Packaged Husband (Trophy Husbands, #3) by Noelle Adams

Author:Noelle Adams
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: marriage of convenience
Publisher: Noelle Adams
Published: 2019-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Six

TWO EVENINGS LATER, we’re gathered around the big dinner table at Pop’s house for Sunday supper. Me and Owen, Sam and Hunter, Melissa and Trevor, and Pop.

Supper is going about normal.

Pop made fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, and biscuits. The food is delicious, and conversation ranges between companionable and tense, depending on Pop.

He seems to be in an okay mood for most of supper, but then he starts asking about my internship and things get awkward.

He’s his normal self. Half-paternal and half-obnoxious. I shouldn’t expect anything else, but it bothers me when he keeps asking about my job duties and then implying I’m not going to be able to do them.

He never actually says that, of course. That’s not Pop’s way. But he makes it clear just the same.

“It’s just been a week,” I say with a mostly natural smile, hoping to bring the topic to a close before it blows up. “It’s gone well so far, and I’m enjoying it.”

There. That sounds like a conclusion. Hopefully someone will start a new topic now.

Sam tries. I see her expression and know what’s in her mind. She actually opens her mouth to begin.

But Pop says, “It sure is a lot of responsibility for a girl who’s never had any before.”

My back stiffens, but I’m not sure why I’m defensive. Because he’s right.

Pop is right.

I’ve never had any responsibility before. I’ve never had a job. No one has ever entrusted me with anything important.

Or anything unimportant either.

Pop is just telling the truth.

“She’s not a girl.”

I blink at the voice beside me. Owen. He’s been sitting there staring down at his food. From the beginning, I’ve prepared him for Sunday suppers, telling him what works and what doesn’t, how the best strategy is to keep smiling and move on to lighter topics, how challenging Pop—even when he deserves it—just makes everything worse.

He’s done what I’ve advised for the four Sunday suppers we’ve had. I certainly don’t expect him to do this now.

Clearly Pop is startled too. His mustache bristles. “Pardon me, son?”

Owen meets Pop’s eyes. “She’s not a girl. She’s a grown woman. She should be treated like one.”

My eyes feel three times too large for their sockets. What the hell is even happening here?

Owen doesn’t sound angry or tense or even annoyed. He sounds serious and blunt and matter-of-fact.

I meet Sam’s eyes and then Melissa’s. They’re just as surprised and rattled as I am.

“What’s your point?” Pop snaps.

“My point is that Chelsea is a competent adult who shouldn’t be treated as a spoiled child.”

“Owen, please,” I murmur softly, putting a hand on his arm. “It’s not a big deal. You can—”

“I can what? Sit here and do nothing while he talks about you that way?” Owen’s hazel eyes shift to me, and his eyebrows lift slightly. “You think I’m going to do that?”

I’m halfway between terrified and gratified, and it’s the strangest feeling. Our family life has always been held together with the thinnest of threads. My sisters and I

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