Page 21 of Tangled
“Maybe not, but I’m going to,” he said, starting to pull the ingredients from the cabinets. “And then after you eat, please go rest again. Once I’m done with my last meeting, I’ll take the afternoon off, and we can talk. Really talk. You’re right, we don’t know each other well. I’d like to change that. If you’d like to, and you’re game, that is?”
She studied him, her expression a mix of wariness, amusement, and curiosity. Then a small smile tugged on her kissable lips. “I think we’ve already established that I’m game for almost anything,” she said. “And yes, I’d like that.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The nausea churning in Scarlett’s stomach had very little to do with her pregnancyand everything to do with the fact that Anthony and Beth Warwick would be arriving in a few short minutes. True to his word, Brad had taken the afternoon off and between her naps, which had been minimal, they talked. About so many things. Yes, they were barely touching the tip of the iceberg, but so far, she liked what she’d seen. And heard. Other than the fact that he was a Warriors, Forty-Niners, and Giants fan. In that, he was plain wrong because everyone knew the Lakers, Raiders (she was old-school), and Dodgers were better.
“How are you feeling?” Brad asked as he walked into the room, phone in hand.
She inclined her head. “Between the drugs, the sleep, not having to work, and knowing that Sabina—who I’m looking forward to meeting soon—and HICC are looking into Gracie’s death, I’m feeling a lot better. I’ve only barfed four times today,” she added with a slightly wobbly smile. She didn’t tend to have much of a filter when it came to bodily functions. It was hard to stay modest while living and working in the conditions she’d worked. Especially in areas often rife with giardia and other gastrointestinal viruses and bacteria. Still, she felt oddly embarrassed by sharing her bouts of nausea with Brad, even though he’d insisted on knowing. He’d claimed that since he was half responsible for her condition, the least he could do was try to help her feel better, which hecouldn’tdo unless he knew how she was doing.
“I’m sorry it was four, but I think that was better than yesterday?” he asked, dropping a kiss on her forehead as he passed the couch on his way to the kitchen. They’d been holding hands since they’d first seen each other the day before. But this afternoon, it had progressed to other gentle touches and, yes, even a brief kiss or two.
Despite the chaste nature of those subtle encounters, each one reminded her of their single night together. Reminded her of his bare skin under her fingertips as she traced the lines of his back. Reminded her of the feel of him inside her and the way he held her. Reminded her of the deep and lingering kisses they shared.
Jumping back into bed wasn’t a good idea—and not only because she wasn’t sure how her stomach would take it. But she hoped they’d get there soon. He was too tempting for her to ignore for long, and she had no desire to hide the fact that she wanted him. Although right now, one day after they’d reunited and a few minutes before she met his parents, probably wasn’t the right time to be thinking about it.
“Yes, definitely better than yesterday,” she said, following him into the kitchen to find him loading a platter with cheese, crackers, and fruit. “I think the fact that I’ve slept eighteen of the past thirty hours has helped.”
“And not working,” he added, handing her a glass of ginger ale.
She inclined her head in agreement. After a call from Ryan in the early afternoon asking her to continue remaining out of sight, they’d agreed she wouldn’t work until they were certain she wasn’t in danger. If she’d felt better, or been her usual self, she would have protested. Or chafed under the restriction. But after almost three months of being violently ill, she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Ryan and Sabina want to come over after my parents leave,” he said, pouring himself a glass of sparkling water. She started to suggest that he have a cocktail or wine, but even the thought of smelling it had her swallowing down an urge to heave.
“Do they have something?” she asked as they made their way to the living room. The sun was setting over the western mountains, and a long shadow stretched over the lake. The edges had frozen over, but the middle was still a deep, dark blue. A beautiful contrast to the pristine white of the surrounding snow.
“I assume so,” he replied. “But I didn’t ask. I figured if they had something, you should hear it before me or at least at the same time.”
Before she could respond to his consideration, the doorbell rang, and her body seized. Brad smiled. “It will be fine. Trust me,” he said. Then, rising, he dropped another kiss on the top of her head before answering the door.
Anthony Warwick was the first to enter. Not surprisingly, he looked like an older version of his son, whom he greeted with a big hug. Beth followed next. She was tall and lean, with hair as dark as her husband’s, and Scarlett saw where Brad’s unusual eye color came from. Beth’s didn’t glitter quite as much as her son’s, but they were the same pale brown. She, too, embraced her son, although her gaze landed on Scarlett even as Brad kissed her cheek.
“We were summoned?” Anthony said, his voice jovial as he threw his arms akimbo. He hadn’t noticed her yet, and Brad’s gaze darted over his dad’s shoulder. Obviously catching on, Anthony turned and spotted her. A beat of silence passed, then the tall man grinned. “Yes, we were definitely summoned. I’m Anthony Warwick,” he said, striding over, his hand held out.
“Scarlett Mitchell,” she replied, rising and reaching for his hand.
Anthony froze. “As in Kara’s Scarlett? The one who is like a sister to her?”
Scarlett nodded and before she knew it, she was engulfed in the most all-encompassing hug she’d ever experienced.
“We’ve heard so much about you from Kara,” he said. “Thank you for being there with her—andforher—all those years you worked together. You’re a sister to her, and I’m so glad we finally get to meet.”
He released her, although he kept his hands on her shoulders. Then with another grin, he gave her a quick second hug before stepping away and motioning his wife to his side. “My wife, mother of my children—bless her—and my best friend, Scarlett, meet Beth. Although I call her Annie.”
Brad’s mom was more reserved than her husband, although she seemed happy to indulge his gravitas. She smiled and held out her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Scarlett. Wehaveheard so much about you.”
“Thank you,” Scarlett replied, and to her dismay, her voice sounded a little shaky. At least to her. Although, neither of Brad’s parents seemed to notice as they each took a seat in the chairs. Leaving the spot beside her on the couch open. They might know her as Kara’s friend, but they hadn’t missed the fact that they were meeting her in Brad’s apartment.
“Drink, Mom? Dad?” Brad offered. When they both asked for a glass of wine, he glanced to her. She gave him a tiny nod. His parents were sitting far enough away that the smell shouldn’t get to her.
“So, how did you two meet?” Anthony asked her as Brad retreated to the kitchen to pour the wine.
Thankfully, she and Brad had decided that complete honesty was the way to go with them, and so knowing how to answer wasn’t hard.
“In a bar in LA the night he landed from Paris,” Scarlett said. “We didn’t know who each other was at the time.”
“That was, what? Almost three months ago?” Beth asked.
