Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“Can someone please tell me what the hell’s going on?” the older man says, obviously accustomed to being the man in power in every room he steps into. “Young lady, I’m Charles Harrington, Senior, and you are . . .?” he trails off, prompting for me to fill in an answer.
“Grandpa Chuck, this is Samantha Redding,” Chance says. “My date.”
Talk about a just-the-facts, bare-boned answer, but given what Chance quickly told me of his grandfather and the vibe he gives off, I’m not surprised. Until . . .
Senior leans over to Junior, and not bothering to lower his voice at all, asks, “Do we like her or is she a gold digger after my grandson? She looks a little cheap.”
“Chuck!” the old woman at his side admonishes with a backhand to his bicep. “You can’t go around saying stuff like that where people can hear you. It’s impolite.”
I notice she doesn’t tell him that he can’t say it, only that it shouldn’t be in public.
“Beth, I can say whatever I want. It’s one of the privileges of being me,” he argues back.
I get the feeling this is their norm—he says something outrageous, she calls him on it, he dismisses her, and lather, rinse, repeat like cheap shampoo.
With Chuck and Beth involved, it’s like everyone is holding their breath, even Chance, as it’s decided whether or not I’ll be accepted at the dinner table.
Fuck that.
“I can’t speak for whether Mr. Harrington likes me, but I can assure you, I’m not a gold digger. I would rather Chance be broke as a joke than have to deal with your crusty judgment.” Though I can only see to the top of the table, I look him up and down, as if he’s the one who should be worried, and then hold his gaze unflinchingly.
A moment of utter silence and stillness stretches. I can tell that no one speaks to old Chuckie like that, but I’m not going to bow down to him because he’s richer than Bezos. I’m impressed by people because they’re kind and care for others, are smart and generous, and things like that. Everything about Chuck might as well scream he’s more about money than character.
Finally, he grumbles, “You’ll have to sign a pre-nup.”
It’s not approval, but it’s taken as such, everyone releasing their held breath.
“Not getting married, so not a problem,” I quip back, taking the win because Chance is squeezing my hand and my goal in being here is to support him.
And maybe cause a little shake-up to this whole situation where he feels like he’s not enough for his parents. Well, his dad.
Because that’s pure bullshit.
Cole hops up easily now, making room for me and Chance next to Luna, and flashes me an impressed smile. He whispers something to Chance, and though I don’t hear it clearly, it kinda sounds like ‘cojones’, but I can’t be sure.
He makes his way to Kayla, sitting next to her.
Though all the Harringtons have that California beach beauty look, Cole and Kayla are copy/paste fraternal twin versions of one another—down to the same natural highlights in their hair and the observant spark in their eyes. Cole’s wearing black slacks and a bright blue shirt, but though he’s dressed the part, there’s something a little rougher about him than the other brothers. I can’t put my finger on it, but he seems a little more physical than cerebral like Carter and Chance, like he’d be more likely to pick you up in a farmer’s carry than get into a verbal debate over thread count minimums for sheets.
I sit down as Chance pulls out my chair, and beneath the table, Luna pats my thigh in support, but then she pinches me, so maybe a bit warningly too.
Miranda sits back down at Charles’s side, and I realize that he’s said nothing. I kinda took away his opportunity with my little speech. Politely, I say, “Good to see you again, Mr. Harrington.”
His eyes narrow, and he picks up the small glass of brown liquid in front of him. He lifts it the tiniest bit in some sort of salute and then sips, still not saying a word.
Yeah, I probably pissed him all the way off, but he’s not my concern. Chance is.
And maybe I want to show Chance that his family isn’t all that, so he doesn’t need to be scared of angering them or, more likely, disappointing them. They’re humans, flaws and all, too.
Echoing his father’s lead, Cameron takes a drink from his glass, but rather than a sip, he tosses both fingers back in one go. I don’t know Cameron other than through Grace’s stories, and to hear her tell it, he’s always busy with work, but he calls her ‘beautiful like her mother’. I’m not sure what happened to her mom, only that she passed away when Grace was little, and I wonder if Cameron is still dealing with his feelings about that.