Wright with Benefits (Wright Series #8) - K.A. Linde Page 0,64

by you first. Before it became a real problem.”

“I appreciate that,” she said with a sigh. “Of course we’d figure something out for you. Maybe a part-time office in Seattle, and you could commute to Vancouver or something every other week.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Morgan.”

“Anything for family, Jordan. You should know that.”

I should, but I hadn’t been sure. Three years, and I still didn’t know that they’d do anything for family. I was starting to get it…and worried I was going to miss it.

“Flowers!” Annie gushed when I showed up to her house a few hours later. She put the blooms to her nose and breathed deeply. “I love them.”

“I’m glad.”

“You didn’t have to do this.” She headed into the kitchen and pulled a vase out. After filling it with water, she put the flowers in it and rearranged them to her specifications. “Gah, they’re so pretty.”

“Like you.” I tugged her toward me. “And it’s worth all the flowers to see that smile.”

She giggled and pressed a kiss to my lips. “Stop. You’re too romantic. It’s gross.”

I laughed at her assessment. “Then I’ll just have to be gross,” I told her with another kiss.

“Okay. Fine,” she admitted. “I don’t mind.”

“I thought not.” I took her hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”

She ran a nervous hand down the front of her sweater. I could tell she was second-guessing her outfit—pink sweater, black leggings, knee-length black boots. But she had no reason for nerves. My mom liked basically everyone she’d ever met.

“You look great,” I assured her.

She smiled again, returning to normal, over-confident Annie. “Thanks.”

My mom’s house was closer to Annie’s than my house. Really only around the corner as far as Lubbock was concerned. I parked in the driveway next to Julian’s tricked-out Audi SUV. He cared way too much about that car.

I didn’t bother knocking, just walked inside and announced us. “We’re here!”

“In here, dear,” my mom called from the kitchen.

Even though we’d all wanted to build her a huge, new property here in Lubbock, she’d insisted on something small and homey with character, built in the ’70s with a step down into a sunken living room, and the intercom system still worked. She’d agreed that we could renovate the bathrooms eventually, but she liked its personality—the textured wallpaper, painted brick, and quirky, tiled bonus room. And I just wanted her to be happy, so I’d shut up about it real quick.

Annie and I headed to the dining room. Ashleigh was seated already, deep into her phone. Julian was in the kitchen, sautéing vegetables, as my mom pulled out a fresh pie from the oven. Julian had been graced with all of the culinary skills. I knew how to order takeout, and that was about as far as I went other than some breakfast.

“Glad you made it,” my mom said, coming over and kissing me on the cheek. She pulled Annie into a hug.

Annie retrieved the wine she’d taken with her. “I brought this with me. It’s a Burklee Hill red.”

“Oh, wonderful. I’ve been meaning to try all the local wineries, so I have a way to determine whether my sons’ new venture is worth anything.”

Annie laughed. Julian just glanced over at me with an eye roll. Typical.

“Do you need help with anything?” Annie asked. “I’m not super great in the kitchen, but I can serve or plate.”

“No, no. None of that. I want you to relax,” she said. She passed me a corkscrew. “Pop that open and pour your girlfriend a drink. I don’t want you touching any of the food.”

I shook my head. “I’m not going to burn anything, Mom.”

She shot Annie a look of despair. “I apologize that Jordan doesn’t know his way around a kitchen. He has that huge kitchen back at his house and only eats Chinese.”

“Luckily, I like Chinese,” Annie volunteered.

I popped the cork, which I was actually excellent at, and found glasses in my mother’s dining hutch. I poured glasses for everyone, passing them out.

“Ashleigh?” I said, offering her a drink.

She wrinkled her nose. “I actually only drink hard liquor.”

I nearly choked. “All right.” I turned back to Annie and found her trying not to laugh as she sipped her wine.

“We don’t keep hard liquor in the house,” my mom grumbled under her breath.

Because my dad was an alcoholic.

Okay, when I’d said that my mom liked everyone, I meant, almost everyone. Because I had never seen her dislike anyone like she disliked Ashleigh Sinclair. To be fair, none of us