“Mine.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. But by the way Cole was looking at her—he didn’t give a shit if he announced it to the world and then forced her to wear a T-shirt that said PROPERTY OF BRANT WELLINGTON.
Right, because that wouldn’t piss her off.
It wasn’t as though he owned her.
God, he wanted to, though.
Hell, he’d do anything to be owned by her.
She was wearing a simple black cocktail dress that fell just above her knees. It had capped sleeves and hugged every curve of her body. He nearly groaned when he saw a sliver of skin through the cutouts on the side of the dress. What he wouldn’t do to be able to put his tongue in that spot right above her hip.
“You came.” He reached for her hands and lifted them to his lips, kissing the backs of each of them and then squeezing, his body refusing to let go.
“Why do you keep sounding so surprised when I show up?”
He pulled her in for a hug and whispered, “Because every time you walk away, it feels like the last.” He kissed the side of her neck. “And then I spend the night in agony until I see you again, only for the process to repeat itself.”
“You’re getting too good at this seduction thing.” She moaned low in her throat when his mouth met hers in a too-brief kiss. “It’s a bit terrifying.”
“My ability to romance you?”
“Or maybe just my ability to fall for it.”
“Touché.”
He looped her arm through his and led her to her seat at the table. He’d planned everything.
Thanksgiving dinner. A redo from the past.
The only thing he didn’t repeat was the candles. He hated them—and the last thing she needed was to be near fire, not after what had happened. Maybe it was just Brant who was irrationally angry at anything fire related, but he didn’t want to take any chances that he’d ruin her night.
Again.
“Date number?” She asked once he gently showed her where her water glass and wineglass were.
“Thirty-seven.” He placed a napkin in her lap. “But remember, still only date two for us.”
“For the after.”
“Yeah. The after.”
“And how many of these are we going to get?”
“Two more.” He watched her face fall. “But I promise they may just change your life.”
“Let me guess: One of us gets naked?”
He barked out a laugh. “For that, you get extra dessert and wine.”
“Wow. I get rewards for good behavior?”
“Always,” he teased, his voice rough.
She giggled behind the wineglass she’d just picked up and nodded. “So you want me to be good….not bad?”
He groaned. “Shit, that backfired.”
“Totally.”
“I’m rusty.”
“Wow, that’s romantic. Tell me more.”
“I’m from the future?”
“Nice try. It only works once, Casanova.”
“Damn it.” He pounded the table with his fist in a playful gesture, gaining the attention from all of his shocked family members. Margot watched him a minute longer than everyone else, tears in her eyes.
That woman, with her penetrating green eyes, saw way too much. She nodded toward Brant and then continued talking to Bentley.
Was it only a few weeks ago that in a drunken stupor he’d confessed some of his secrets to Margot? Pushed her into the arms of his brother?
Brant was just about to speak when Grandfather clinked his glass and stood.
Oh hell. Speeches were definitely not part of the plan.
He shot Nadine a worried look, but she was too busy staring up at Grandfather with doe eyes, clasping her jeweled hands together like he hung the freaking moon.
“I have something to say.”
“Whiskey,” Bentley coughed. “Quick, more whiskey.”
Brant gripped Nikki’s hand and waited for the inevitable. Well, at least his grandfather really was repeating history. Only at the original Thanksgiving dinner, he’d stormed out of the house after telling Brant they were too young and were ruining their lives.
Fun times.
Maybe Bentley was right about the whiskey. If this was going to be anything close to what happened last time, he’d need to bathe in it in order to forget the hurtful words, the things said.
Everyone was tense. Even Brock’s smile was frozen on his face as he looked between Brant and Grandfather.
“I was wrong,” Grandfather announced. And then sat right back down and continued talking to Nadine, his ruddy cheeks going darker, like the conversation they were having shouldn’t take place anywhere near the kids’ table, or any table for that matter.
Brock smirked while Bentley rolled his eyes and gave Brant a knowing look: See? I told you he wasn’t out to ruin all of our lives!