Weathering Jack Storm (Silver Strings G Series) by Lisa Gillis Page B

eye at the pajama bottoms and tee shirt, obviously Jack’s, swallowing her frame.
    “And you must be Tristan.” Thankfully, they both were more interested in their blood relation, and they moved past her to the tot that was likely getting accustomed to that phrase. “Your daddy told me you like Bandit. Do you have these books?”
    Tristan perused the books as Candace knelt in front of his chair. Her husband gave her shoulder a squeeze and watched, equally infatuated with Tristan. Marissa relaxed some about leaving Tristan in their care.
    Dax stood at the bottom of the stairs texting. Minutes later, Jack appeared throwing her an apologetic look as he threw his arms around his aunt’s neck, then shook his uncle’s hand.
    “You guys are early.”
    “Thought it would be a good idea to get acquainted with this little guy,” his aunt smiled.
    Marissa winced as the straightener caught a couple of strands of hair wrong.
    “Congratulations.” Candace’s husband gave Jack a friendly slap to his back. “On the new album...and everything.”
    Small talk went on around her as Thomas worked his magic. Randi readied to leave while jabbering with Candace. Jack and his uncle moved deeper into the kitchen where she heard the clink of ice against glass. At this time, she wasn’t allowed to move her head, and it was irritating, especially when she was brought briefly into the conversations.
    “Stunning!” Thomas loudly proclaimed, stepping back as if she were a sculpture he had just completed. The talk ceased, and to further her chagrin, there was a chorus of agreements as if it were a Hollywood studio set and the clap sign flashed.
    Focusing her eyes, she froze while taking in her reflection. Who was that glamorous woman peering back?
    Only once, ever, had she worn false eyelashes, and then for almost a full five minutes before tearing them off under Olivia’s protests. The ones affixed on her lids tonight were different, fanning out to the outer corners for an exotic look.
    Her eyelids blinked under more color than she had applied even in her awkward teen years. A sheen of the barest sparkle dust glistened on her cheekbones, but disappeared when Thomas switched off the spotlight.
    Her hair was as sleek as Randi’s without a single flyaway and the varying strands of highlighting color blended in an extreme way not achieved even on the first day she had received the salon treatment–the week Jack first came to her home. The layers fell in a defined way, here and there, one almost over a sculpted brow.
    “Thank you!” She strove to sound professional and not awed as Thomas was putting his things away, but knew the excitement rang loud in her voice.
    The stylist actually paused to make eye contact when answering. “You’re very welcome. It is a pleasure, as always,” here he included Randi, “to work with such beautiful women.”
    “You look pretty Momma!” Tristan sang out as he slid from his chair with a handful of books. Already showing signs of being the charmer his father was, he went on, “You are always pretty!” With that, he transferred the new books to one hand, grabbed his crutch, and made a very uninhibited trek to the den, leaving the adults to their amused comments at his antics.
    Jack pulled her into the curve of his arm, declaring he could finally make the introductions, and Candace gave him a hard time saying he was already too late.
    “You do look stunning,” Candace declared. “You two will have a wonderful time. I know it is impossible not to worry about the little guy. Jack told me he has never had a babysitter before.”
    “That’s true,” Marissa replied. “My best friend, his godmother, is like a second mother, so she doesn’t count. And,” she stopped before saying Jack.
    Jack was his father. However, even before Tristan knew that, Jack was the one exception. Selfishly, she had left her son with someone he liked, but barely knew, in the interest of playing her head games with Jack by