Two years after a horrible accident, Kinsley's determined to make it through vet school, but she didn't expect to meet country boy Noel McLean who's just as mysterious as he is charming.
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Kinsley Hastings suffers from PTSD. After surviving a fata...
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Kinsley
"For the last time, Noel," I say as I watch him adjust his T-shirt. "My grandparents aren't going to bite."
He gives me a look and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans. I can tell by the tenseness in his shoulders and the way he's gnawing on his bottom lip that he's nervous. I can't blame him, though. One year has passed since he showed up at the pub, and he still hasn't met my grandparents. After signing to one of Canada's most popular labels and me sticking with university, things have just been too busy for us to travel to Winnipeg. And, in addition to that, Noel is at the point where he's become recognizable in grocery stores, restaurants, and even on the streets. We try to stick to ourselves as much as possible.
His popularity doesn't bother me, though. I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to go out on a date with him.
Popularity and business aside, there's still not a valid enough reason as to why we haven't visited my grandparents in so long.
So here we are, mid-July in the heat of the afternoon, walking up to the front door, with Noel beginning to sweat buckets and me also feeling a hint of nervousness. The two of us have come a long way since the breakdown that happened between us. I no longer feel guilty for surviving and Noel no longer blames himself. You think we'd be invincible after all that. But apparently introducing my boyfriend to my grandparents is nerve-wracking for me, and the hype of meeting them is torturous for Noel.
"Are you sure?" he asks, rocking back and forth on his heels.
I nod without hesitation and lace my fingers with his. "You will be fine. They'll love you." I pause and smile at him. "Maybe not as much as I do, but they'll still love you."
He gives me a weak smile.
I squeeze his hand reassuringly, all while biting back a laugh. He has the ability to get up on stage and sing in front of hundreds of people, yet he can't stomach the idea of meeting my grandparents. It's a little funny, but I'm not about to laugh aloud and belittle him.
"Why are you smirking?" he asks.
"Because I find your nervousness to be considerably cute, Noel." It's not a lie, but it's also not the entire truth.
"There's a 'but' lingering at the end of your sentence," he says, letting go of my hand and crossing his arms. "Spit it out, Kinsley."
"But," I sigh, "you need to get a grip on yourself. My grandparents know who you are. They know everything, Noel. They're my parental figures. Just as I've told you many things about them. You've never met, but you're not necessarily strangers either."
"Hopefully you didn't say anything bad about me."
I lift my hand, displaying the small space between my thumb and pointer finger. "Just a teensy, tiny bit."
He glares at me, but I know he understands that I'm joking. There's a certain spark of mischief in his brown eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitches.
