your mom, that’s completely understandable. I just want you to know that I’m willing to go with you, if you’d like.” He grows thoughtful. “Does your mom even know about me?”
“She knows. I can’t keep secrets from my mom.”
Brandon nods.
“Are you really ready to meet her?”
“I would love that.”
“She’ll probably cook.”
“Even better.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. But only if you want me there.”
I squeeze his hand, which is a clear violation of the no-touching rule. We’ve been breaking that rule a lot lately.
“I want you there.”
He smiles.
Thanks to sleet and ice on I-70, the drive takes an hour longer than usual. Brandon’s a great driver. It’s the other idiots on the road that cause him to curse every half-mile or so. By the time we reach the house, the sleet has changed to a soft rain.
Crazy Indiana weather.
Brandon turns off the ignition and looks toward the house. “You ready?”
I nod, and we climb out of the truck. As we step onto the porch, Brandon takes my hand.
“Nervous about meeting my mom?”
“Nope. I just like touching you.”
We grin at each other just as the door swings open.
“You’re here!” Mom pulls me into her arms, giving me a tight hug that nearly takes my breath away. She’s always a little excited when I come home. “I was getting worried. I’ve heard the interstate is terrible.”
“Traffic was crazy. The snow and sleet didn’t help. Brandon’s a good driver, though.”
I step aside, and Mom’s gaze immediately locks on him.
“So this is Brandon,” she says.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. James.”
He offers his hand, and I hear my forty-two-year-old mother sigh dreamily before pulling him in for a hug.
I might be a senior in college, but that mattered very little to my mother when I told her my new roommate was a guy. At first, she had the normal fears that any mother would have when you find out that your daughter is living with a strange man. But when I told her I liked him, and that Tessa approved, Mom suddenly had a change of heart. You would think that information would have made a mother even more nervous about the living arrangements, but not mine. She was beyond excited that I was actually interested in someone.
Mom’s priorities are seriously out of whack.
“Are you hungry? I made chili. Something warm for a cold day.”
She leads us into the kitchen, talking nonstop about the crappy weather. I gather bowls and silverware and place them in the middle of the little round table. There are four chairs, which is two more than we had ever needed.
Until today, that is.
Brandon and I automatically sit next to each other, which makes my mother smile. Throughout lunch, she and Brandon talk about everything—his family, our hometown, even politics and religion. Brandon is his usual charming self, saying all the right things and laughing at Mom’s crazy stories.
I sit back and watch it all in fascination. If I had just met him, I would totally think he was full of it.
Can anyone really be this perfect?
Every day, I’m given yet another example of how completely perfect he is, and it scares the crap out of me. Guys, especially twenty-two year olds, are notorious for being jerks that are only after one thing. And while I know Brandon is attracted to me and probably wouldn’t turn me down if I wanted to . . . take our relationship to the next level, not once has he been anything short of a gentleman.
Except for that day in the library closet. But I dragged him there.
“What are you smiling about?” Brandon asks.
Crap.
I clear my throat. “Just listening to the two of you.”
Mom pours more milk into Brandon’s glass. “You’re quiet, Stephanie.”
“Well, it’s hard to get a word in edgewise.”
Brandon reaches for my hand. It should be weird holding hands in front of my mom, but it isn’t. And one look at Mom’s face assures me she doesn’t find it weird at all.
“She knows. I can’t keep secrets from my mom.”
Brandon nods.
“Are you really ready to meet her?”
“I would love that.”
“She’ll probably cook.”
“Even better.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. But only if you want me there.”
I squeeze his hand, which is a clear violation of the no-touching rule. We’ve been breaking that rule a lot lately.
“I want you there.”
He smiles.
Thanks to sleet and ice on I-70, the drive takes an hour longer than usual. Brandon’s a great driver. It’s the other idiots on the road that cause him to curse every half-mile or so. By the time we reach the house, the sleet has changed to a soft rain.
Crazy Indiana weather.
Brandon turns off the ignition and looks toward the house. “You ready?”
I nod, and we climb out of the truck. As we step onto the porch, Brandon takes my hand.
“Nervous about meeting my mom?”
“Nope. I just like touching you.”
We grin at each other just as the door swings open.
“You’re here!” Mom pulls me into her arms, giving me a tight hug that nearly takes my breath away. She’s always a little excited when I come home. “I was getting worried. I’ve heard the interstate is terrible.”
“Traffic was crazy. The snow and sleet didn’t help. Brandon’s a good driver, though.”
I step aside, and Mom’s gaze immediately locks on him.
“So this is Brandon,” she says.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. James.”
He offers his hand, and I hear my forty-two-year-old mother sigh dreamily before pulling him in for a hug.
I might be a senior in college, but that mattered very little to my mother when I told her my new roommate was a guy. At first, she had the normal fears that any mother would have when you find out that your daughter is living with a strange man. But when I told her I liked him, and that Tessa approved, Mom suddenly had a change of heart. You would think that information would have made a mother even more nervous about the living arrangements, but not mine. She was beyond excited that I was actually interested in someone.
Mom’s priorities are seriously out of whack.
“Are you hungry? I made chili. Something warm for a cold day.”
She leads us into the kitchen, talking nonstop about the crappy weather. I gather bowls and silverware and place them in the middle of the little round table. There are four chairs, which is two more than we had ever needed.
Until today, that is.
Brandon and I automatically sit next to each other, which makes my mother smile. Throughout lunch, she and Brandon talk about everything—his family, our hometown, even politics and religion. Brandon is his usual charming self, saying all the right things and laughing at Mom’s crazy stories.
I sit back and watch it all in fascination. If I had just met him, I would totally think he was full of it.
Can anyone really be this perfect?
Every day, I’m given yet another example of how completely perfect he is, and it scares the crap out of me. Guys, especially twenty-two year olds, are notorious for being jerks that are only after one thing. And while I know Brandon is attracted to me and probably wouldn’t turn me down if I wanted to . . . take our relationship to the next level, not once has he been anything short of a gentleman.
Except for that day in the library closet. But I dragged him there.
“What are you smiling about?” Brandon asks.
Crap.
I clear my throat. “Just listening to the two of you.”
Mom pours more milk into Brandon’s glass. “You’re quiet, Stephanie.”
“Well, it’s hard to get a word in edgewise.”
Brandon reaches for my hand. It should be weird holding hands in front of my mom, but it isn’t. And one look at Mom’s face assures me she doesn’t find it weird at all.
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