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“Mack . . .” She breathes.
She can definitely feel my erection, but I’m not about to even begin to play this fun, dangerous game with my family and friends watching. Because they’re arriving, if the rumbling stop of a truck followed by London’s ear-shattering squeal ofDaddy!is anything to go by.
I don’t need to look to know curtains twitch.
So, I reluctantly release her.
Sidney’s cheeks shine with a blush. “Your mom said a fire ban?”
“Yep. Normally we’d douse this and leave it. This grill isn’t any sort of problem, but . . . you set rules, then you gotta fuckin’ follow them.” I pause. “Are they giving you a hard time?”
She picks up a reusable plastic cup and stacks it on another as she starts to clear the area of the things other’s left. “No, they’re all so welcoming.”
“About me.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Your mom had a whole bunch of questions but your sister, Rose, veered the conversation away.”
“This all too much for you?”
“No. I like it.”
I nod and start helping her stack things to take inside. She clears up like she’s done it before, like she doesn’t mind, like she’s at home.
I think that’s one of the things I like about her. She’s from money, she can be quiet, reserved, and self-conscious. But she’s not a snob. Not once has she looked down on anyone or anything to do with Norhill Tops.
She hands me a pile of cups, and I set them on a table next to the bowls and plates I’m emptying into a trash bag.
“You do?” I ask, picking up another one.
My mother likes to prepare family dinners for an army. Like she’s cooking for a feast at a medieval palace.
Sidney looks at me, pushing up her glasses. “I come from money, but the only get-together I ever went to outside college that rivals the sheer good vibes is the one Gran threw. Lots of artists and famous in their field people who all knew each other. It was wild and fun, and my mother dragged me out. So, while this might not have people smoking pot or discussing their last forays into the underworld lesbian culture in Iran or wherever, it’s got that vibe.”
“Which is?” I’m staring at her, I know. She knows, too, because she suddenly doesn’t know what to do with her hands.
I’m just fucking fascinated, that’s all.
“Authenticity. Life.” Her hand shakes as she brings the last of the stacked cups over, and I ease them from her, holding her hand in mine.
“Princess.”
I bring her hand to my lips and kiss it.
She swallows. “I think your family is great. And Rose is amazing. She’s got it together.”
“She has to since she’s gone and decided to do the impossible.”
“She’ll do it. I know I just met your sister, but she will.”
“Yeah, I know. But, Sidney?” She lifts her gaze to me. “So will you.”
“I don’t . . . I don’t know.” She swallows and looks away.
Something strikes me. She loves being here, likes my family, the vibe, and like with everything else—the rough and tumble bar, the crappy generator, the being stuck in this small town—she goes with the flow her way. But that reserve?
The self-consciousness?
I think she’s thrown by a family get-together. Like she’s still making it all fit. That party she went to? Her saying this is the other real thing is her saying something special. Her slowly giving over to it all.
