Starting From Here (Starting From #3) - Lane Hayes Page 0,17

Mom. What’s up?”

“I have really good news. Are you ready for this?”

“No. I’ve only had half a cup of coffee. I’m not ready for anything yet.”

“Well, pour yourself some more and listen up,” she said excitedly. “Guess whose company was nominated for a big, big award?”

“Whose?”

“Mine!”

“Congrats. Tell me all about it,” I prodded.

I pulled my phone from my ear when she squealed, then chuckled softly, unable to stop my grin from spreading across my face like wildfire. My mother was the queen of cool and collected. Emotional displays weren’t her forte. So whatever this award was, it had to be a big deal.

Mom owned a successful real estate firm in Orange County with my stepdad, Sam, and his two sons. I guess I owned part of it too, but in name only. I’d never wanted anything to do with the family business. Selling expensive homes in gated communities to ridiculously wealthy people wasn’t my idea of fun. In fact, it sounded like hell. But Mom loved it, and even though our relationship wasn’t always easy, I loved her. At the end of the day, she was my only real family.

So I perched my ass on the barstool and swiveled away from the kitchen island to face my living room, noting the streak of golden sunlight across the light wood floors as my mom filled me in on her award. I tried to listen, but my head was all over the place. She mentioned something about her office, which made me think of my office.

I had a sudden and unwelcome flashback of being on my knees, sucking Tegan’s cock. I’d jacked off to the memory last night and when my hand wasn’t enough, I’d lubed up my favorite ten-inch dildo and fucked myself silly. I’d come like a geyser and was immediately pissed that Tegan had played a starring role in my fantasy.

It didn’t matter whose face I tried to impose or what fantasy I worked up…the contractor remodeling my neighbor’s kitchen, the hot guy at the gym who straddled my thighs to help spot me while I lifted…I even tried to cast a sexy woman in the scene, but nothing worked. It was Tegan’s fingers wrapped around my shaft and Tegan’s dick pounding my hole. I shifted on the stool, savoring the zing of awareness in my backside, then immediately berated myself. I was on the phone with my mother, for fuck’s sake. What was wrong with me?

Tegan. Tegan was what was wrong with me.

I rounded the island with my cell to my ear and rinsed my mug aggressively before putting it in the dishwasher, humming when my mom’s cadence signaled a change in topic. I had no idea what we were talking about. An award…maybe.

“That’s awesome, Mom. I’m proud of you,” I said, grabbing my helmet from the barstool.

“Thank you, honey. Dust off your tux. I’ll send you all the info—date, time, etcetera. I told your girlfriend it’s black tie.”

“My girlfriend?”

“The pretty goth girl you brought to dinner a few months ago. Long, curly black hair, red lipstick…ring any bells?” She probably intended her sarcastic question to be rhetorical, but I didn’t clue in until she added, “The girl in the band.”

“Xena?” I squeaked.

“Yes. That’s the one.”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose and sighed. “Xena isn’t my girlfriend, Mom.”

“Oh? She didn’t indicate there was trouble in paradise when I called her.”

What the fuck?

“You called her?” I dropped my helmet on the island and flopped onto a barstool.

“Yes. She told me her parents were thinking about selling their home in Yorba Linda, so I gave her my business card and asked for her number that night. I’ve had a few conversations with her recently, and she’s just darling.”

“Darling” was the absolute last word anyone would ever use to describe a viper like Xena, but hey, my mom had a talent for keeping things positive when she sensed a possible sale on the horizon.

I cradled my forehead with my free hand. “I repeat…Xena isn’t my girlfriend, Mom. She was my ‘plus one’ that night because you insisted I had to bring someone, and she happened to be standing next to me. That’s all.”

“Oh. Well, I like her. I wish she’d wear more color, though. Her mother says the same thing.”

Holy fuck. “Her mother?”

“Yes, Declan. Aren’t you listening to me? I’ve been talking to the Smiths about listing their home for months.”

“Months?”

“Yes, I contacted them as a favor to you and your friend back in March. I didn’t hear from them