Slip Up (Taking Chances Book 3) by TC Matson

Author:TC Matson [Matson, TC & Matson, TC]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-06-29T18:30:00+00:00

“Hello?” I call out as I step into my parents’ house.

I’ve never knocked and today is no different. Instantly, the aroma of dinner wafts over us and my stomach grumbles at the scent.

“In the kitchen!” Momma hollers.

My pulse is humming in my ear as we step into kitchen. Dad’s back is toward us as he stretches to the top of a cabinet trying to get ahold of a bowl. When Momma’s eyes land on us, they instantly brighten up.

“Oh…Charles we have company.”

I cringe.

Dad sets the bowl down and turns to us. Immediately his face hardens as he catches sight of Declan.

“Momma. Dad. This is Declan,” I introduce them, my voice not as confident as I’d hoped.

My mother wipes her hands off and shakes his hand. “Hello, Declan. I’m Sandra.”

Dad squares his shoulders and shoves his hand out to Declan. “Charles.” It’s short and curt, an intimidation tactic.

“Dad. Stop. You’re making me nervous,” I admit.

“Declan. Do you like baked chicken and mashed potatoes?” Momma breaks Dad’s pressure.

“I do,” he nods. “Do you need any help?”

She waves him off with her towel. “Nonsense. Amelia, make him something to drink and go sit down. Dinner will be ready in ten.”

I steal a quick glance at Declan. If he’s nervous, he doesn’t show it and I envy the hell out of him for it. I’m petrified, shaking in my boots.

As we sit at the table, Declan squeezes my hand and offers a smile.

I glower because, let’s face it, his blasé demeanor isn’t fair.

“I don’t like how calm you are. How are you not freaking out? I’m freaking out. This isn’t fair,” I ramble.

His eyes beam. “I am, but I work under pressure every day. I handle it differently.”

I’m still shooting him mad eyes. “I need to know these tricks.”

He squeezes my hand again. “Breathe. It always helps.”

I roll my eyes just as my parents come in carrying the food and placing it on the table. Dad says the blessing and we begin to scoop our food.

“Declan,” Dad says gruffly. “Why do you look familiar?” He doesn’t even look at him.

I tense. Does Dad watch any racing? Through my entire twenty-one years on this Earth, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him watch it.

“Do you follow NRA racing?” Declan responds, placing the potatoes back to the center of the table.

Dad’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before resting back into his chair. His jaw flexes. “Palmer.”

“Guess you do,” Declan says with a slight chuckle.

Dad’s eyes slowly shift to me, scrutinizing me. “How’d you two meet?”

“We—”

“She and Kirsten were coming out of their hotel. I was looking down at my phone, not paying any attention, and ran into her.”

“In Vegas?” Dad asks.

“Yeah,” I answer.

“You live there?”

“No, sir. Dallas, Texas.”

Dad grunts. “How does my daughter fit into your busy racing schedule?”

Declan glances to me, a twinkle dancing in his eyes, and he grins. “Pretty perfectly, if you ask me. Although the distance is hard, we’ve been making it work.”

I swear everyone can hear my heart pounding.

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