The Sweet Talker (Boston Hawks Hockey #1) - Gina Azzi Page 0,47
of year.”
“Thanksgiving was always your favorite.” Aunt Mary leans in to kiss me hello but I shoo her away.
“I’m fighting something,” I explain.
She wraps an arm around my shoulder anyway. “You work too hard, Indy. You need to take care of yourself. You’ve been so busy lately, we’ve hardly seen you.”
“Busy getting some d,” my cousin mutters and I shoot her a murderous glare.
Luckily, Aunt Mary doesn’t hear her.
“I’ve just been working a lot. We are flying out in six weeks for the trip to Bangladesh. With all the Thanksgiving plans—”
“And Friendsgiving plans,” Claire adds.
“And Friendsgiving plans”—I roll my eyes at my cousin, who roped me into a wine and charcuterie night with her and Rielle—“I’ve been trying to get things sorted before the long weekend. Besides, I have another dinner with my department this week.”
“Oh, that’s fun.” Aunt Mary’s eyes glitter. “Are you taking a special someone?” She guides me toward the kitchen but I hear Claire’s snickering behind us.
“Uh…not planning on it.” I accept a mug of hot cocoa from my uncle as he kisses the top of my head in greeting.
“Really?” Aunt Mary presses. “I could have sworn you were seeing someone, Indy. You’ve been busier than ‘just work busy.’”
Claire covers her laughter by coughing into her hand.
“You really shouldn’t wear yourself out by working all the time. You need fun too. A social outlet. You should invite someone to your dinner this week,” Aunt Mary says firmly as Austin and Noah round the corner into the kitchen.
“What dinner?” Austin asks, popping a square of cheese and a cracker into his mouth.
“Indiana has a Thanksgiving dinner with her department,” Aunt Mary explains, shooting me another curious look. “Don’t you think she should bring a nice man? She works too much…”
A smile plays over Noah’s mouth as he swipes some cheese and crackers from the board in the center of the island.
“You want me to set you up?” Austin offers, raising an eyebrow.
Noah’s head snaps up and he glares at my cousin. Austin glares back.
I snort and shake my head. After sneezing into my elbow, I say, “No, thanks. I’m really all good. It’s just a boring, department dinner. I’d rather not subject someone to office politics and hearing about everyone’s dissertations. I’d never get another date.”
Austin points at me with his mother’s wine glass that he nabbed off the island. “Good point, Indy. See, you’re too smart for us.”
Aunt Mary sighs and takes her wine glass from Austin’s outstretched hand. She pulls down more wine glasses from the cabinet as Austin pours for all of us. Moments later, my parents arrive and our usual Sunday night dinner commences.
“We’re hosting Thanksgiving this year.” Mom kisses me hello, beaming. Since we never lived near family when I was growing up, I know how excited she is to host a holiday.
“That’s great, Mom. What can I bring?” I pass her a wine glass.
Noah reels back, a bit surprised I think. “Uh, sure. Thank you for the invitation, Leanne.”
“Of course. You’re family.” Mom smiles up at him and I choke on my wine.
As I’m coughing into my elbow like a lunatic, Mom shoots me a look while Noah pats my back.
“Sorry,” I recover, clearing my throat. “Wrong pipe.”
Noah glances at Mom. “I’m going to visit my brother in the morning, but I can come by afterwards.”
Mom beams, squeezing his forearm, before excusing herself to see if my aunt needs any help with dinner.
“You okay?” Noah asks me, his eyebrows furrowing.
I nod, forcing a smile. I can’t believe my mom just invited Noah to Thanksgiving. I mean, of course she should. He’s practically family and other than Easton, he wouldn’t have anyone to spend the holiday with unless he went to visit his own parents who he conveniently never mentions.
But I haven’t spent a holiday with a guy I’m—seeing, dating, hooking up with?—since Jace. I don’t bring guys around. I keep them tucked safely in a box far away from my parents.
“I don’t have to come to your parents’ if it makes you uncomfortable,” Noah says, correctly reading my hesitation.
“No, don’t be silly. Of course you should come.” I flick a wrist, feeling guilty for even thinking that Mom