If This is Love: A Small Town Southern Veteran Romance by Katherine L. Evans

Author:Katherine L. Evans [Evans, Katherine L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: KLE Publishing
Published: 2022-12-10T18:30:00+00:00

18

GABE

ALGIERS POINT, NEW ORLEANS

I wasn’t as pissed at Luke as I might’ve expected to be knowing he was literally going to barge in on me in the exact moment Ruth shattered all my expectations about basically everything by kissing me. And I was pissed, but I wasn’t seeing-red-and-ready-to-murder-my-baby-brother pissed. Because as loud and over-the-top as his intrusion was, the loudest thing in the room was Ruth’s reaction, and that scared the hell out of me.

Something was going on between us. Way more of something than I allowed myself to believe would happen for all three months we’d known each other, and whatever it was, it wasn’t taking a traditional route, that was for sure.

The other thing that was for sure was with that kiss, she tore apart my whole world and stitched it back together with her at the center of it.

I didn’t know what we were or would be. I just knew I belonged to her now. She also told me pretty much point-blank that she was sorting out her own shit. I imagined she was just as out of practice as I was, and whatever was going on just needed to go slowly. So I wasn’t going to needle her to talk to me about the kiss, or how she was feeling about me, or if she wanted to go out for dinner, or marry me and have beautiful, mini-Ruth babies with me, or anything crazy like that. But I was going to make sure I was around her every chance I could get.

Including by volunteering to help out at an impromptu Luke-and-Chloe-engagement-party-prep meeting at Liza and Connor’s house a couple of days later.

But there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do to spend time with Ruth, and at least this time I hadn’t been tasked with stuffing envelopes. Brennan and the ladies had that covered. I was in the kitchen with Connor assembling centerpieces by attaching mason jars and fairy lights to splintery planks of wood.

“I don’t get the mason jars, man,” Connor mumbled, threading the fairy lights through holes we’d cut out of the plank. “Like, we grew up drinking out of mason jars because that jar makes a perfectly good glass when your mawmaw’s not pickling stuff, and she’s got at least three dozen of them. Now this shit is trendy. And the jar I was drinking out of because I didn’t feel like washing the dishes is all over my wife’s Pinterest boards.”

I squinted at him through one eye while I screwed one of the lids to the plank. “Her fucking what?”

“Pinterest boards.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what they are, but they’re on this app on her iPad, and she’s got one for everything and each of us.” He waggled the fairy lights at me. “She’s got a Pinterest board called ‘Cookies for Gabe’.”

“Huh.” A smiled toyed at my mouth. I didn’t know what the fuck Pinterest boards were, but it was a nice feeling to be thought of enough to have one designated for me and my not-so-secret sweet tooth.

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