Page 27 of Freedom's Kiss
Chapter 12
Present Day, Florida
It was Adam’s turn to reciprocate. Olivia had offered a diversion at the farmers’ market when he’d been confronted with his own ghost. Now, with the hidden closet door of her past creaking open before her eyes, he was up to bat.
Finally, a metaphor laced with testosterone instead of Disney-princess fairy dust. Those years of babysitting Amber hadn’t ruined him for life. Sigh of relief.
He shot a quick look at Olivia out of the corner of his eye. She had her forehead pressed against the window as she watched the town pass by. Her fingers tapped against her bare knee even though there wasn’t any music playing on the radio. He was tempted to reach over and cover her hand with his but figured the rhythmic movement was her way of releasing any pent-up anxiety.
He returned his focus to the road and readjusted his grip on the steering wheel, not surprised to find his palms sweating. This diversion, while perfect for her, would cost him.
Carrington family game night. Of the millions of families in America, he doubted even less than 10 percent had a designated game night. Add to the fact thechildrenof the family were grown adults, that statistic must drop significantly. But when his mother got an idea in her head, especially when it concerned her family, there was no dissuading her.
Game night had been a staple in their house growing up but had taken a long hiatus while Trent had played the prodigal son, Michael played G.I. Joe, and Adam had focused on building his law career. But with Trent settled down and planted in the area, Amber attending a local college, and Adam with no excuse but a fledgling food truck, their mother had put her foot down and demanded her flock gather back under her roof. They sometimes Skyped Michael in from England, but with the time difference, that was a rarity. Adam had his suspicions that the motivation behind his mom’s tenacious hold on the idea they all meet at least once a week was based on the fact her youngest now attended college. The thought of an empty nest scared her more than wrestling a gator.
Olivia would fit right in to his family, he had no doubt. Just like he had no doubt that Trent would cock a knowing brow his way. While Adam had plenty of female friends—and not in the way Trent had been fond of using that description—he’d never brought any of them home to meet his family. Not even asjust friends. Call him old fashioned, but bringing a girl home to meet Mama was something a guy only did because he was serious about her. Something he’d tried to explain to his playboy brother before Trent had gotten wise and married the best thing to ever happen to him.
Which was why all of Adam’s family, not just his brother, would read way more into him bringing Olivia to game night than it was—a distraction so she could momentarily forget everything that had just been dumped in her lap.
Olivia lifted her head from the window, a small spot on her forehead turning a light shade of pink. “Are you sure your mom isn’t going to mind me crashing her party?”
He slowed for a traffic light and looked at her when the car rolled to a complete stop. “You’re not crashing her party.”
“What do you call it when someone comes to a planned event unannounced?”
Depended. But for Olivia… “If you’re the unannounced person, then I call it a nice surprise.”
She rolled her eyes. “Is this where I’m supposed to swoon into a puddle from your excessive flirting?”
He glanced back at the light. Still red. “No, this is when you’re supposed to swoon from my excessivecharm.” He said the last word with a wink and what he hoped resembled a self-assured smile. One she’d laugh at. He felt a bit victorious that the light was coming back to her eyes, replacing the dull glazed-over look she’d been using to stare out the window.
She waved her hand in the air. “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.”
“Totally different things, sweetheart.”
A grin poked at her mouth. “Whatever you say, Kennedy.”
“Kennedy?”
Her finger stilled on her knee. Then she brought her hands up to cross over her chest as she gave him a smug look. “Yes, Kennedy. While Casanova would be a better example of your type, I thought it a bit cliché, and you are not a cliché.”
The light turned green, and he pressed the accelerator. “No, I’m not. I’m also not that type, as you called it.”
“Hmm…you’re right. You’re not.”
“Thank you.”
She planted her elbow against the back of the headrest and leaned her temple on the palm of her hand. “Which begs the question, what type are you?”
He squirmed under her scrutiny as he turned into his parents’ driveway. “Maybe the type not comfortable fitting into a labeled box.” He pushed the gear into park. “We’re here.”
She turned her attention to the brick ranch-style home before looking back at him with uncertainty. “Are you sure they won’t mind?”
He walked around the car and opened her door. “Don’t worry—they’re going to love you.” And that was the problem. Theywouldlove her, but more importantly, they’d expect thatheloved her. And he was pretty sure nothing he would say would change their minds.
He used his knuckles to rap on the door, then turned the knob and opened the front entrance, his hand pressed against Olivia’s lower back to usher her into the house.
“Adam? Is that you?” His mom rounded the corner, drying her hands on a dish towel. Her steps faltered when she saw Olivia at his side, but she recovered quickly and extended her hand with a warm smile. “I’m Anita Carrington.”
