Page 42 of The Front Runner
“Oh, please.” My motherblushes. “Call me Sylvia.”
Her eyes dart down to his hand on the small of my back, and her lips tip up. “Sunny! Come meet Mira’s new boyfriend, Stefan!”
Boyfriend.
The word lands like a bomb, and I stiffen at the mention. In response, Stefan’s fingers slide back and forth across my skin, making my eyes flutter as I swallow what I’m pretty sure was a moan. The fabric of my dress feels altogether too thin.
His hands on my body are making me absolutely insane.
I swear my brain is melting right down into my spinal cord.
I’ve officially turned intothatgirl.
My dad, black beard neatly trimmed, appears at the top of the stairs with his arms crossed over his chest. His thick, black hair and almost black eyes are the perfect match for my own. He’s scowling at Stefan, and it makes me smile.
Sunny is one of those men who isn’t frivolous with his words. But I know by his actions that I’m the apple of his eye. When he dropped me off at college, there was no tearful goodbye. No promises to visit. He helped me unpack and snuck an envelope with a thousand dollars cash under my pillow for me to find later.
He’s never babied me or treated me like I’m less capable than I am. He’s never given me the ‘if he touches you, he’s dead’ talk. He’s a modern man who took my mother’s last name when they got married.
But looking at him now? A small giggle bubbles past my lips. Looking at him now, descending the stairs with dark eyes perfectly narrowed, I’m going to go out on a limb and say my father isn’t all that wild about his little girl bringing a boy home.
“Mr. Thorne, thank you so much for inviting me to your home.” Stefan steps up to the stairs and sticks his hand out.
My dad just grunts and says, “Pretty sure Mira invited you,” as he clasps his hand back in a death grip.
This is off to a great start.
“I’m sure glad she did.” Stefan grins at my father, completely unperturbed.
We remove our shoes and head into the house together. Straight into the hustle and bustle of my father’s family all together under one roof. He’s a second generation Canadian and his siblings have spread out all over the country, which is why this annual get together happens. Mostly, everyone convenes to see Nana.
At the kitchen table, my grandmother is folding samosas with a bored expression on her face. I’m pretty sure she could do this in her sleep.
“Hi, Nana.” I bend down and drop a kiss to the top of her head and whisper, “Are you making enough that I can take some home with me?”
She shakes her head. “You think I’m so old I’ve forgotten you hoard theses like a squirrel preparing for winter?”
I laugh. She’s right. I always have them stocked in my freezer. “Nana. This is Stefan.” Stefan is standing across the table, his eyes on her hands. “He’s my…”
I don’t know if I can lie to her about this.
“I’m her boyfriend,” he says, like he’s not concerned about pretending to be my boyfriend at all.
My Nana looks him over and smirks. “He’s blond.”
Oh god.She totally knows. “He’s notthatblond,” I reply, parroting what Stefan said earlier and trying to be casual as my eyes bulge out at him. Stefan just chuckles at me, shaking his head like I’m nuts.
“Can I help?” He pulls out a chair and sits down across from my grandmother, sincerity lining his every movement.
She shrugs but pushes a stack of the wrappers across the table and moves the bowl of filling into the middle. She doesn’t give him any instructions; she just keeps going and expects him to pick it up.
I watch Stefan’s keen eyes observing her closely, studying her movements. After watching a couple, he reaches into the bowl and takes a spoonful of the filling and then gets started on his first samosa. His gaze darts up and down when his fingers move. He mimics everything she does. Rises to the challenge. And makes a pretty damn fine-looking samosa.
I catch my Nana assess it as she reaches forward to start her next one. She doesn’t compliment him, instead she just says, “He’s fine, Mira. You can go.”
Stefan doesn’t even look up at me, already engrossed in making his next one. He looks so earnest about learning this, it warms my heart to him. The look of concentration on his face, the way he captures the tip of his tongue between his lips, it makes my stomach flip.
But I’ve been dismissed.
