Page 57 of Holding On To Good

“Fat content.”

“So it’ll be low-fat caramel sauce.”

Toby winced and Willow patted his arm in comfort. The words low-fat pained his little chef’s heart a great deal—something about sacrificing flavor to save a few calories. “I need heavy cream,” he repeated.

“This is why people think chefs are temperamental dicks,” Miles pointed out, then he turned to Verity. “Run to Sonny’s and get some heavy cream, would you?”

“I’ve had my driving privileges suspended for two weeks. I can’t drive anywhere.”

“Uh-oh,” Willow murmured, moving over to offer Verity some comfort now in the form of an arm around her shoulder. Not that she doubted Verity had earned her punishment. Urban was strict but more than fair.

“I’m sure you can be trusted to run to the grocery store,” Miles said.

Shaking her head, Verity tsked. “And risk me thinking I can get away with irresponsible, immature behavior without any consequences? It’s like you want me to end up in prison someday.”

“I’d prefer a convent,” he muttered, which earned him an impressive eye roll.

“You’re the one who messed up,” Toby said to Miles. “You should go back to the store.”

“What about my dinner?” Miles asked.

Toby flipped open the top pizza box, pulled out a slice and shoved it into his brother’s mouth. “Manga.”

Miles growled and pushed the boxes into his brother’s hands before taking the pizza out of his mouth. “You know I hate olives.”

“You’re such a baby,” Verity said and took the pizza and bit into it.

Everyone started talking at once. Toby and Miles, toe to toe, exchanging insults and threats. Verity tossing out sarcastic comments in between bites and Bella barking in excitement.

God, she’d missed these crazy people.

She’d stopped attending Sunday dinners when she started seeing Caleb over two years ago. It’d seemed wrong to go to another man’s house without him. But she hadn’t been able to bring herself to invite Caleb along, either—though all the Jenningses insisted he was welcome.

Now here she was, smack dab in the middle of a family argument before a family dinner, riveted by the ensuing drama.

But even as that truth took root, the air shifted. Thickened with anticipation. The back of her neck prickled, the hair on her forearms stood, and she clasped her hands over them.

And suddenly, she wanted to leave. She could apologize to Urban later. Tomorrow or the next day. Or maybe a card would be better, something clear and concise and to the point.

Yes. That was the answer. She’d buy him an I’m Sorry card, one with a pathetic, sad-eyed kitten on the front, and leave it on his desk to find in the morning. He’d forgive her and they’d go on like always.

Except she wasn’t leaving. No, she stayed where she was and slowly shifted her gaze to the right, just over Toby’s shoulder.

And locked eyes with Urban.

Her fingertips tingled, the sensation spreading like an electric shock. The vibration of it flowed from the top of her head to the tips of her toes in bursts of heat and sensation.

Call it what you will. Attraction. Desire. Lust. Want.

Love.

It was there. It was real.

And it wasn’t going away any time soon.

No matter how badly she wanted it to.

Willow sent Urban a small smile and sketched a wave.

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