Page 13 of Pretty Relentless

“Miss Rutledge! You came!” Annabelle hollers, catching my attention.

I look up and find Ava and her grandma standing by the front door, and there’s no missing the shock on Ava’s gorgeous face. She smiles down at Annabelle, who wraps her arms around her waist and squeezes tightly, much like she did earlier in the day at the bookstore. Then, as if sensing my eyes on her, Ava looks up and meets my gaze. I swear, you can hear the sizzle of electricity as it zings through the air.

A hand comes down on my shoulder and gives a hard squeeze. “Ahhh, the teacher, I assume?”

I swallow hard and glance at my brother, who’s wearing a cocky smirk on his smug face. “Shut up.”

Quickly changing my route from the dessert table to the front entrance, I meet Ava and Betty as they’re taking off their coats. “Merry Christmas, ladies,” I say, helping hang their coats.

“Merry Christmas,” Betty replies with a warm smile.

“Sorry to intrude, but Zelda invited my grandma over for coffee and pie,” Ava says, a look of uncertainty on her pretty face.

“And we’re happy to have you,” I insist, offering my arm to the older woman. “Miss Betty, would you like some coffee? I believe my mom just made a fresh pot.”

Betty steps forward, slipping her hand around my elbow. “I would love some, dear. And Zelda has told me all about the pies,” she states, walking with me into the dining room.

Fortunately, since the kids all eat dessert in the kitchen around the smaller table and counter bar, there is plenty of room at the dining room table for our guests. “Well, it looks like she saved you a seat,” I say, pulling out the chair closest to my grandma for Betty to have a seat.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Betty says, patting my cheek. “If I weren’t so damn old, I’d be giving you my number.”

Just as I bark out a laugh, I hear a gasp and a shocked, “Grandma!” behind me.

Betty just shrugs and takes the seat. “Well, my eyesight isn’t what it used to be, but I’m not completely blind, Ava.” She gives me a friendly smile. “Zelda didn’t tell me her grandson grew into such a handsome man. You know, my granddaughter is adorableandsingle.”

Again, there’s a gasp behind me. “Stop it!” she whisper-yells at her grandma, making everyone in the room chuckle.

Smiling, I glance back, taking in Ava’s adorably red face, even though she’s trying to hide it behind her hand. Returning my attention to Betty, I flash her a charming grin. “Why, yes, Miss Betty, I am fully aware of your granddaughter’s beauty.” I give her a wink as my sister delivers mugs of coffee to Grandma and her friend.

While the rest of the adults grab dessert and find seats around the dining room table or in the living room, I give my complete attention to Ava. She’s wearing a rich, warm red sweater, and my mind instantly goes back to that night over the summer when she walked into Shiner’s Pub in that sexy as fuck red dress. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen her wear before, straight out of my wildest fantasies, really, and rekindled this massive crush I have. All night, I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she visited with her friends, celebrating Hallie’s birthday. It also fueled the actions I took on myself later that night when I was alone at home.

Now, she’s paired her red sweater with black slacks and looks so classic and beautiful. I don’t know what it is about Ava Rutledge, but I’ve never been more attracted to anyone else.

“What can I get you to drink?”

She looks up, her cheeks still stained from embarrassment. “Oh, I’m fine.”

“Come on, Ava,” I reply lightly. “Let me get you something. Coffee? Ice water? Iced tea? I think there’s some soda in the fridge too.”

“Umm, all right. I’ll have coffee.”

Giving her a quick grin, I reply, “I’ll be right back. Go ahead and grab yourself some dessert before the hooligans return for seconds.” I head into the kitchen to pour two cups of coffee.

The kids are all chatting about the gifts they received tonight and the ones they’re hoping to get tomorrow. I chuckle as I hear the oldest talk about wanting a new car, which I know he’s not receiving for Christmas, and smile as the youngest gushes about the books she unwrapped earlier. When I have two cups of coffee filled, I return to the dining room.

Ava is sitting at the seat beside her grandma, listening to the two older women chat. “Here ya go,” I reply, placing the steaming mugs down on the table. I notice Ava still doesn’t have any dessert, but her grandma does.

“Thank you,” she replies, wrapping her fingers around the mug, as if to use it to warm them up.

“You’re welcome. No dessert for you?” I ask.

“No, I’m all right,” she insists, but there’s no missing the way her eyes dart toward the array of sweet treats nearby.

“Come on, Miss Rutledge. My mom’s peach pie is to die for and is my favorite,” I insist, reaching for her chair and ready to help pull it out. “You need to try it.”

She slowly stands, and it takes every ounce of control I possess not to place my hand on her back and guide her toward the desserts. I long to touch her, but refrain, mostly because I don’t want her to feel like I’m getting handsy. I’ve never been a big touchy-feely guy, but recently, when I’m around Ava, all I want to do is get my hands on her.

When we approach the buffet table, my eyes seek out the one dessert that’s the biggest reason I come to family functions: the pie. Okay, that’s not entirely true but it’s definitely a hugepart of it. Sweet peaches, buttery, flaky crust, and a dusting of sugar that makes my mouth water.

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