Alan rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m not going to like him if he keeps this up.”
Krystal starts laughing. “You’re so ridiculous, Dad. A man with five kids can’t be critical of a man soon to have three. It doesn’t work that way.”
He gives Krystal the stare. “Stop. You girls are not allowed to gang up on me. Not when Chrissie is not here.”
She only laughs harder.
My dad searches the backyard.
“Where is Bobby?” Alan asks again.
I sink down on a chaise.
“He’s not coming. I told mom that a week ago. He left this morning with the boys for Lodi to see Greg. Bobby’s been learning about grapes. Making wine. The business. We’re thinking about starting a winery.”
“A winery?” More displeasure on my dad’s face. “Terrible idea. They bleed money. Only good for the tax advantage. Bobby is just full of winning ideas, now isn’t he?”
I pout again. “I think so. He married me.”
Alan’s gaze softens. “Yes, you are definitely a winning idea. Unfortunately, you were Bobby’s only winning idea.”
Krystal scrunches up her face. “I’m never getting married.”
Alan rummages in his pocket for his phone—no doubt to call Bobby—as he drops a kiss on Krystal’s dark curls. “Perfect. Now all I have to do is convince you not to go to Juilliard, stay home and study dance here.”
Krystal groans. “Will you leave off about Juilliard? Why do you have such a problem with me going there? It’s becoming unbearable you trying to change my mind. Why don’t you just tell me why you don’t want me to go?”
Jeez, did my dad’s face just flush?
“No reason,” he says quietly. “I just want you here.”
“Not buying it, Dad,” Krystal says pointedly.
He shrugs. “I don’t like the thought of you living in New York alone, Krystal. That’s my reason.”
I lock eyes with my sister, her expression mirroring mine. Alan’s cheeks reddening—a definite dead giveaway.
What don’t we know?
Chrissie rushes across the patio. “Alan, stop giving Krystal a hard time about Juilliard. We should both be thrilled she’s going there. And there’s only one you. There’s not a chance in the world our daughter is going to run into a guy like you there.”
My eyes widen in disbelief. “That’s why you’ve been so difficult about the Juilliard thing, Pop? You don’t want Krystal to live in New York because you’re worried she might meet someone like you? Like Mom did when she went for her Juilliard audition? Just for future clarification, would that be worse than marrying someone like Bobby?”
My dad’s expression is priceless.
Krystal and I explode into laughter.
Alan frowns. “Thanks a lot, Chrissie. Way to be a team player.”
Krystal exhales loudly. “Why don’t you ever set me up with any of Bobby’s hot surfing buddies? I’d like to find a guy like Bobby. I might be willing to stay in southern California for that.”
I slowly shake my head, smiling. “Sorry, Krystal. Not going to happen. There is only one Bobby and he’s mine.”
The End
Continue the Parker Family Saga with the next generation, Krystal, Ethan, Eric & Khloe. Their books releasing 2016. For all my current and future releases visit my website:
http://susanwardbooks.com
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Enjoy one of my current contemporary romance releases:
Broken Crown
The Girl on the Half Shell
The Girl of Tokens and Tears
The Girl of Diamonds and Rust
The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet
The Signature
Rewind
One Last Kiss
One More Kiss
One Long Kiss
One Forever Kiss(Releasing Fall 2015)
Or enjoy one of my historical romance releases:
When the Perfect Comes
Face to Face
Love’s Patient Fury
Love me Forever: Releasing Fall of 2015
Enjoy Chrissie and Alan’s story from the beginning with The Girl on the Half Shell , The Half Shell Series Book One:
The room is so quiet it is deafening.
I find Alan on his bed, casually reclined against a stack of pillows, dressed only in flannel pajama bottoms, and reading—of all things—the Wall Street Journal. There is a fire lit, the silver candlesticks flicker with flame, the bedcovers invitingly turned down as if in preparation for some sort of romantic scene. But he is focused on the Journal.
He doesn’t look at me and I feel stupid hovering by his door, so I start to wander around the bedroom, trying to still my frantic pulse. It’s a good thing that it’s an interesting room, otherwise my deliberate study would seem silly.
Even Alan’s bedroom is something I find weird and demands a certain amount of mental analysis. It looks like something from a nineteenth century English manor, elegant to the point of being almost a touch prissy. There’s an antique mahogany king-sized bed facing the fireplace; floral wingback chairs with pillows positioned before the hearth; and high-tech conveniences camouflaged in antique furniture. There’s a Monet on the wall; tall, polished sterling silver candlesticks; crystal; and fine, leather-bound, first edition books of classic literature. I sink down before a small, mahogany table where I find a stack of newspaper: Barons; the New York Times; the Washington Post; and the Daily Telegraph.
The warmth of the fire surrounds me like a caress, but I am quaking like a leaf. I wasn’t sure what Alan expected after he walked out of the kitchen. It would have been logical to assume that I would leave. But he knew I’d follow him. I don’t know why he’s ignoring me now. I look at the lit candlesticks—he wanted me to follow him.
I bite my lower lip and stare at my knotted fingers. I stayed alone in the kitchen for what seemed like ages, and now that I’ve done exactly what he expected me to do, nothing.
I struggle for something to say to break the silence. “You do have seven bedrooms. I counted them twice. But there are seven only if I include yours.”
He folds the Journal, tosses it on the table and fixes those penetrating, mesmerizing eyes on me. “Is this the room you want?” he asks, his voice gentle. “I meant it when I said you could have any room. It doesn’t have to be my room for you to stay.”
Does he not want me in his room? A ragged breath forces its way from deep in my lungs. “Do you want me to go?” I murmur.
“Of course not. I want you here.” His voice is husky and his eyes are wandering in a leisurely hold that is tender and oddly comforting
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Susan Ward is a native of Santa Barbara, California, where she currently lives in a house on the side of a mountain, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. She doesn’t believe she makes sense anywhere except near the sea. She attended the University of California Santa Barbara and earned a degree in Business Administration from California State University Sacramento. She works as a Government Relations Consultant, focusing on issues of air quality and global warming. The mother of grown daughters, she lives a quiet life with her husband and her dog, Emma. She can be found most often walking at Hendry’s Beach, where she writes most of her storylines in her head while watching Emma play in the surf.
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