Lonely for You Only: A Lancaster Novel by Monica Murphy

Author:Monica Murphy [Murphy, Monica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Published: 2024-02-05T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

SCARLETT

We’re in the living room, the sun starting to shift lower in the sky, casting golden beams of light upon us through the uncovered floor-to-ceiling windows. My father has made us all drinks, even me, while Mom is in the kitchen ensuring the family chef is making everything to her exacting standards. I was able to convince her that we should stay home instead of going to a crowded restaurant, and thankfully, she agreed.

Tate sits uncomfortably in one of the overstuffed chairs close to the window, while I sit on the love seat opposite him. My father is still standing at the bar, making himself another drink, and I wonder how long he’s going to stand there and continuously refill his glass.

“Here you go.” He hands over a glass to Tate, who’s the last to receive one. He takes a big gulp from it immediately, draining half of it in one go, and I’m stricken at first, until I realize it’s just water.

Tate doesn’t drink. He can’t. And here’s my dad swigging them back like it’s no big deal. That’s almost . . . rude, isn’t it? Poor Tate. Even I’m sipping on some sweet alcoholic drink, and I’m underage.

Determination filling me, I set the drink on the end table and remind myself to get something different later.

“Thank you,” Tate says to my father after he’s swallowed, clutching the glass in his big hand.

I stare at that hand, remembering the sensation of his fingers touching my arm. My freaking arm, for goodness’ sakes. It should’ve been nothing in the scheme of things. Just a quick push of my top’s strap back onto my shoulder, but everything inside of me lit up the moment I felt his fingers on my skin. I was electrified. Focused on that one spot where he touched me and nowhere else.

I don’t remember ever having that kind of reaction when Ian touched me. Or when any boy has touched me.

“Have to admit to you, Tate, that I’m surprised my daughter is interested in you,” my father says out of the blue.

“Dad,” I groan, wanting to run and hide. God, this is so embarrassing.

He sends me a quick look, but that doesn’t stop him from talking. “Admit it, Scarlett. You’ve been so wrapped up in Ian Baldwin the last couple of years, I thought for sure you were going to force him to marry you.”

Ugh, the humiliation. I want to snap my fingers and make myself disappear. Instead, I forget all about my earlier vow and reach for my recently discarded glass, taking a deep swallow from the rum and pineapple my father made me. Now I’m actually hoping the alcohol will make my memory blurry enough to forget this conversation ever happened.

“I have to admit I’m just as shocked as you are,” Tate says, his deep voice washing over me, settling my agitated nerves. “But we just clicked that night. You saw the photos.”

“I did.”

“I think we make a great couple.” Tate flashes me a quick smile, and I smile helplessly in return.

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