Flower Passage by Liz Crowe

Author:Liz Crowe [Crowe, Liz]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: A Turkish Delight
Amazon: B008D37E8W
Publisher: Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
Published: 2012-06-19T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Emre couldn’t stop staring at the absurdly large man sitting at his kitchen table. The guy took up so much physical space; it was hard to imagine how anyone else could fit. The man who, apparently, was now engaged to his sister. Emre wiped a hand across his weary eyes and let Elle fill the empty space with conversation. They chattered away as if nothing had happened, while Elle moved around the kitchen preparing food, pouring them drinks. His eyes narrowed, taking in the other man’s gigantic hands—like fucking bear paws. His huge feet clad in cap toe dress shoes—like God damn skis. Emre slugged back another gulp of beer.

His shoulders seemed as wide as the bloody table. His wingspan had to be over seven feet. He didn’t have a thick neck or even a bulked-up look about him though. If anything, he was trim in his dark blue trousers and wrinkled white dress shirt. But he was a man used to dominating a room, and not just because he was absurdly tall or strong. It was his manner. Easygoing, calm in the eye of the shit storm he’d walked into today. Bringing something that Emre envied. A cool, in-control demeanor that he wished he could emulate. Emre shook his head at himself. Jesus. H. Christ. This behemoth had…with his sister…Oh hell.

He sprung up out his chair like a jack-in-the-box, interrupting the easy flow of conversation he had not even registered. Elle frowned at him and put down the knife she’d been using to cut tomatoes and cucumbers. Wiping her hands on a dishcloth, she came around the put her hands on his arms.

“Babe. You okay?”

Emre felt something snap. “Fuck, Elle. No. I am not okay. Jesus.” He sensed the huge man sitting behind him stir as if to move out of the room and leave them alone. He turned and motioned for Andreas the Greek to stay seated. “Stay. Sorry.” He leaned against the island and crossed his arms. His head pounded from lack of sleep and the emotional hairpin turns he’d endured for the past few hours. Just seeing his sister’s face had nearly made him lose it. But he kept control. He had to. People were depending on him.

She’d rushed into his arms as soon as the door opened, soaked his shirt with her tears as he stared at the man standing on the porch behind her. Elle had given him The Look, meaning “I’ll tell you later.” So he sat, held his sister, rocked her in his arms, crooned in Turkish, and kept his own emotions under tight control. When she’d been reduced to hiccups, he pushed her up, gave her a tissue, and motioned for Ayla to stop peeking around the corner at her beloved Auntie Tulip and come on out. She’d climbed into Lale’s lap, and the two had been ensconced in the rocking chair ever since, first just sitting, then singing, now reading a book.

He spent an hour or so securing flights

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