Page 74 of Resisting His Charm
“Your father wanted Louie here to keep us in check,” Mom tells me. “Alfie was bored.”
Poppy snorts. “Sorry,” she says. “But no one goes to Kestral Valley for entertainment.”
“I don’t know? A town full of fresh meat? And cowgirls are fucking hot.” Alfie smirks.
“There’s really not a lot ofmeatin that town,” Poppy tells him.
“Imogen says it’s a cute little place with lots of hot women. Sammie, tell me there’s a lot of women in this town.” Alfie looks at me.
“How the fuck would I know?”
“You’ve been there,” he deadpans.
“Yeah, but I only have eyes for one woman.” I shrug.
Alfie makes a vomiting noise while my uncle shakes his head at me. My mom smiles wide.
“Well, when you’re punching above your paygrade, I wouldn’t let those eyes wander elsewhere either,” Mom tells me.
“You do know you’re my mother, right? You should be Team Sammie.”
“I’m always Team Sammie. But now, I can be Team Poppy too. And she’s better looking than you are.” Mom lifts a shoulder.
“She is,” I agree and turn to face Poppy, whose cheeks are flushed.
Chapter Thirty
This is the most awkward flight in the history of planes being in the sky. I’m sitting across from Sammie’s mother and his uncle. Sammie keeps touching me. Small touches. Brushing his fingertips down my arms. Moving my hair off my shoulder. Or holding my hand in his.
“You look stressed. Need another orgasm to relax your mind?” he whispers into my ear.
My eyes widen, and I look across from us to see if his mother or uncle heard what he said. They’re not paying us any attention—thank god. “You cannot say things like that to me in front of your mother, Sammie.”
“I agree with Poppy, Sammie J. You shouldn’t say shit like that in front of your mother,” Mrs. Russo chimes in, and my face heats in embarrassment. “There are some things a mother does not need to know.”
“Oh my god.” I sink farther into the seat in a lame attempt to get away from this situation.
“Don’t listen to her. When I was fifteen, she sat me down and told me all about the importance of a woman’s pleasure, and if I was going to engage in sexual activity, I better make sure whoever I’m with enjoys it,” Sammie says, while pointing at his mother.
I feel like I should thank her, because Sammie obviously took that discussion seriously.
“I wasn’t wrong.” Mrs. Russo shrugs.
“My mothertold me to sample as many meals as I could before I settled on a favorite,” Alfie adds.
“That’s because you have shit taste buds,” his father grumbles.
“There is nothing wrong with the women I date,” Alfie argues.
“I’ve got Imogen’s doctor meeting us tomorrow. You need to have some tests done,” Mrs. Russo changes the subject.
“Okay. When does she start the treatment?” Sammie asks.
“Next week. She starts conditioning. That will take ten days. And then, if everything goes well, they can do the transplant,” Mrs. Russo explains.
A stewardess approaches with a tray of drinks. When she hands a crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid to Sammie, I snatch it out of his hands.
“You can’t drink that,” I tell him, downing what I now know is whiskey.
