Page 68 of Flaunt
Nope. No emotions, Sara.
I can see why the Carmichael family is as generous as they are.But… “I’m already putting your family out. I was staying with Maddox and now Banks and then—”
“You are not putting us out. We all have the room and the space to help a friend out. Get that out of your head.”
I press my lips together to try to dispel the tears gathering in my eyes.
She starts to talk but stops. Then she moves toward the door and turns back to me. “I’m going to look for my bowl that I know is in the kitchen, and then I’ll bring that dress over. You are under no obligation whatsoever to use it. But I’d love to give you another option if you aren’t offended.”
“How could I be offended, Damaris? You are being way too kind to me.”
“I’ve never walked in this house and heard the washing machine running. I think I owe you one.”
I laugh.
She puts a hand in the air. “I’ll be back.”
“Okay.”
She disappears around the corner, and I sit on the bed. My heart races.What is happening here?
This family is unreal.How are they all so nice? And sweet? And thoughtful?
It makes sense that Ashley married into this family without a second thought. Damaris reminds me of Gretchen in the very best of ways.
I grin. And then there’s Banks. Kind, sexy Banks.
I’m not an asshole.No, Banks, you aren’t.And that’s a bigger problem than I think I realized.
My palms sweat.
“I found the bowl,” Damaris shouts from the kitchen. “If you talk to Banks, tell him he owes me a day of lawn work for lying to me.”
I laugh. “Okay.”
The back door snaps closed.
14
Banks
“Don’t you look gorgeous today.” I kiss Gloria on the cheek and then sit across from her. “Sorry I’m running late and couldn’t pick you up. Eddie is on vacation this week, and I didn’t remember. It’s been a bit of a madhouse.”
And I’ve been distracted as fuck.
She pats my hand. “I would sit here all day if there was a chance that you would show up. It’s not common that an old lady like me gets a young stud to take her out to lunch once a week.”
I chuckle. “Stop calling yourself old. It makes me feel weird.”
She cackles.
The windows are open at Muggers, letting the sea breeze flow through. It’s Gloria’s favorite place for lunch when the weather isn’t too hot, and we can avoid the peak rush time. She usually likes to sit at the bar that points toward the ocean. But today she’s chosen a seat in the dining area.
Whatever floats her boat.
“Have you ordered?” I ask her.
“Just a lemonade. I was waiting for you.”
