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Hoisting the bag on my arm, I stand upright and turn around to face my mom with a steely look. Part of me had hoped to find regret or apology in her expression—even a little—but I’m disappointed to see her lips curled in a frown. A disgusted frown. The same look she wore time and time again when I was a kid. Back then, that dispassionate look would make me cry, but now I straighten my spine. My chest hurts—God, does it hurt—but I don’t want her to see that she’s affected me.
“I don’t understand you,” I say through clenched teeth. “I want to. I want to be this big happy family, and I want us to work through all these problems because I don’t want to have regrets, but I don’t understand you.”
“Let me guess, you want to be like the Wolfe family?” she demands, stepping aside as I approach the door.
Squeezing the handle of my bag for support, I walk by her, making sure my blue eyes lock with her green when I say, “No, just a functional family. And for the record, my relationship with Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe is one hundred percent real.”
To my relief, Gram takes me moving out surprisingly well, particularly when she finds out that the hotel I’m staying at until I can find an apartment is less than a few miles from the cabin she’s lived in my entire life. When she quietly asks me if I’m okay with it—which I translate as her questioning if I think she’s choosing my mother over me—I let her know I love her and we’re fine. And I even go a step further by telling her I know she’d never do that, choose Rebecca over me, and vice versa.
The day my mom realizes the solidity of the bond between me and Gram, maybe things will change. If she ever realizes it. Because right now, I can think of a thousand other miracles that’ll probably happen before my mom comes around.
With my stress-free move knocked out, I spend the days leading up to New Year’s meeting with clients—both old and new—and trying to promote my business as a wardrobe consultant and personal shopper. When Lucas calls me New Year’s Eve to let me know he’s just touched down in Nashville and will be at my hotel as soon as he picks up his car, I’m ready for the break. I close my laptop and leave it on the coffee table before padding into the tiny bathroom to check my appearance. Dressed in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, with my long red tresses piled into a messy bun, I look like crap.
Even though Lucas has assured me he wanted to spend the evening at home—well, my hotel room—I still decide to change. I go for simple and casual, dark skinny jeans, an oversized sweater, and brown boots. I’m in the process of brushing the fifty billion tangles from my hair when my doorbell rings, and immediately, my heartbeat races in anticipation.
“Good God,” I say under my breath, leaving my brush on the bathroom counter before attempting to keep from sprinting to the front door. “Only a few days away from him, and I’ve already got butterflies before the man even steps inside.”
When I fling the door open, a delicious grin stretches across Lucas’ face, which instantly draws a smile from me. Especially when I take in the way he’s dressed. Like usual, he’s clad his incredibly tall, tattooed, and muscular frame in jeans and a black-and-gray long sleeve tee, but he’s wearing the same glas
ses he’d sported several months ago when we went to a bar together.
The sight of Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe in those glasses is just about enough to make me come undone.
When I don’t say anything, he finally teases, “Don’t tell me I’ve taken your breath away.”
“Absolutely not.” I step aside to let him in. “See, I’m breathing just fine.”
“Damn, Si. Way to fuck with my ego.” But the corners of his eyes crinkle as he continues to stand in the hallway. I motion for him to come inside, causing him to shake his head. “You look too beautiful, too perfect, for me to peel your clothes off right away. I’m taking you out. At least for a little while.”
I nod slowly, and when I walk backward to grab my things, he steps into the doorway, following my movements carefully. “What would’ve happened if you found me dressed in sweats? Would you have still taken me out?” I ask with a laugh while I swipe my purse and keys from one of the end tables.
“Yes.”
Returning to him, I shift an eyebrow and he feathers the pad of his thumb across my cheek. “You’re a brave man, Lucas Wolfe.”
He brushes his lips over mine and grins. “I swear this won’t take long and then you’ll have that night at home I promised.”
Navigating through the busy, end-of-the-year Nashville traffic, Lucas probes me about my week, taking care not to ask too many questions about my move from Gram’s place and focusing all his attention on my business. I’m probably a little too enthusiastic talking about clothes, but he doesn’t mention it. A moment after he takes the exit for Brentwood—a suburb just outside of the city—he turns to me and says, “I fucking love seeing you happy, Red.”
I wrinkle my brow in confusion. “I have been happy.”
“Uh huh.” He turns into a residential area. “Bullshit.”
Frowning, I twist completely in my seat to stare at him. “What do you—?”
“You haven’t been yourself since your mom came back into the picture. This is the first time I’ve seen you this … relaxed in a long ass time.”
I stroke his thigh. “I’m always happy with you. You know that.”
“Careful,” he warns in a sexy growl. “You’re gonna change the course of our night real fast doing shit like that.” He closes his fingers around mine, dragging my hand up several inches. He leaves it to rest on his chest, where his heartbeat thumps steadily beneath the fabric of his shirt.
I start to speak, but then he pulls into a circular driveway, stopping and turning off the ignition once we’re in front of a large brick house that’s still decorated in festive red and green. I let the bright, cheery Christmas lights dazzle me for a few moments before asking Lucas, “Another one of your colleague’s parties?” He moves his head slightly, and I worry my bottom lip between my teeth, staring down at what I’m wearing. “Should I have dressed up? It looks like we’re early, so maybe we should go back to my room to—”
He gathers my face in his, pulling me close to him, and I breathe him in. “Relax, Si. You’re perfect. You always have been.”
His response only makes me worry more as we walk to the front door together, but he gives me a reassuring smile as we step into the luxurious house. To my surprise, it’s utterly quiet. And empty, with no furniture, photos or decor in sight. Touching his finger to my lips to quiet the question burning the tip of my tongue, he takes my hand in his and guides me through the house.
“I know we’ve wondered a lot about where we’d live after everything was said and done, but there’s no rule saying we have to stay in one place, Si. We’ve got my place in L.A. and the vacation house in the mountains, but I wanted a home where your heart is too.”
