Page 26 of Tangled with the Tight End

Fuck. Get your head out of the clouds.

“No, Son, you need someone like Norah for you. Someone who wants you for you and not the number on your shirt or the number in your bank account. Someone kind and sweet.”

I bite back a chuckle. Norah is kind and sweet, but it’s underneath a lot of layers of snark, at least around me. But what he’s saying holds more appeal than I dare to admit. Norah would be the perfect wife and mother. Except I’m not in the running for perfect husband material.

twelve

NORAH

Thanksgiving Day

After I pickup my parents in my SUV, I back out of their driveway and turn right. Eden’s place is only a few blocks away. Everything in Evergreen Lake is only a few blocks away. My dad sits beside me, always ready to help me navigate, while my mom is tucked in a back seat with a cake container on her lap.

“What do they even have for an Italian Thanksgiving dinner?” My mom pats her hair. “I suppose it’s lasagna and bread.”

“Don’t fret, Mom. There will be a turkey.” I fight back a smile at her obvious trepidation. Eden wanted to impress her parents-in-law by adding some of their dishes to the Thanksgiving feast, but my parents won’t need to revolt. There will be plenty of traditional ‘American’ meal choices as well.

“Good. I don’t mind switching things up a little, but no turkey or stuffing….” She shakes her head. “I’d have to draw the line there. The Mitchells are having dinner at 3. We can always leave early and go there if we’re starving.”

My mom and Sawyer’s mom grew up together, so we wouldn’t be unwelcome guests if we showed up there unannounced.

“It’s going to be fine.” I flip on the blinker and turn to the right.

“Cordelia, stop fussing.” My father glances at her in the rearview mirror. “You act like you’ve never had Italian food before. It’s not raw fish.”

“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s not like you weren’t bellyaching this morning while getting out of the shower. You were as worked up as I was about the menu.”

“Okay, you two.” I tap my fingertips on the steering wheel. “Stop fussing and worrying. The food will be delicious. I was there yesterday and helped Eden finalize some of the desserts. All of it smelled delicious.”

The closer we get to her house, the harder my stomach churns, and it has nothing to do with the food choices. I can’t get Gabriel out of my head, and the thought of seeing him again has me in knots.

Logically, I know there’s no chance of a relationship because after Christmas, he’s going to fly back home, and I won’t see him again for two or three years. But the foolish side of me wants to see him again. To feel the butterflies fluttering in my belly. To lose my breath when he looks at me. To feel my toes curl when he brushes against me. To….

Stop. You sound like a silly schoolgirl. But that does nothing to erase the fact that last night’s dreams were filled with him. His hands caressing me. His tongue and mouth devouring me. Heat curls in my core until it’s a steady drumbeat. The way his body slammed into mine, our gasps filling the room.

I woke up in a sweat, and the only relief I experienced was my fingers caressing and teasing my clit until I bucked wildly onthe bed with his name falling from my lips. I count to ten as I navigate the next street.

Don’t get your hopes up. He doesn’t belong here. And I don’t belong there. We don’t fit together no matter how exquisitely he fills me in my dreams.

“How are the new business ventures progressing?” My father taps the toe of his shoe on the floorboard. The man refused to branch out when he owned the bistro, so every change I’ve made has been met with… Not disapproval. That’s too strong of a word. More like apprehension. Or questioning.

“It’s going well. The specialty coffees are a hit at the bistro, and the lodge sales show a profit.”

“Well done, dear.” My mom smiles in the rearview mirror. “I repeatedly told your father to do something different over the last twenty years, but would he? No. He always frowned and looked at me like I was growing wings out of my shoulder blades. He had to do everything the same. Morning. Noon. And night.”

“Cordelia,” he says with censure in his voice. He swings his head around to face her. “I like things the way they are.”

“Yes, I know.”

“If something’s working, why change it up? It’s not like you complain about some of my tendencies.”

My mother’s cheeks darken. “You’re right.”

I cringe as the tension in the vehicle intensifies. Ugh. They’re no longer discussing how the toilet paper goes on the holder or where he takes off his shoes.

“I know I am.” He arches an eyebrow.

“Don’t.” I glare at them both as I approach Eden’s house. “I don’t want to hear it.”

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