Page 4 of Filthy Uncle To Go

But does Drake even recognize me? I know I’ve changed a lot. I used to be a dorky girl with Coke-bottle glasses and frizzy brown hair, but I finally grew up and lately, I’ve been getting a lot of attention. Male attention, to be specific. Mom says it’s because of my curvaceous figure, with my wide hips and big breasts. After all, I’ve always been a little heavier than the skinny cheerleaders at my high school, but after gaining the freshman fifteen in a matter of months, I noticed that my generous C chest blossomed into Double Ds, and my round rear end packs even more heat than before. Everything seems to jiggle when I walk, but a lot of guys like it.

But does Drake notice? I sneak another peek at the handsome man. He’s still in the living room talking to Grandma and Grandpa and the navy blue sweater he’s wearing hugs his massive torso, revealing every muscle on his upper body. I swallow hard as I stare at his broad shoulders, longing to caress them through the fine cashmere. Oh god. I shouldn’t be having these kind of thoughts. Who does this? For crying out loud, he’s basically myuncle. Nothing can ever happen between us, and nothing should. Yet my lips yearn to be pressed against his, and I’d love to cradle that big body between my thighs. I’d love to hear him breathe my name, if only for an instant.

But this is so stupid because he probably sees me as nothing more than a child, if he even remembers who I am. Besides, Drake is twice my age and a hotly pursued bachelor here in the city. What do I have to offer?

Then again, I’m surprised he never remarried after my Aunt Naomi passed away. It’s been ten years after all, and a decade is more than enough to heal. Yet, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad he’s still single because it would crush my heart to see him with someone else. I know I can’t have Drake, but that doesn’t mean I’m okay withanotherwoman having him. I know, it’s petty.

Sighing, I open the cherry wood cabinet in the corner of the dining room and take out my mother’s fine china, the plates we only use on special occasions like tonight. I carefully place them on the table one by one. Leanne would kill me if I accidentally chipped one of her porcelain dishes, so I try my best to focus on setting the table, but Drake’s all I can think about. I can still see his athletic frame out of the corner of my eye, and bite my lip, my cheeks turning red.

“Jenna, help me bring out the food please,” Leanne instructs as she walks into the dining room carrying a large turkey she’s been roasting in the oven for hours. She places it in the center of the table, and the eyes of every guest in our home are riveted with appreciation. I can practically hear their rumbling stomachs from where I’m standing.

“Sure Mom,” I say as I follow her into the kitchen.

I grab the bowl of mashed potatoes and the gravy boat off the counter and take them into the dining room. As I place them on the table, I scour the living room with my eyes, in search of my sister Natalie. Of course, that chick is nowhere in sight. Even if she were, I doubt she’d help Mom and I set the table because Nat’s just like that. I love her with all of my heart, but my sister is impossible. She’s more into social media and TikTok dances than doing anything useful. I sigh. I’m sure it’s something she’ll grow out of one day. Hopefully.

But then, I spot Uncle Drake again. He laughs at something my grandpa says, flashing that white grin. His smile makes me warm in my pelvis, and I flush. How is that even possible? It’s just a laugh. I duck my head and force myself to focus. It’s Thanksgiving and my entire family is here. I can’t embarrass myself.

“Honey, are you okay?” my mom asks as she places another dish in the center of the table. Oh no, I hope she didn’t catch me staring at Uncle Drake.

“Sorry, Mom. I must’ve spaced out,” I lie glibly, still feeling warm.

Then, I rush into the kitchen to get away from more questions and fling open the refrigerator door. Reaching inside, I take out a cool bottle of water. My fingers grip the cap and quickly unscrew it, before guzzling the beverage and nearly finishing it in one gulp. That was a close one. I almost got caught making eyes at my aunt’s widower, and shame overtakes me. Who does that?

It’s just one dinner, I remind myself.You can get through this. I’ll just sit as far away from Drake as possible at the table. The further, the better, come to think of it. That way I won’t have to feel seeping wetness between my thighs, nor the tips of my nipples hardening. That way, I won’t be aware of his tall, dark form as much, and maybe I can even distract myself with all sorts of mind games. Suddenly, my sister comes prancing into the kitchen.

“I’m starving,” Natalie sings, blonde hair bouncing. She sticks her long, thin fingers into the green beans and pulls one out, shoving it into her mouth.

“Oh my god, gross. People have to eat that, you know,” I admonish. She stares at me for a bit, studying me, and then places her hand on her hip.

“Why are you so red?” she asks. Trust Natalie not to mince her words.

“Red? What do you mean?” I stammer. Great, now that my sister’s noticed my flushed complexion, she’s going to drill me until the sun goes down. I sigh and prepare myself. After all, although we’re quite different, my sister and I have always been close. We’re only two years apart in age and have been best friends for as long as I can remember. But Nat is everything I’m not. She’s always been a popular cheerleader, with clear blue eyes and a way with guys. In fact, when she started high school my junior year, no one believed that we were sisters. Technically, we aren’t biologically related, but our bond is as strong as the real deal.

Right now, Natalie’s eyes are locked onto me as she waits for me to say something. I hate lying to her, but I can’t tell her that I’m infatuated with Uncle Drake because she’d think I was insane. Yet I have to tell hersomethingbecause she just raised her left eyebrow, which means neither of us is leaving this kitchen until I offer something.

“I’m just hot from running back and forth helping Mom set the table,” I lie as I take a sip of water. She takes her hand off of her hip.

“Oh,” she says as she hops on top of the counter and sits. “Sorry I didn’t help. I was exhausted from cheering at the football game earlier today.” She yawns as she stretches.

“It’s okay,” I say. Luckily, my sister believes my lie and moves on.

“So, have you met any hot guys at Marymount?” she asks with a wide grin. “Anything you’d like to share?”

I giggle. My sister has always been boy crazy. She expects me to be going on tons of dates at college, but really, there’s only one man I want and he’s long since graduated.

“A few, but none that I really like,” I say vaguely. My sister snorts.

“Oh, come on. There have got to be a ton of hot guys on campus, and you’re telling me there isn’t at least one that you like?” she asks incredulously.

“I just haven’t met one who’s my type yet,” I say as I shrug my shoulders.

“What exactlyisyour type, Jenna?” she asks, eyes squinting as she tries to figure me out. “Tall, dark and handsome? Nerdy with a Justin Bieber haircut? What gives?”

“Well, all I can say is that my type is definitelynotthe guys at Marymount,” I laugh.

“So what kind of guys then?” my sister persists.

I lean against the refrigerator as I try to come up with something to say. The type of man I want is about forty or so, with dark hair and blue eyes. In fact, he’s standing in our living room chatting with our grandparents as we speak. But I can’t tell her that.