Read Online What Brings Me to You by Loralee Abercrombie - Free Book Online Page A

way it rolled off her pale pink tongue and over her deep-pink lips. I had to change the subject to keep from staring too long at her mouth. "My brother has it worse."
                  "Oh God, tell me."
                  "Olaf Mickel Holmes the second."
                  "Oh my god,” she said biting her bottom lip to stifle her laughter, though the action was so seductive I had to look away. “Does he go by Olaf?"
                  "Hell no. We call him Mickey."
                  "Oh, well that's not bad. It's kind of sweet actually. Mickey and Teddy." Her switch from uncontrollable giggling to thoughtfulness threw me and I had a hard time switching gears to follow, but no one ever put it like that. I liked it.
                  "I guess so, yeah."
                  "So where is Mickey? What is his story?"
                  "He's the youngest so he pretty much gets whatever he wants with impunity. You know how it is."
                  "I don't actually." She looked away, but I didn’t miss that something in her expression darkened.
                  "What about you? Siblings?"
                  "Yep."
                  "And..."
                  "And nothing."
                  “Oh c'mon, Charley. Give me a little more than that! Brutal honesty, remember?"
                  "Just because I agreed on brutal honesty doesn't mean I'm going to spill my guts unsolicited. If you ask a direct question I will answer it."
                  "Okay, fine. How many siblings?"
                  "Two."
                  "Brothers or sisters?"
                  "Brothers."
                  "Older?"
                  "Yes."
                  "Names?"
                  "Well, not Olaf."
                  "C'mon."
                  "Fine. Adam and Caleb."
                  "Hmm… Nice Jewish names," I was fishing for an answer to the nagging question I’d had about her. She was a gorgeous brown, but too dark to be white with a tan and too light to be a pale black. She didn’t speak Spanish so that was out, too.
                  "Well, with a name like Feinman, of course the family is Jewish."
                  "Really?"
                  "Don't be so shocked -brown people can be Jewish, too."
                  "So, you're Jewish?"
                  "I didn't say that."
                  "So what are you?"
                  "I am a citizen of the world, smarty pants. I don't ascribe to any one way of thinking. Not yet, anyway. There's too much  hypocrisy  with western 'religion', though, so I tend to lean more Eastern."
                  "What like, Buddhism?"
                  "Sometimes."
                  "But your family is Jewish."
                  "Yes."
                  "And you're not."
                  "Ooh. Rebellious,” she taunted. But the truth is, I couldn’t imagine a life where my parents, Christmas Tree Catholics, and I had a different religion. It seemed wrong. And great. And brave. And I was jealous of her for being all the things I wasn’t but wished I could be.
                  "Kind of, yeah," I said.
                  "Look, my family...we...they..." She stared straight ahead at the gulf waves as if she was trying to figure out what to say.  That's new   I thought. She always knows what to say.
                  "Take me home," she said so abruptly I was afraid I'd hurt her feelings.
                  "What? We just got here." Which was not true at all, the sun was actually starting to get low over the water and I wanted to watch it set with her, I didn't want to