Page 62 of Houston, We Have a Problem
I reach out my hand, and Houston’s dimple makes an appearance the moment we touch over the console. It’s not like I haven’t held his hand before, but this feels different. This isn’t a heated, private moment—not with Jordan back there singing what I’m pretty sure is “Kiss the Girl” under his breath. Andsince we’re heading to hang out with all of his siblings, he’s basically telling me with this gesture that this thing between us is more than an unspoken attraction.
I wish I could be as confident as I am when I’m Tamlin and tell him how much I like knowing he isn’t afraid to show me off tonight.
I spend the drive exploring Houston’s hand. His fingers are long, knuckles pronounced, and because he’s left-handed he doesn’t have too many calluses on this hand. His skin is smooth and warm, and I relish the way my fingers fit between his so nicely. For the most part, he keeps his hand relaxed so I can do what I want, but every once in a while his fingers curl around mine or brush along my palm and send a shiver through me. Every time he does this, a little smile stretches across his lips and brings back that dimple.
I’ve never had anything feel this natural before. I’ve been on plenty of dates and even had a couple of boyfriends—nothing lasting longer than a few months—but I don’t think I ever would have been this forward with a man’s hand before meeting Houston.
Or maybe Tamlin is rubbing off on me.
When Houston pulls up outside a suburban house that looks incredibly warm and welcoming, Jordan is the first one out, shutting the door behind him and leaving us in a heavy silence that feels full of possibility.
Houston and I speak at the same time.
“I should probably warn you about—”
“What exactly are we—”
We share matching smiles before Houston gestures for me to go first.
I don’t feel quite as brave as I did a second ago, but I force myself to ask the question anyway. “What are we? I mean, who are you going to introduce me as?”
He shifts so he’s facing me a little more. Jordan’s truck is pretty giant, so there’s plenty of room for him to turn in his seat. “I don’t know yet,” he says, which honestly is a perfectly valid answer, all things considered. “What do you think?”
What would Tamlin say? It feels a little ridiculous to ask myself that question when IamTamlin, but especially lately I’ve separated the two halves so well. Too well.
I speak more to his hand than to his face, as if that might make it easier to be honest. “I think I really like you. But I don’t know how long I’ll be in town, which makes this…complicated.”
“Your lease isn’t up until the end of the year. We have time to figure out what this is before we make any decisions.”
We have only as long as it takes for me to find this elusive story, and then I’ll have to cut him out of my life and vanish. I wish I could tell him the truth about who I am because he deserves to know, but Enhance has made that impossible. Even if Icouldtell him, it would only make everything worse because I’ve been lying to him since the day I met him. Houston is going to end up hurt no matter what I do, and I hate that.
“Maybe we just take one day at a time,” I suggest quietly.
I can tell Houston wants more than that, but I want to protect his heart and soul as much as I can when the hammer falls.
“What were you going to say?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything about my suggestion.
He glances at the house, his expression hard to read. “I should warn you about my siblings. They’re chaotic on a good day, and Halloween tends to bring out the worst of us. They’ll…they will probably ask you a lot of questions. Sorry in advance.”
I can handle questions. I have to be quick on my feet whenever Tamlin goes to battle, so this will be nothing. But to stay true to the Darcy that Houston knows, I give his hand asqueeze. “Just don’t leave me alone for too long,” I tell him. “Who knows what kind of unluckiness I could run into here.”
We slip out of the truck, and Houston takes my hand back as soon as he can, walking with me up to the brightly lit house. “I have yet to see this unluckiness in action,” he says.
“Maybe that’s because you counter it with your luck.”
He chuckles and then pushes the door open.
A big ball of fur greets me immediately, two paws slamming into my chest as a tongue swipes my face in a slobbery kiss. The impact knocks me into Houston, giving me a great chance to experience up close and personal all of that muscle that is on display beneath the thin fabric of his leotard as he grabs me and holds me close.
“Duke, no!” Houston shouts, but the kisses keep coming.
A whistle pierces the air, sharp and clear, and Duke drops to all fours, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as he grins at us. Now that I can actually see him, he’s the most gorgeous golden retriever I’ve ever seen, his fur long and silky and his tail swishing back and forth in a quick rhythm.
A man comes around the corner and commands, “Outside.” The dog obeys without hesitation, trotting off until I can hear a dog door flap closed.
Still in Houston’s strong hold, I take my first look at Chad Briggs. He has the same coloring as the twins, blond hair and bright blue eyes, but everything about him is more muted than his younger siblings. His hair is more of a dirty blonde and a lot shorter than Houston’s, and his eyes are a darker blue, closer to the gray side of the spectrum than Houston’s more turquoise color. He looks like the kind of guy who can shave in the morning and have to shave again that night, so he sports a decent amount of scruff, giving him a rugged look that matches the lumberjack getup he’s wearing.
Something tells me this is one of his more regular shirts, and this is about as dressed up as he gets.
