Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Mom smirks. “Better to die full and happy.”
“This shouldn’t work,” I say. “But it does. It really does. Mom, Daniela, Savannah, you all outdid yourselves tonight.”
Murmurs of agreement—from mostly full mouths—echo throughout the dining room.
“Just you wait until dessert,” Mom says. “Daniela suggested a secret ingredient for Savannah’s tres leches cake.”
I glance across the table at Daniela.
She swallows a bite of food, and her cheeks redden. “I’m glad you’re enjoying everything,” she says.
“It’s all great,” Falcon says.
“Absolutely,” Raven agrees.
Once we all finish our plates, Mom rises.
Daniela follows. “Let me help you clear the table.”
“My dear, please, sit down,” Mom says. “This meal is your triumph.”
“That’s kind of you say, but—”
She wags a finger at her. “No buts. Sit down. I appreciate you helping in the kitchen, but you’re a guest here tonight.”
“I’ll help.” I rise.
Mom lets out a laugh. “Since when have you ever offered to help in the kitchen?”
“I do want to help,” I say, “but first, since this is a celebration of Vinnie and Raven, I thought I’d offer a toast.”
Mom returns to her seat. “That’s a great idea, Hawk. Does anyone need a refill?” She holds up a bottle of Rioja.
Once everyone has a glass of wine—a goblet of Orange Crush for Raven and Belinda—I begin.
“Raven, we’ve all seen you go through the worst thing in the world with your illness, but you kicked and fought and made it through, and then you found the love your life. Vinnie, thank you for making our sister so happy.”
We clink glasses.
“And also, to Falcon and Savannah. They’re engaged too, and I’ve never seen my big brother happier.” I tip my goblet in my big brother’s direction. “Falcon, you’ve been through your own kind of hell, but like Raven, you kicked and fought and made it back. We’re happy to have you here, and like Raven, I’ve never seen you happier. So Savannah, thank you for that. To Falcon and Savannah.”
More glasses clink, and more agreement.
“And one more thing,” I say. “I hope I’m lucky enough to one day find a woman as special as my sister and as you, Savannah. Falcon and Vinnie, never forget how lucky you are.”
As I raise my glass once more, I glance toward Daniela.
She’s looking at me, and she shyly diverts her gaze when my eyes meet hers.
Tingles shoot through me.
She’s off limits, but a man can dream.
Mom rises again. “That was lovely, Hawk. Thank you.” Then she raises her glass. “We should also toast your father. To Austin and his continued recovery. Let’s hope his aphasia will improve soon.”
I raise my glass again at my mother’s toast.
Is it my imagination, or does she shoot me an irritated look?
Maybe I should’ve mentioned my father in my toasts.
But aren’t we here to celebrate Vinnie and Raven?
I can’t do anything right in her eyes.
Whatever. I take a sip of wine and then set my glass down.
“Now,” I say, “yes, I am actually going to help with the dishes.”
Mom laughs again, shaking her head.
“Because,” I continue, “the sooner we get this table cleared, the sooner we can taste that amazing dessert you’ve been talking about.”
Daniela rises as well, despite Mom’s plea for her to remain seated.
Nice. Maybe she and I can talk a little bit in the kitchen.
Learn a little bit about each other. Vinnie’s told me that she’s very well educated in all walks of life, and I bet she has some stories to tell about her time in Colombia.
Of course, she might not want to talk too much about Colombia, given what she may have gone through over there.
At the very least, we can talk about the dessert.
The tres leches cake does sound phenomenal.
But what I truly want for dessert—Daniela’s lips on mine, her body pressed up against me…
That’s not on the menu.
12
DANIELA
God help me, even the way Hawk picks up a plate is hot.
He stands up from the table, and I have to look away before I do something stupid like sigh out loud. He’s tall—stupidly tall—the kind of tall that makes you wonder how ceilings don’t bend for him. And those eyes? Not just blue—sharp, ice-cut, sun-over-the-ocean blue.
He flashes a half-smile. God, that smile. It’s all slow charm and unspoken trouble, framed by that raven-black hair that somehow manages to look both tousled and intentional. Like he woke up that perfect and didn’t even try. Now he’s picking up dishes, his big hands careful, the muscles in his forearms flexing just enough to make me lose track of every coherent thought I’ve ever had.
Savannah’s still chatting behind me, but I’m only half-listening. Mostly, I’m just watching Hawk move around the kitchen like he belongs there.
He catches me staring, of course. One brow lifts, and that smile deepens, like he knows exactly what’s going through my head.
I grab a stack of napkins to look busy. “You’re surprisingly domestic,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.