Read Online Paint Me Beautiful by C. M. Stunich - Free Book Online Page B

mother has set out and arrange them with careful perfection, lining up the silverware and making sure the napkins beneath are folded tight. I twisted the water glasses and even switch out one that I think looks too grimy. These acts have nothing to do with Emmett; I just like things the way I like them, and that's it.
    “ How do I look?” Marlena asks, clomping down the stairs in taupe wedges that blend in with her skin and make her look like she has hooves. She's wearing a royal blue dress that falls below the knee, giving her a matronly look that bothers me immensely. It's hard to be so passionate about fashion and modeling and then be surrounded by people who could care less what they wear and how they look. It makes me feel like they're being sloppy, and that bugs the hell out of me. People should care about how they look. The way you dress and present yourself shows how much attention you pay to details, how much effort you put into your life. I can't stand lazy and half-assed. I take a deep breath because I know I'm being mean and try to direct my thoughts elsewhere. Eventually, I find that they've got nowhere to run and end up sulking in my seat by the time Emmett arrives.
    I don't get up to greet him.
    “ Come on in,” Marlena chirps as I glance up and become ensnared in bright brown eyes that smile along with a set of curvy lips.
    “ Hi, Claire,” he says softly.
    “ Hi, Emmett,” I respond back. I'm staring, I know, but I can't help myself. Emmett Sinclair is dressed sinfully in a black button up that's left undone at the top to flash a bit of chest. He's paired it with dark washed jeans and black loafers. His hair is combed and gelled into submission, but a tiny wisp sticks up in the back and curls just so to the side. In short, he's perfection incarnate. I swallow hard and try to remember that I need to fill my lungs with air every once in awhile.
    He walks right up to me and holds out a small bouquet of yellow alstroemeria. It takes me a whole minute to realize they're for me.
    “ Just a little something,” Emmett says before he turns his attention to my mom and holds out his hand for a shake. She hugs him instead because that's just the way she is. No matter who Marlena had hired, if she had invited them over to dinner like this, my mom would be hospitable to a fault. She says it runs in the blood of every good Southern woman, but I don't feel it. Maybe it's because my dad is an East Coaster? “Nice to meet you Mrs. Simone,” he says politely, and then his eyes swing over to my dad like they've been drawn there by some unseen force.
    “ You don't know how to come up to a man's door and ask to see his daughter?” he says, and I jump in before Big Bob can get mean. I mean, I should let him scare Emmett off, I really should.
    Instead I say, “I was the one who asked him not to come in, Dad. Can you please pretend for one moment that I'm eighteen years of age and capable of making certain decisions for myself?”
    “ How old are you, son?” he asks, voice gruff, eyes burrowing deep into Emmett's soul. Emmett stares straight back with a look of pleasant confidence in his face and smiles.
    “ Twenty-two,” he tells my father without a hitch in his voice. He's the first boy I've ever seen stand up to Mr. Simone, whether sixteen or thirty, mine or Marlena's. Doesn't matter. The six foot four tower of hard muscles that is my father is always intimidating. Except to Emmett. I have a feeling that while he isn't aggressive or domineering, he doesn't scare or give in easy. It makes me like him even more. Damn it.
    “ Bob,” my mother warns as she plucks the flowers from my hand and whisks them away. “Better get these into a vase,” she says with a wink in my direction. I ignore her and try not to cringe when she reappears with a plate of crackers, cheese, and salami. I sip my water as Marlena offers Emmett a chair.
    He sits down straight across from me, just like I imagined he would, and just smiles.