Free White Lilies (A Mitchell Sisters Novel) by Samantha Christy Page B

ugly and I should tell you that you’re pretty. I’m trying to make her happy. I’m trying to make you happy. Hell, she’s as hormonal as you are. She cries at the drop of a hat these days. You should feel sorry for me . I have two women to handle.”
    “Handle?” I ask. “This is you handling me? And Erin told you to say that shit?”
    “No, that’s not what I meant.” He throws up his hands in defeat. “Cut me some slack here. I’ve never done this before. Yes, Erin told me to compliment you, but I meant every word. You are beautiful. And I should be able to say that without you thinking I want to have sex with you, Skylar. Not every man wants to bed a gorgeous woman, you know.”
    Gorgeous. He thinks I’m gorgeous? Or did Erin tell him to say that, too? “Listen, can we just get through this lesson?” I ask. I can’t decide if I’m more pissed that Erin told him to compliment me or that he doesn’t really see me that way.
    He nods. “Yeah.”
    We only talk food for the next hour while we layer and then bake the lasagna. While it’s cooking, I show him how to make garlic bread and throw together a simple salad. When we’re wrapping it all up for him to take home, I tell him, “You should take Erin some flowers along with dinner.”
    He silently nods. I wonder if he’s scared that I might bite his head off again. I make a mental note to ask Mindy if pregnancy has turned me into a bitch, or if Griffin Pearce has.
    “White lilies,” I say. “They’re her favorite.”
    “I know what my wife’s favorite flower is, Skylar,” he says petulantly.
    I ignore his sour mood. “You know she thinks the bean is a boy, right?” I ask.
    A small smile flashes across his face and I wonder if he secretly wants it to be a boy. “Yeah, she told me about the flower thing,” he says. “What do you think?”
    I shrug my shoulders. “I think I just prefer white flowers to red roses.”
    I see another hesitant smile creep up his face at my comment. I gather that, like me, he’s not into the whole ‘fate’ thing like Erin is.
    “I’ve heard some pregnant women get a feeling,” he says. “You don’t have that?”
    I shake my head. “This is your kid, Griffin. I try not to think too much about that kind of stuff.”
    “Oh, right,” he says with a guilty look. “I guess that makes sense. Sorry.”
    I pack his food in a catering cooler. “You can bring the cooler back when you come for your next lesson.”
    “So, you’ll still teach me?” he asks. “Even though I was an ass today?”
    I laugh. “Yes. Even asses need to know how to cook.”
    We walk out of the kitchen and he hands me the cap and apron. “Thanks, Skylar.” He extends his hand to me and I shake it. Charges of electricity run through my body, and I realize I haven’t had this feeling since the last time he put his hand on me at the ultrasound more than a month ago.
    I walk away disappointed in myself that I’m keeping track of his touches.
     

chapter eight
     
     
     
     
    Erin is giving Mindy and Jenna a tour of her house. My very pregnant sister and I have already seen it, so we stay in the kitchen making drinks for girls’ night.
    The house is quite impressive. Erin’s fashion sense obviously spills over to home decoration. The brownstone she and Griffin live in is only nine subway stops or a six-dollar cab ride from my apartment. They managed to get their hands on one of the rare properties in the city that has an actual backyard. They are lucky. It’s perfect for kids.
    I couldn’t imagine growing up without a place to run and play. Our house in Maple Creek wasn’t flashy and modern like a lot of New York City residences. But it was a place you could feel comfortable putting your feet on the coffee table or leaving a bottle of water on the counter. And the acres of fields surrounding our property made for endless hours of playing tag and hide-and-seek.
    Somehow, Erin has accomplished both. Her house is flashy. It’s