Play With Me - Brittany Cournoyer Page 0,81
So do you.” I lowered my voice just in case his mom could hear and added, “Delicious, even.”
“Keep it up and we won’t make it inside,” he warned.
Maybe that was my plan. But he did look downright edible. With his long-sleeved, navy blue shirt and fitted jeans, he was walking temptation. And I couldn’t wait to get this afternoon over with so I could peel those tight jeans off him.
I’d opted for my fitted black V-neck and black jeans. I wore my black boots and pulled my hair back in the middle the way Foster preferred it. I wasn’t sure if I should’ve kept it off my face by wearing my signature bun, but Foster’s hum of need when he opened the door told me I’d made the right choice.
“I’ll try to behave,” I promised.
Foster shot me a flirty look before rapping his knuckles against the door and turning the knob to push it open. Just as I’d suspected his mother and father were standing on the other side, and as I stepped over the threshold, I felt like I was walking into the lion’s den.
Their faces held no expressions as they gave me onceovers, and I did my own studying of the smaller woman who had Foster’s eyes and the large man hovering behind her with shoulders that’d make a linebacker jealous. Aside from the eyes and smaller frame, Foster got the rest of his looks from his father, down to the hair color. And while it was his father I probably should have been more worried about, it was his mother and the shrewd look in her eyes who scared me the most. After all, dynamite came in small packages, right?
I didn’t say a word and stood there waiting for Foster to make introductions. When he touched the small of my back, I jumped a bit in surprise at the fact he was willing to touch me so openly in front of them. But we were there, right? He’d told them about our relationship and wanted me to meet his family. Of course he’d touch me. This was nothing like my relationship with Matthias, and I knew I needed to quit comparing the two. It wasn’t fair to Foster or our relationship.
“Mom, Dad, this is Stellan. Stellan, these are my parents, Brenda and Howard Morgan.”
I held out my hand to his father. His grip was strong and the handshake brief. “Mr. Morgan, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“Likewise,” his dad said with a deep, booming voice. “But call me Howard. Mr. Morgan was my father, and I’d like to think I’m not that old yet.”
“Yes, sir. I mean, Howard,” I said, and winced at my blunder.
He dropped my hand before stroking his chin, and I braced myself for whatever he was about to say next. “You look familiar. Where is it Foster said you worked?”
“I’m a mechanic at Baker’s Auto and Body, and I also play the sax for the jazz band The Messengers.”
“That’s where I know you from.”
“When have you gone to a jazz bar, Dad?” Foster asked.
His father waved him off. “Not there. I’m not into bars, sports or jazz. I meant the auto shop. He fixed your aunt’s Cadillac.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Eugenia is your sister?”
His light, blue eyes sparkled at my question. “She is. She sung your praises about the work you did to her ‘baby.’ I dropped her off at the shop when she needed to pick up her car, and I saw you two talking before I left. I just didn’t put two-and-two together until now.”
“I appreciate that. It was a great car to get my hands on, and I didn’t want anyone there to touch it but me,” I admitted with a sheepish shrug.
“Quit hogging him, Howard. It’s my turn,” Mrs. Morgan said in exasperation. “And it’s Brenda, before you even think about calling me Mrs. Morgan.”
“Absolutely,” I said as I held out my hand to her.
It must’ve been a day full of surprises, because rather than give my hand a shake, she ignored it and attempted to wrap her arms around my neck. Due to the height difference, I had to bend down, and I awkwardly returned the hug while seeking out Foster’s eyes with my own wide ones.
“It’s so good to finally meet you. It’s great to see my baby boy happy again.”
“Uh, thank you.” I replied. “He makes me happy, too.”
Was that a sniffle I heard? She squeezed me as tight as she could, and I gasped