Heartbreaker - Julie Kriss Page 0,48

front garden. After the grief, trauma, and sometimes horror I saw in New York on a daily basis, I felt like I had stepped into a movie set.

Mina wanted to carry her own bag, but I insisted, because if I didn’t carry her bag, her parents would probably hate me more than they already did. If the Maples were capable of hating anyone, that is.

We had reached the steps when the front door opened and Mina’s mother stood there, wearing calf-length capri pants and a flowery shirt. Her graying brown hair was cut short in the ultimate mom cut, and she wore wire-rimmed glasses. She pretty much looked like the kind of mom you immediately wanted to pour all your troubles out to.

“Sweetie!” she said, grabbing Mina in a hug.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Is she here?” This was a deeper voice coming from the front hallway. “Hold on, I’m coming.”

Mina’s dad came out next, wearing faded beige cargo shorts and a short-sleeved button-down. He was clean-shaven and his hair was combed neatly back from his forehead. He even wore a dad watch, the kind made with links that is worn by every good dad in the known universe. “Hello, honey,” he said, hugging Mina in turn.

“Hi, Dad,” Mina said. “This is Holden Whittaker.”

She’d told them she was bringing me, of course. She’d also told them we were dating. Still, both Mr. and Mrs. Maple paused and gave me a narrow-eyed look.

“Yes, of course, Holden,” Mina’s mom said.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Maple.” I put down the bags inside the front door and held out my hand for her to shake. Then I did the same for Mr. Maple.

They both shook my hand, because they were nice people, but Mrs. Maple said “Um” and Mr. Maple said. “Hmph.”

“Mom and Dad, be nice,” Mina said. “Holden is my boyfriend.” She gave me a meaningful look, wanting credit for using the word, and I smiled at her.

Mrs. Maple was the first to soften a little. “Yes, of course. Holden, I remember hearing about you when you were in high school. You were a very popular boy.”

Which meant: You broke my daughter’s heart, you jerk. I decided to face it head-on. “Mr. and Mrs. Maple, I made a stupid mistake all those years ago on prom night. I’ve apologized to Mina, and I intend to make it up to her.”

The result was magic. Mr. Maple’s shoulders relaxed and Mrs. Maple actually beamed at me. “Oh, that’s so sweet of you, Holden,” she said. “Come on in and get some tea.”

Twenty-Two

Mina

“I told you, they’re the nicest people on earth,” I said that night. We were sitting in my old childhood bedroom, which my mother had redecorated since I moved out—thankfully—but which still contained the twin bed I’d had as a kid and as a teenager. I sat on the edge of my bed and Holden stood leaning against the doorway. My parents had put him in the spare room down the hall.

“It’s uncanny,” he said. “I’ve literally never met anyone that nice. There’s definitely no one that nice in New York. It’s like you were raised in Disneyland.”

I was busy staring at his torso beneath the gray tee he was wearing and the drawstring of his cotton pants, which sat low on his hips and was impossible to look away from. “Um. Yes.”

“Mina. You’re ogling.”

If he was going to insist on using the words dating and boyfriend, then he was going to have to get used to my ogling. “Yes, I am.”

“I’d ogle you back, but what the hell are you wearing?”

I glanced down at myself. “Pajamas.”

“Are you sure that’s what that is?”

Okay, I was wearing a full pajama set, including pants and a long-sleeved, button-down top. It was navy blue. I also had a robe on overtop. “It’s modest,” I said.

“You look like Sherlock Holmes.”

“We’re at my parents’,” I argued. “As soon as they finish watching Columbo, they’re going to be right down the hall. My parents. This is my childhood bedroom. I can’t exactly waltz around in lingerie.”

“Your childhood bedroom, huh?” He looked around. Luckily my childhood furniture was gone, as were my old posters from the walls, and now the room was painted a tasteful green. “You ever sneak any guys in here?”

“Sure, lots,” I said. “The girl who got voted Most Likely to Eat Too Many Cupcakes had a regular revolving door of sex.”

Holden grinned at me, then crossed the room and sat next to me on the bed. “Come on,” he said softly.