Free Knot a Liar (Knotted Up Book 1) by Rose Ann Bridges Page B

second buzz. Koya grabs me into the foyer, pulls in for a short hug then releases for small talk and pleasantries.
    Standing on the top front step, Sam turns his body a full 180 degrees, flips imaginary hair from his eyes and squeaks out in a wanna-be female voice, “Please come in o’ favourite, big brother.”
    Well, he won’t be winning awards any time soon for copying his siblings.
    Sam swings his body to the original position on the front step and responds to his own statement, using his own voice, “Oh, thank you so much wonderful, little sister.”
    “Is there anything I could do for you today, big brother?” Again Sam assumes Koya’s assumed mannerisms.
    “You are too kind. Thank you for the offer. I Sam let you know,” Sam enters and closes the door and then half shouts, “That’s how this was supposed to go, Koya!”
    Koya scoffs, turns to the kitchen, her hold firm on my wrist, effectively ignoring Sam.
    “Whatever Sam,” Koya pauses in her journey, turns to me with crossed arms and squinted eyes, “Please tell your husband he’s being ignored. If you weren’t at the door, he’d still be standing outside.” Koya drawls each word as she fixes Sam with an icy, detached gaze.
    There’s that word ‘husband’. Is it so wrong to really want that to be true? Quite obvious Koya believes we are really married. Would it be really that bad if I want the marriage to be real? Not just for show and tell, but real as in I love him, he loves me. I am already in lust, love can’t be too far behind. Right? Beside, for all the crap, I’ve gone through in my dating life, I deserve someone hot a hell at the end of it all. A pot at the end of a rainbow, a cooling touch at the dawn of each morning, a rock hard… Just stop. Calm down and switch gears.
    I wonder if Koya feels left out of her brothers’ ‘weddings’. I know I would.
    What’s that saying ‘fake it till you make it.’ That’s starting to sound tempting. We could do the deed until he’s freed.
    And hopefully along the way Sam plants a seed.
    Dang, I’m getting good at this. I’ll be the first romance author/ rapper of this generation. No. no, that’s downright stupid
    When we are finally in the kitchen, a delectable smell coming from the oven is a thing that can’t be explained. There is such a unique mix of smells and flavours in my mind that it’s kind of hard to figure out what Lydia is preparing. There’s chicken, cheese, several spices mingling in the air, and… what is that? The more I sniff, however, the more the scent of cleaners, bleach, hot oil, excessive sweetness from overripe banana in the fruit bowl and the 'wet soil smell' from watered basil, oregano and parsley sitting on the window sill flows to me.
    I blush and draw back into Sam’s side when I notice Lydia cocking her head to the side watching me sniff at her kitchen.
    Everyone except Patricia and Max are gathered in the kitchen, giving me time to note my surroundings. Their kitchen belongs in a high class restaurant –all stainless and marble. It should feel cold, but it doesn’t. I guess the bright green and orange accents infuse warmth into the room, as well as the well-used pots, pans, family calendar and free flowing laughter. Obvious repeated scrubbings have given the wood a silvery shine throughout the parts of the home I’ve seen. Somehow it still blends seamlessly in a house with old English cottage warmth. This seems to complement the hunger –inducing aromas wafting through the space.
    Lydia offers us all a drink. I take red wine, Koya white and the men beers. I’ll need a buzz to withstand Patricia tonight.
    We settle into easy conversation, talking about things of no consequence. How the weather seems to be at odds with the season –being cooler than it should, whatever games were on last night and the reasons for their losses and wins and how to ensure Sam holds on to me.
    Koya and I finish the tossed garden salad, while sipping the second glass of