Chasing Cassandra (The Ravenels, #6)

by Lisa Kleypas

Before his friend could say a word, Tom asked urgently, “Can I have her?” “No.” “I have to have her, let me have her—” “No.” Tom turned businesslike. “You want her for yourself. Perfectly understandable. We’ll negotiate.” “You just overheard me refusing to marry her,” West pointed out irritably. Which Tom hadn’t believed for a moment. How could West, or any man with working parts, not want her with this all-consuming intensity? “Obviously a strategy to reel her in later,” he said. “But I’ll give you a quarter of a railway company for her. Also shares in an excavation company. I’ll throw in some hard cash. Name the amount.”

He’s Paul Rudd in Parks and Rec 😭

“Damn it. That makes six.” “Six what?” Devon asked in bewilderment. “Feelings. I’ve never had more than five feelings, and they’re hard enough to manage as it is. I’ll be damned if I’ll add another.”

“No,” she said easily, “I like you just as you are.” Mr. Severin’s expression turned inscrutable, as if she’d spoken in a foreign language he was trying to interpret.

Mr. Severin seemed too preoccupied to explain anything. He bent to gather some of the tools and slid them back into the plumber’s bag. One of his hands went to the center of his chest and rubbed surreptitiously.

SOBBING

“Dad wouldn’t want to leave me behind. I know he wouldn’t!” In the electrified silence that followed, Tom shot a glance at West, who looked blank and startled. Slowly Phoebe lowered to the ground until her face was level with her son’s. “Do you mean Uncle West?” she asked gently. “Is that what you’re calling him now?” Justin nodded. “I don’t want him to be my uncle—I already have too many of those. And if I don’t have a dad, I’ll never learn how to tie my shoes.” Phoebe began to smile. “Why not call him Papa?” she suggested. “If I did, you’d never know which one I was talking about,” Justin said reasonably, “the one in heaven or the one down here.” Phoebe let out a breath of amusement. “You’re right, my clever boy.” Justin looked up at the tall man beside him with a flicker of uncertainty. “I can call you Dad . . . can’t I? Do you like that name?” A change came over West’s face, his color deepening, small muscles contorting with some powerful emotion. He snatched Justin up, one of his large hands clasping the small head as he kissed his cheek. “I love that name,” West said unsteadily. “I love it.” The boy’s arms went around his neck. Tom, who hated sentimental scenes, felt incredibly uncomfortable.

He hurried to Cassandra and tugged her by the hand to one of the front windows. “Mama, look down there and watch me sweep!” Barnaby looked stunned as Bazzle ran from the office. “Did he just call her Mama?” he asked Tom blankly. “She said I could!” called Bazzle’s retreating voice.

“Bazzle,” Tom slurred, his head spinning. “You’re my boy. No one takes you away from me. No one.”