Hunting Tess Kathryn Summers (books to read in a lifetime txt) 📖

me,” I mutter to Parker under my breath as we carry glasses to the table.

“The opposite actually,” he responds, ignoring the obvious leers thrown his way from his cousin’s guests. “I may have just skimmed over a, rough history, of your time with us. It took her by surprise. And she babies Leo, so she was mostly upset at the thought of him getting hurt.”

“Wow, they are not subtle, are they?”

“Try to ignore them. I do.”

“Parker,” a curvy brunette croons, stepping away from the small group. Her chestnut hair looks like it was straightened to within an inch of its life. She probably wouldn’t tolerate even a single wave. “Let me help you with that.”

Taking a glass from him she bends over the table, displaying her plunging neckline and everything that entails. An ugly jealousy rears, tightening my stomach and threatening to expand my nails into claws. I don’t think anyone notices my glass hitting the table with a little more force than necessary. But after a calming breath the feeling is gone.

Parker pays no attention to the advancement and sets the table without any sign of reciprocation. It’s obvious to me that he’s trying not to look uncomfortable. And since he was withholding about where we would be sleeping, it only makes sense to enjoy the show the brunette puts on.

A muffled yell follows a loud crash of breaking glass. “Marcus Dent you are in so much trouble! Just wait until we get home!” One of Parker’s cousins came with three conniving little boys and I have to wonder if this is what Patricia dealt with when her children were little. Gemma rounds the corner with a sobbing three-year-old in tow. “Excuse me,” she says, crossing the room to exit out the back sliding door.

“My aunt tells me that you’re staying with my cousins in Colorado, right?” Shelby asks, setting down silverware beside plates and obviously used to the ruckus her nephews cause. Thankfully she has been nothing but kind since we were introduced, and I can definitely see her and Eliza getting along.

Before I can answer the brunette interjects, “It’s so nice that their house is large enough for guests. I can say that I loved my visit there. The woods provide such a feeling of privacy.” The raw lust in her eyes stifles anything that could be added to the conversation, only becoming more awkward when she undresses him with her eyes.

I chuckle softly to myself. It’s that or give her a look of such bemused amusement that may just bring out her own claws. Based on Parker’s tired look, I have very little doubt her visit was thrust upon the homeowners who bore her stay with patience.

“Oh she’s charming,” I tell him quietly on the way back to the kitchen.

“Don’t encourage her.”

“Parker, do I detect that she could be wearing you down?” Part of me wonders if the growl that escapes his lips is real or just imagined.

“Just for that I’m going to use you in my ploy to get her off my back. Don’t blame me if she puts salt in your cup.”

My heart skips when I think of what he could mean, only to dampen it. He didn’t mean anything by it. Patricia hands me a large bowl of mashed potatoes I carry to the table.

“How much longer until food?” Dylan, Gemma’s husband, complains with the heads of two boys pinned beneath his armpits.

“Well maybe if you make yourself useful, we could eat sooner,” Shelby jokes.

“Shelby, could you tell your parents and Uncle Rich that dinner is just about ready? They’re in the garage,” Patricia yells from the kitchen. Returning for more food, I pass Parker who is carrying a large platter of meatballs swimming in a sweet and sour smelling sauce. The wink he throws me does not go unnoticed because when I come back out carrying a couple of sliced up loaves of bread, the brunette has claimed the only available seat next to Parker. The other seat I’m assuming is either for his mother or father since it is at the end of the table.

Everyone converges on the room at once as the strange scramble for seats commence. I hang back, unsure where exactly I’m supposed to sit and not wanting to accidentally take someone else’s seat.

“Tess, sit, sit,” Patricia prods before glancing at the table. “Harley, I hate to be a bother, but would you mind if Tess sits there? I haven’t had the chance to get to know her.”

A flash of sheer annoyance crosses the brunette’s face before she collects her composure. Two points to Patricia. Throwing her a quick look of gratitude I take the now empty seat and Parker visibly relaxes. As entertaining as that debacle would have been, I’m mildly grateful I won’t have the urge to throw the brunette out the window.

Gemma disappears with a now sleeping toddler in her arms, returning shortly to sit next to her husband who just happens to sit next to the dagger staring brunette. If looks could kill I’m pretty certain I’d be pinned to the wall.

The table is full of laughter and love as food is passed down the line reminding me of Thanksgiving. My smile falters as a painful reminder pricks my chest that I won’t have Thanksgiving with my parents again.

“You okay?” Parker asks, his face filled with such compassion that I want to break down in tears.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You mentioned that you are a dancer, but what else do you enjoy?” Patricia questions, passing one of the plates of carved roast.

Clearing my throat, I answer her barrage of questions as quickly as she asks them. “Patricia, leave the girl alone, she’s hardly touched her food with the way you’re interrogating her,” Rich comments from the other side of the long table. The sweet smile she gives him is devoid of any malice, and one he reciprocates.

Discerning similar looks of love as Caleb and Lorelai, I wonder if Parker’s parents are also bonded.

“Have you been to