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She huffs and then pulls me into a hug.
“He has fabulous taste in clothes. I can tell that already.”
I preen at that, because yes, I do.
“Well, come in. Come in! Your sisters are in there slaving away on the food. And your brother has been grumbling, wanting some male company. And I don’t know where your father is…I swear to god, that man. He disappears at the most important times. Like a ghost.”
Tomas laughs and then pulls me inside, his hand searing a print on my forearm. God, imagine if he ever lost his mind and touched me somewhere else. Like my dick. It would fall off. I’d be dickless.
What a tragedy for all mankind.
I must never let that happen.
“Come on. Let me get you a drink. What do you want?” Tomas asks me.
“Are you talking about a drink drink or adrink?” I ask, and Tomas raises an eyebrow.
“Like any kind of drink, I guess.”
“Oh, well I wouldn’t mind something fancy. Like a Boulevardier or a Bellini.”
“I don’t know what either of those are.”
I roll my eyes and smirk. “Fine. A glass of wine? A beer? I’m easy. Real easy.”
Tomas flushes and moves to a small wine fridge, pulling out a bottle and twisting the cork off. “How about some champagne?”
“I could do that? Any juice perchance?”
“Oh, you know it!” a feminine voice says. I turn and take in a female version of Tomas. Much prettier of course, but still, I can see the resemblance in the shape of their brows and the color of their dark hair.
“Hello, pretty man,” the woman says, and I extend my hand. She curtsies over it and Tomas huffs a laugh.
“My queen,” she says, and I preen.
“I love your eyeshadow.”
“And I love your blouse.”
We smile widely at one another, and she adds, “I’m Tara. Tomas’s older sister and far superior in all ways.”
I’m not so sure about that, but still, I kiss her on the back of her hand like the royalty I am.
“Well, so nice to meet you. And so glad to have been invited.”
“Oh, trust me,” Tara says and then gestures toward me. “You will be the talk of the week.”
“I love being the talk of anything….”
Tomas pulls me forward and I’m bombarded by his two other sisters Tiegan and Tabitha before my eyes settle on his brother. Tarak.
Too many T names if you ask me. I can’t keep them straight. Only thing I know is that Tarak is slightly less handsome than Tomas, but just as hot.
My eyes swivel down his muscular body, and he seems to puff out a bit as I do. He’s mighty fine in a purely objective way. If I didn’t like Tomas so much, I’d be climbing him like a palm tree. I’d be searching for his coconuts.
“Enough, guys, we just want to have a drink and relax,” Tomas interjects.
Not one of them gives us a reprieve. They swarm like flies on poop—and yes, I know what that is like. I was in Kansas after all. And then in the midst of the chaos, his father meanders in—a thin man with a mustache and graying hair. He introduces himself as Salvino and I swear to god, his handshake is as slow as a sloth’s. I have never met a person like this in my entire life, and I am immediately intrigued.
