with a hundred questions.
I needed to cut her off before she unleashed them on Boone.
“Um, I’m sorry. Were there napkins over there?” I asked. “I’m just afraid of getting messy.”
“Jeez. Can’t believe I forgot them. Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Boone shot off, gone in a second.
I knew he’d be back just as fast, which didn’t leave me much time.
“Who—” my mother began.
“Mom. Please. Don’t make a big deal out of it. He’s just the live-in help I hired to watch Stewie.”
Even as I said it, I knew that wasn’t true. Calling him just the help was a betrayal of Boone and what we had together. I had to tell her the truth and face the consequences, no matter what they might be.
“And we’re seeing each other too. It’s still kind of new.”
“Really?” my mother exclaimed, while my father looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than here. “And exactly how old is this boy?”
Here we go.
I braced myself and said, “He’s twenty-six.”
She pursed her lips and nodded. “Well, good for you.”
What?
Had I fallen off my high heels and hit my head? Because my mother could not possibly be on board with this relationship.
Could she?
Boone set a few napkins on the table as well as another plate full of assorted appetizers. “I brought more, in case your mom and dad are hungry.”
He was a charmer. Just maybe, he’d charmed some niceness into my mother. And if that were the case, I was holding on to Boone and never ever letting him go.
I glanced up at him.
Boone caught me staring and smiled. It sent a spear of heat through me.
I crooked a finger to him. He leaned low and I whispered, “Shalene is with Stewie for the night. What do you say you and I get a room?”
His eyes widened. “Fork, yes.”
I laughed at his obscenity substitute.
There’d be plenty of forking tonight. And I couldn’t wait.
TWENTY-FOUR
Boone
“Mmm, mmm. I do love that little sundress you’re wearing.” I watched her walk down the staircase as I considered turning her right back around and taking her to the bedroom.
Sarah frowned at me as she reached the bottom step. “Don’t suck up to me, Boone Morgan. I’m still annoyed with you.”
“Noted,” I said, fighting a smile.
She shot me a glare. “Next time you get the bright idea to invite my parents over for the day, talk to me first. Then, don’t do it. You have no idea what we’re in for. My mother is going to pick this town and this house apart. And we’ll be lucky if she stops there and doesn’t move on to you and me.”
“They deserve to spend time with Stewie. He’s their grandchild and now that your father is better, they want to see him. It’s understandable.”
She scowled.
“It’ll be fine. You’ll see,” I continued, trying to appease her, even though seeing Sarah angry made me want to bend her right over the kitchen table.
Although, to be honest, I kind of always wanted to do that.
She shook her head. “You’ll see. I’m right. It’s going to be hell.”
I grabbed her around the waist as she tried to stalk past me to the kitchen. “How about we make today a little more interesting with a wager?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “It’s going to be interesting enough already but okay, sure, fine. What did you have in mind?”
My mind ran wild with ideas. So many things I could ask for. Amazing, tantalizing things. One in particular came to mind.
“All right. If I’m right and today goes smoothly with your parents you have to use that toy you have hidden in the bedside table drawer in front of me.”
Her eyes flew wide. “You went in my drawer?”
“I needed somewhere to hide the mega-size box of condoms from Stewie, so yeah, I did. Believe me. I had no idea it was your sex toy drawer.”
“It’s not—”
I cocked my brow high and cut off her denial.
“I only own one,” she mumbled.
“Don’t worry. We can go shopping and remedy that.” I grinned. “Now, if, by some chance, today goes badly, what do you get?”
She had to think a little too hard about it for my liking. Apparently, she had no unfulfilled fantasies when it came to me. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
Finally, she met my gaze. “There is one thing I want.”
“Yes . . .”
“Can you get your friend who owns this house to let me keep it for longer?”
My heart rate sped like a horse out of the gate at Saratoga. I