Page 73 of Tempted To Be Mine

Ireached for my phone after I got out of the shower and checked the weather. A balmy seventy-two. Not exactly sweater weather. But did I dress for the occasion or the weather? I had spent the last twenty-four hours digging through my closet. I was eating dinner with Hollywood royalty. I couldn’t show up in sweats. I finally settled on black slacks, a lightweight beige cashmere sweater, and heels. Not too much but not too little. I did my hair and makeup, no ponytail. Actually styled my hair.

Jeremy had told me not to bring anything. He’d been emphatic about it, actually. But showing up empty-handed to someone’s home for a holiday meal went against everything my grandmother had ever taught me. You didn’t arrive at someone’s door without a gift. It was basic manners.

The pumpkin pie I made looked good. Golden brown crust, perfectly set filling, a light dusting of cinnamon on top. It wasn’t Gram’s sweet potato pie, but it was something. A piece of my own tradition that I could contribute to someone else’s table.

I loaded it carefully into a carrier and set it on the passenger seat of my car.

This was going to be fine. It was just dinner. Just a meal with Jeremy’s family, most of whom I’d met at one point or another but not all at once.

I considered calling my grandmother but decided I’d call her later, after dinner. Wish her a happy Thanksgiving. Hear about whatever amazing meal Harold’s daughter had prepared. It wouldn’t be the same as being together, but it was all I was going to get this year.

The drive to the Blackwell estate took about an hour with holiday traffic. The house was massive. I expected nothing less. I’d been here once before, years ago, for some kind of industry party. I remembered being intimidated then. I was even more intimidated now.

The house itself was stunning. Perfectly manicured landscaping that probably cost more to maintain than my entire annual salary. Multiple wings and levels that suggested the kind of wealth most people only dreamed about. Given how big the family was, I understood why they needed such a large house.

I parked in the circular driveway behind a row of luxury vehicles and grabbed my pie. I rang the doorbell and waited. The door swung open almost immediately, and there was Jeremy. He was wearing a casual button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, jeans that fit him perfectly, and a smile so bright it made my chest ache.

“Lucy!” He sounded genuinely thrilled to see me. “You made it!”

“I made it.” I held up the pie carrier. “And I brought this, despite your instructions not to bring anything.”

He laughed and took the carrier from me, peeking inside. “Pumpkin pie? You’re my hero. My mom’s pie skills are still developing. Don’t tell her I said that, though.”

He pulled me through the door. “Come on. Everyone’s in the kitchen.”

The interior of the house was even more impressive than the exterior. High ceilings, tasteful artwork, the kind of understated elegance that only came from having more money than you knew what to do with. But it also felt lived-in. Inviting. Normal. There were family photos on the walls, toys scattered about, and the faint smell of turkey and something sweet baking. It reminded me of my childhood home. Times about a thousand.

The kitchen was chaos. Women crowded around the massive island, each working on a different task. I recognized Tiana Blackwell immediately. She looked exactly like she did in her films, impossibly beautiful even in a simple apron. And beside her, actually beside her, was Grace Stone. The Grace Stone. The biggest name in movies right now who was married to Jeremy’s brother, Micah.

I felt starstruck and tried very hard not to show it.

“Everyone, this is Lucy,” Jeremy announced, setting my pie on the counter. “Lucy, this is everyone.”

Tiana wiped her hands on her apron and came around the island to greet me. “Lucy! It’s so nice to see you again!”

“Thank you for having me.”

“Please, you’re family.” She said it like she meant it. Jeremy had told me so much about all of them, I did feel like one of their many cousins. “Now, let me introduce you to everyone else.”

The introductions came in a blur. Victoria was married to Callum, the oldest brother. She was warm and down to earth, nothing like the intimidating CEO’s wife I’d expected. Kensey was married to Drew. Darcy was with Beau, the lawyer I had dealt with a few times on Jeremy issues. Juno, recently married to Hollis, seemed to actually glow. And Cleo, the only female Blackwell child.

They were all beautiful. All accomplished. All part of this sprawling, impressive family that I was suddenly standing in the middle of.

“Lucy brought a pumpkin pie,” Jeremy announced, presenting it to his mother like a trophy.

Tiana’s eyes lit up. “Oh, how wonderful! I can’t wait to try it. My pie attempts have been hit or miss.”

“Mostly miss,” one of the wives muttered, and everyone laughed.

I found myself relaxing despite my nerves. These women were welcoming in a way I hadn’t expected. No judgment, no sizing me up, just genuine kindness and the easy camaraderie of people who actually liked each other. They weren’t pretentious. I couldn’t believe Grace Stone was peeling potatoes. I couldn’t wait to tell Gram I watched one of her favorite actresses peel spuds like a regular person.

The doorbell rang just as Tiana was giving me a stalk of celery to start chopping for the broth she was making from scratch.

Jeremy’s head snapped toward the sound. His eyes widened and he made eye contact with his mother. I knew that look. Guilt. Oh God. What if he had invited his girl of the week? I wasn’t his girlfriend but had he invited a plus-one?

“Gee, I wonder who that could be,” he said, his voice too casual. “Lucy, could you be a dear and go answer the door for me?”

I stared at him. “Are you serious? This is your house. I don’t know a stranger from a welcome guest.”