Read Online The Sweet Under His Skin by Portia Gray - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Portia Gray
Tags: Suspense, Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, romantic suspense, New Adult & College, Mystery & Suspense
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her, it was hard to tell behind the sunglasses. "See you later, Aunt Arielle."
She gave an uncomfortable wave as she murmured, "Bye..."
Arielle wasn't sure what the hell was in her head, but seeing Calvin interacting with an arguably adult male was…pleasant. Hopeful. Arielle completely forgot that he'd manhandled her sister and scared the crap out of her on more than one occasion. It didn't bother her that he swore a lot and was most likely involved in criminal activity. Or that his reaction to someone hurting her was to go back and hurt them worse. None of it mattered because…he was good to Calvin.
And she really liked that. She needed that in their lives.
Shaking herself back to the present, Arielle finished putting away the rest of the birthday groceries, hoping Calvin appreciated hot dogs and tater-tots for many more years. He was such a cheap kid to please. She was so proud of the present she and Aunt Thelma had both put in to get him, too. In light of his sudden love of motorcycles, Arielle had found a motorized bicycle built for kids. He could still ride it like a regular bike but it also had a small motor, a‘junior bike’if you would. There was no way she could afford a dirt bike, nor would she want him riding one. This was a happy compromise, and with Thelma's help it was safely hidden out at the farm for the time being. He was going to love it, she just knew it. She couldn't wait to see his face.
That night as she was preparing chicken and potatoes for supper Calvin was watching TV, quietly entertaining himself as was his way. At the sound of a motorcycle pulling into the drive one house over he leapt to his feet and was out the front door before she could say, "Calvin—supper's almost ready!"
She shook her head, straining the potatoes, head back to avoid the steam, transferred them to a bowl, then plopped a dollop of butter on top. As she was turning to set them on the table she jumped.
She hadn't heard Calvin come back inside, pulling Quentin by his hand. For his part, Quentin looked reluctant to follow, but he did anyway. It wouldn't be hard for him to get out of Calvin's grip.
"Aunt Arielle?"
"Yes, Calvin?" She tried to sound comfortable with the man in her house—particularly the man who she’d been having steamy hot dreams aboutrecently—giving Quentin what she hoped was a friendly, innocent smile.
"Is it okay if Q comes over for my birthday supper?"
Arielle started, and Quentin's head cranked down quick to look at the kid holding his hand. "Wait, Calvin, buddy—"
"You said I could invite friends from school," Calvin reminded her, cutting Quentin off. "I don't have any friends from school. Q's my only friend."
Holy shit. Arielle and Quentin exchanged a very grown-up what-the-hell-do-we-do-about-this look, and she was honestly at a loss.
Maybe he wouldn't want to come to a nine-year-old's birthday. If he didn't, that would totally gut Calvin. And she did feel sorry for the kid that two old ladies were the only people attending.
Quentin read her mind, and at that moment again she felt a warm whoosh of affection for the guy who was bringing out an awful lot of these whooshes strictly through how incredibly awesome he was with her nephew.
"I'd love to come your birthday supper, Charlie. If Aunt Arielle's okay with it."
There was, of course, only one answer for that. "Sure. Quentin, you're welcome to join us."
He nodded once, then dropped those eyes back down on Calvin. "There you go, buddy. I wish you'd told me it was your birthday, though. I barely have any time to get you anything," he was scolding, heading for the door with Calvin following.
"I did tell you," Calvin was insisting, and was almost out the door before Arielle called him back.
"Calvin," she said, laughing. "Supper. You can go get dirty later."
"Oh yeah." Calvin ran back to the table, and Quentin cast a smile across the room at her.
"You're welcome to stay tonight, too. For supper…if you want," she said lamely,
She gave an uncomfortable wave as she murmured, "Bye..."
Arielle wasn't sure what the hell was in her head, but seeing Calvin interacting with an arguably adult male was…pleasant. Hopeful. Arielle completely forgot that he'd manhandled her sister and scared the crap out of her on more than one occasion. It didn't bother her that he swore a lot and was most likely involved in criminal activity. Or that his reaction to someone hurting her was to go back and hurt them worse. None of it mattered because…he was good to Calvin.
And she really liked that. She needed that in their lives.
Shaking herself back to the present, Arielle finished putting away the rest of the birthday groceries, hoping Calvin appreciated hot dogs and tater-tots for many more years. He was such a cheap kid to please. She was so proud of the present she and Aunt Thelma had both put in to get him, too. In light of his sudden love of motorcycles, Arielle had found a motorized bicycle built for kids. He could still ride it like a regular bike but it also had a small motor, a‘junior bike’if you would. There was no way she could afford a dirt bike, nor would she want him riding one. This was a happy compromise, and with Thelma's help it was safely hidden out at the farm for the time being. He was going to love it, she just knew it. She couldn't wait to see his face.
That night as she was preparing chicken and potatoes for supper Calvin was watching TV, quietly entertaining himself as was his way. At the sound of a motorcycle pulling into the drive one house over he leapt to his feet and was out the front door before she could say, "Calvin—supper's almost ready!"
She shook her head, straining the potatoes, head back to avoid the steam, transferred them to a bowl, then plopped a dollop of butter on top. As she was turning to set them on the table she jumped.
She hadn't heard Calvin come back inside, pulling Quentin by his hand. For his part, Quentin looked reluctant to follow, but he did anyway. It wouldn't be hard for him to get out of Calvin's grip.
"Aunt Arielle?"
"Yes, Calvin?" She tried to sound comfortable with the man in her house—particularly the man who she’d been having steamy hot dreams aboutrecently—giving Quentin what she hoped was a friendly, innocent smile.
"Is it okay if Q comes over for my birthday supper?"
Arielle started, and Quentin's head cranked down quick to look at the kid holding his hand. "Wait, Calvin, buddy—"
"You said I could invite friends from school," Calvin reminded her, cutting Quentin off. "I don't have any friends from school. Q's my only friend."
Holy shit. Arielle and Quentin exchanged a very grown-up what-the-hell-do-we-do-about-this look, and she was honestly at a loss.
Maybe he wouldn't want to come to a nine-year-old's birthday. If he didn't, that would totally gut Calvin. And she did feel sorry for the kid that two old ladies were the only people attending.
Quentin read her mind, and at that moment again she felt a warm whoosh of affection for the guy who was bringing out an awful lot of these whooshes strictly through how incredibly awesome he was with her nephew.
"I'd love to come your birthday supper, Charlie. If Aunt Arielle's okay with it."
There was, of course, only one answer for that. "Sure. Quentin, you're welcome to join us."
He nodded once, then dropped those eyes back down on Calvin. "There you go, buddy. I wish you'd told me it was your birthday, though. I barely have any time to get you anything," he was scolding, heading for the door with Calvin following.
"I did tell you," Calvin was insisting, and was almost out the door before Arielle called him back.
"Calvin," she said, laughing. "Supper. You can go get dirty later."
"Oh yeah." Calvin ran back to the table, and Quentin cast a smile across the room at her.
"You're welcome to stay tonight, too. For supper…if you want," she said lamely,
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