to the house. My grandson isn’t feeding you enough.”

Ryker laughs, and my heart settles for the first time in hours.

“Come,” she says, patting my hand in hers, already turning. “Everyone’s waiting.”

Everyone . . . She definitely got that right.

The table is massive and full. Of people and food.

Ryker pulls out an empty chair next to his father and helps Nonna into it, kissing her cheek, then gently escorts me to the center of the table where our chairs sit. His hand in mine, warm and strong and possessive in a way that shouldn’t feel as good as it does. But faked or not, it really does.

“You were late,” I murmur, my breath fanning his ear once we sit, a smile tugging at my lips because this man looks incredible. He’s in another suit. Navy blue and fitted beautifully to his muscular frame. “But you clean up nice, so I’ll let it slide just this once.”

“Oh yeah,” he whispers back, his grin cocky and delicious. “I can think of a few ways I can make up for it later.”

“Lesson number three?” I ask without signing. No one needs to ask me what that means, even if I’m a little too excited at the possibilities.

And this man just shrugs and laughs at something Hendrix says to his right.

I’ll remember that later.

Dinner starts, and voices overlap. So many voices. Kingston voices. Beneventi voices. Friends’ voices. Happy ones. Loud ones. Laughter ebbs and flows, and all the while, I sit, taking it all in. I’ve never been to a dinner like this.

I’m not sure I ever expected to. And that was fine with me. I knew my place in the world before this man came into it and turned it upside down.

I’m hyper aware of every move he makes.

No matter who he’s speaking with, his hand finds my wrist. My back. My fingers. Like he needs to make sure I’m here and I’m safe.

And I get it because I feel the same.

This man who saved my life and is now at risk of ruining his.

Wine flows . . . and flows . . . and flows.

Damn. Ryker’s family likes wine. More than one joke is made about me being pregnant because I don’t drink, but my husband-to-be shoots them down quickly, setting his cousins straight in a way that makes me respect him more than I already did. Not an easy feat.

His brother taps a fork to his wine glass and smiles. “Speech.”

Of course there are speeches.

My face pales. Please don’t let them expect me to make one.

Ryker sighs and squeezes my hand. Like he expected this, even if he doesn’t really want to do it. He stands, looking around the table, his smile stretching across his face like he was born for this. To command attention. “I’m not big on speeches.”