I Pucking Love You (The Copper Valley Thrusters #5) - Pippa Grant Page 0,22

social media. We like our privacy.”

Hilda winks. “Some of you do. I saw Daisy’s boudoir photos from a few years back too. Hoo, mama. I’m lifting my weights so I can look that good.”

For the record, I don’t look at Daisy’s old boudoir photos either. My brother might have over a decade on me and be a retired Marine, but that doesn’t mean he’s gone soft.

Far from it.

Looking at his wife naked or nearly so?

Bad idea.

Bad, bad idea.

No matter when the pictures were taken.

The front door flies open. “Mom, Rufus is in your closet.”

Hilda shrieks. “Why did you let him in there?”

“I didn’t! You left it open!”

Hilda darts for the porch.

As soon as she disappears inside, Muffy’s shoulders droop and she squeezes her eyes shut, but only for a minute before she pastes on a smile and walks the short distance to my car.

I eyeball her as I take her small suitcase and fling it into the trunk. She’s in a black dress that lands just below her knees, a fluffy light blue coat on top of it, with her hair back and makeup on and her bag slung across her body again, and it strikes me once again that Muffy’s one of those unique women who manages to be steal-your-breath pretty in unexpected ways.

Which still isn’t making my dick do anything other than sit in my pants like he’s having a drink-beer-and-watch-ESPN-while-lounging-on-the-couch kind of day. “Is your cat really in your mom’s closet?”

“No. He’s trying to eat the fake goldfish on the aquarium channel in the living room. Get in the car. We need to go before she tries to come along.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice.

She doesn’t wait for me to get her door either, so I dive into the driver’s seat in time for her to swing her purse into the backseat, miss, and smack me in the face with it instead.

“Ow!”

“Oh, shit! Fuck! Shit! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Did I get you in the eye? Can you drive? Can you see? Did I knock out a fake tooth?”

I open my jaw wide to stretch my nose while my eyes water. “Had worse. What the hell do you keep in that thing?”

“Chocolate and brass knuckles.”

“Brass knuckles?”

“No. But I do have like seventeen dollars in change in case we hit toll roads, plus my favorite candle that I give out to all of my clients when they sign up for Muff Matchers. Oh, crap. I’m sweating. Do I smell like fish? I swear I smell like fish when I sweat these days. Do I need to drive? Seriously, not to be pushy after I assaulted your face, but my mom will be back out as soon as she realizes Rufus isn’t harking up hairballs on her fur boots, and I really don’t want her coming with us today. I, erm, don’t have enough hotel rooms for that. Actually, the entire city of Richmond doesn’t have enough hotel rooms for that.”

My phone dings a bunch again.

I blink to clear the last of the sting, crank the engine, toss my phone in the cup holder, and glance at her again.

On second peek, she doesn’t actually look like Muffy.

She looks like a professional, dolled-up version of Muffy who might start talking about the stock market or the abstract meaning behind a literary fiction novel or offer to take my coat and show me to a special waiting room?

I glance down at my dick.

He doesn’t seem to realize that’s a fantasy about getting a blow job before a business meeting.

Also, a fantasy about a business meeting? I don’t do business meetings.

Even for blow jobs.

And Muffy isn’t making innuendoes either. Plus, she’s right. We don’t need her mother tagging along.

“What was it like growing up with her as your mother?” I ask as I peel away from the curb, now with my phone hooked up to my stereo system, which is announcing every text message from my family.

“Normal? Do you ever really know any different than what you grow up with? My friends were all embarrassed by their parents too, so it’s not like I realized her lack of filters are different from other people’s lack of filters. Do you always get this many text messages? Holy crap. Your phone hasn’t stopped with the notifications since I got in the car.”

“Thirty seconds ago.”

“At least a minute. I know that’s not normal. Is there an emergency or something?” She grabs my phone out of the cupholder as it