Page 3 of Waiting For A Girl Like You
“When you meet my parents, ask my mom. She loves to dig out old photos.”
The constant blush on her cheeks heated up a notch, and he reminded himself not to go too fast. “I’m sensing that you don’t like your brother’s girlfriend?”
“She’s okay. I lived with her while I finished high school since our dad was dead, and Toby was off at college,” she explained. “Brandy is crazy like Toby, but I’m used to her theatrics. She came with me when I moved here to start nursing school because Toby was interning at the University of Miami. Brandy can’t handle being away from him for too long.”
“So, what you’re telling me is, you’ve got an egomaniac for a brother and a drama queen for a future sister-in-law.”
“She’s not my sister-in-law.” Her mouth drew tight, obviously upset by his assumption. “Brandy likes to pretend that she is, and Toby goes along with it, but he doesn’t love her.”
“Then why is he with her?”
She floundered for a response and, when she couldn’t find one, picked up her cup as if she were leaving. “This has been great, but I’m late for class.” She scooted her chair back, the legs scraping across the floor. “Thank you for the coffee.”
The bell above the shop door jingled at the exact moment of her retreat, and Bruce stuck his head inside. The man was punctual to a fault. “We’re late,” he said, not bothering to enter the small space fully. “Miami traffic.”
Attempting to use his distracted state to slip off into the crowd, she tried to leave, but he caught her hand. “A name.”
Chewing on her bottom lip, she hesitated.
“A name,” he repeated, his thumb brushing over the softest skin he’d ever touched. When she still didn’t answer, he stood and tried not to be too intimidating. She was scared enough and didn’t need some man twice her size towering over her. “All I’m asking for is your name.”
“CeCe. CeCe Miller.” Inhaling deeply, she looked around as if half-expecting to find someone sneaking up on her. “But you can call me Cecilia.”
Chapter 1
1998
“Now watch as air and water work together.”
Releasing his grip on the balloon’s neck, Devon let the air whoosh into the plastic bottle. CeCe and Annabeth clapped as water trickled from the straw sticking out of its side.
“The air pressure builds and forces water out.” He waved the kids over. “What you’re seeing is the applied theory of potential energy and atmospheric pressure.”
Clamoring around the table he’d set up on the lawn, eight pairs of eyes squinted against the sunlight slanting through the oak branches. It was blazing hot, but with nothing except rain forecasted for the rest of the week, they needed this breath of fresh air before being cooped up indoors.
Simone glided in a rocking chair on the side porch while Laura Jean painted the scene with Jamison strapped to her front. Their argument over what to listen to on Laura Jean’s coral pink portable CD player occasionally interrupted the lesson, but Devon didn’t mind. It distracted the kids when things became a little too technical.
Catching him watching her, Simone’s red lips curved. “Wrapping up soon?”
Devon shook his head and turned back to the kids. “As I was saying, air canmove objects.”
Swiping a brush across the canvas, Laura Jean shouted loud enough for everyone to hear, “Did you guys know the Greeks thought the wind and air were people? The entire sky had different gods that controlled it.”
The crowd turned together.
Again.
“What kind of people?” Evie asked her mother.
“Fake people. Fairytale people,” Samuel snickered. “The kind of people weirdos like you believe in.”
Evie plowed her fist directly into Samuel’s stomach, and Devon winced. You would think by now, the kid would have learned to keep his guard up. Sammy might be an only child running around Parkland Grounds, but at Haven House, you had to hold your own.
“Evangeline Renee Eddins!” Laura Jean hustled over to the side porch steps before Evie could land another blow. She marched across the yard, wagging her finger. “What did I say about hitting Samuel?”
“I’m fine.” Bent in half and gasping, Samuel coughed through the pain. “She doesn’t hit that hard.”
Devon grinned at Selah, who was holding back his laughter. Come hell or high water, Samuel Fairweather was never going to let Evangeline Eddins get the better of him.
