Page 97 of Truly, Madly, Deeply

“Well, shit, son,” Dad said, smile watery. “You’re a walking green flag. Truly, honey, this one’s got some real rizz.”

Colin threw his head back and laughed.

Truly grinned.

Chapter Eighteen

“Thank you. For tonight.” Truly paused outside the gate leading to the McCrory’s backyard.

After the three glasses of nocino Colin had had, she’d insisted she walk him home; she liked him too much to let him walk home alone, lest he trip and fall into the lake.

That, and she kind of was loath to end the night and say goodbye.

“For what?” he asked. “Your parents are awesome. They’re passionate people.” His thumb swept across her knuckles. “I can see where you get it from.”

Her face warmed. Her chest, too. “That’s a nice way of looking at it. Thank you.”

“I just call it like I see it.” Colin squeezed her fingers. “They, uh, they seemed to be getting along?”

A welcome, if not bizarre turn. “I think it helped that they had a common goal of giving me as much grief as possible. It doesn’t hurt that they were on their best behavior because you were there. I think they really liked you.”

Colin cringed. “I still think I made a shitty first impression. Hey, I just got carnal with your only child, nice to meet you. Not the way I wanted that introduction to go down.”

“Your willingness to play along with our bizarro family tradition definitely won them over.”

Justin had been to her parents’ house how many times? A dozen? Two dozen times over the years? Not once had he genuinely played along with Mom and Dad’s theater games. He’d treated it like a joke, throwing out quotes at random that made no sense in a conversation. His favorite thing to shout was five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes without rhyme or reason or even very much knowledge of Rent. She’d pulled him aside once and asked what the hell he was on about. He laughed and told her that’s how long it felt like these theater games of her parents dragged on for. Jerk.

Why she’d ignored the writing on the wall for so long was honestly horrifying in hindsight.

“I had fun. Your parents are great.” He chuckled. “If it wouldn’t make dating you weird, I might be tempted to take your dad up on that adoption offer.”

“Too kinky for you?” she teased.

He sighed dramatically. “Didn’t think it was possible, but alas, we all have our limits.”

“For what it’s worth, I think they want to keep you. Which is, you know...” She ducked her chin, hiding her smile. “Handy.”

“Handy, huh?” He squeezed her fingers. “Why’s that?”

She stared at their clasped hands, at the veins crisscrossing the back of his, blue where hers were green, his fingers longer, her cuticles more ragged. She liked the way her hand looked in his, liked the way it felt even better. Colin didn’t squeeze too hard, but his grip was firm, reassuring, his thumb sweeping a constant arc against her wrist or knuckles depending on how he held her. Justin’s grip—if she could even call it that—had been limp, like he’d forgotten he was even holding her hand.

“Because I’d like to keep you, too,” she confessed, heart in her throat.

No, heart in her hand, which was conveniently nestled inside Colin’s.

He cupped her face, his little finger pressing just beneath her jaw where her pulse pounded. His touch was solid and sure, and so unlike her skipping heart, racing over one beat and stuttering on the next. No one had ever made her heart skip a beat like he did.

“Jokes aside,” he said, “I’m pretty keen on being kept by you.”

She swallowed hard, heart thundering, reveling in the firm press of his fingers against her throat, the place where she was most vulnerable, all thin skin covering squishy veins pulsing with hot blood. Anytime Justin had touched her throat some primal part of her had flinched and she had wriggled away. Yet here she was, tilting her neck up, bearing her throat to Colin and leaning into his palm, silently begging him to keep touching her.

The blunt edge of his nail raked gently against her skin, sparking a shiver. Colin cast a glance at the back of the house. He arched a brow and the left corner of his mouth rose. “You know, I’ve, uh, I’ve never snuck a girl over before.”

A laugh escaped her. “Colin McCrory, you sly dog. You want to fuck me down the hall from where your parents are probably sleeping?”

He pressed his palm to his chest, eyes wide with mock affront. “Good to know where your brain is at, St. James. I wanted to cuddle. It was kind of hard to do that in the fucking lake.”

“Oh, ho, sure. And if cuddling happens to lead to a little touching...”

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