Sweet Curves (Sweet Enough to Eat #2) - Mila Crawford ,Aria Cole Page 0,13

and then just stared at me. I felt the unease behind his gaze.

“Don’t worry, they will be nothing but nice to you.” I said, gesturing towards him. “I mean look at you. They’ll probably think I got you from some escort service.” Sawyer didn’t say anything right away, he just stared at me, holding my eyes hostage. Then he held my face in his hands, leaned in and kissed me. The kiss wasn’t as passionate as others we had shared, this kiss was sweet and chaste but also filled with love.

“I’m lucky because you chose me.” He whispered against my lips. “Now let’s go so you can introduce me to your family.”

“Alright, but when they scare you off, this was amazing.” I said, winking at him. Sawyer rushed out of the car, coming to mine and opening my door. He put his hand out, which I took and exited the car. We stood in the driveway, staring up at the giant beach house. My mother had purchased it five years ago, her final step into the upper crust.

Sawyer lifted our bags from the trunk before we headed up to the front door. As soon as I rang the doorbell, Thomas, the butler answered the door.

“Miss Katie. It’s lovely to see you.” He said taking the bags from Sawyer. “I’ll just put this in your room.” He nodded at Sawyer and disappeared, leaving us in the foyer.

Everything about the house was white, from the marble floors to the hand crafted wooden railings and steps. The walls were white, vacant of any decorations. The house looked more like a museum than a home.

“Are we at your parent’s beach house or an insane asylum?” Sawyer asked and I elbowed him in the ribs.

“She has the ears of a bat. Be careful what you say.”

“Katherine!” My mother called, saying my name in an irritating high-pitched tone. She was dressed in a white pant suit. Perfectly fitted and it looked like it cost a fortune. I couldn’t help smiling, not because I was happy to see her, but she actually matched the interior of her house.

“Hello, mom. The place looks fantastic.” I said as we gave each other air kisses on each cheek.

“And who is this young man?” Mom asked, a sly smile fixated on her thin, painted lips.

“Hello, Mrs. Wilder.” Sawyer offered his hand, and my mother shook it.

“Mother, this is Sawyer, my boyfriend.” I said linking my arm in his.

“Boyfriend? Katherine, why didn’t you say anything? Is this very new? God, please don’t make a scene on your sister’s wedding day.”

“We’ve been together for a while. We actually know each other from high school.” Sawyer interrupted. My mother stared at Sawyer until recognition finally dawned on her face.

“Sawyer Williams, the cute little quarterback you used to tutor?” The look on her face was one of shock laced with ridicule.

“Yes ma’am, your beautiful and smart daughter was the one that got me through AP English.” Sawyer put his arm around me, pulling me towards him. I could feel my shoulders start to relax from the small gesture.

“Well, Katherine has always been the smart one. I was fortunate to have a beautiful girl, in my Hallie and a smart one in my Katherine.” My mother’s words stung, making me feel like that insecure girl again, too scared to wear anything that would make her stand out, too self-conscious to talk to any boys. Always the girl standing on the sidelines.

“I don’t know ma’am. Katie is the prettiest girl my eyes have ever seen.” Sawyer said, looking at me in a way that I forgot that we were standing in the entryway to hell with Satan welcoming us inside.

“Katherine does have a lovely face. If only she could get that weight under control.” My shoulders tensed again, my fist clenched to my sides as my nails dug in furiously in my palms.

“Every part of Katie is lovely. She is the kind of woman that men wrote poems about, and she has the figure that inspired the greatest works of art the world has ever seen.” Sawyer said as he rubbed my upper arm, his body now in a protective stance, wedged in front of me to keep my mother’s glare off me and force her to look at him.

“Well, come on into the parlor. We are having a cake tasting.” She said, walking away and forcing us to follow like good, obedient children.

“I’m so sorry. You probably want to run for the hills.” I whispered in