Then I tipped my head back to see he’d pressed his lips together like he was fighting against a smile and my eyes narrowed on his mouth, not finding one thing funny. Then something came to me and my eyes shot to his.
“My name is Marabelle Jolene Hanover,” I told him in a whisper.
“What?” he whispered back but that one word trembled and I knew it was with suppressed laughter.
“If that isn’t a trailer trash name…for trailer trash,” I added, “then nothing is.”
His lips twitched and he muttered, “Baby.”
“It is, admit it,” I pushed.
“Actually, I think it’s pretty.”
He was so full of it.
“It’s trailer trash,” I returned.
He shook his head, his lips twitching.
Twitching!
Then he said, “It’s pretty. It’s even kinda sweet. And it’s both these things because it’s yours.”
My name wasn’t sweet.
But he was.
Argh!
I changed tactics.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“You know my name,” he answered.
“Your full name,” I pressed.
“Mitchell James Lawson,” he told me.
“Right,” I mumbled and his arms gave me another squeeze.
“And?” he asked.
“Your name is the name of a hot cop, a hot baseball player or the third cousin of a king.”
His body started shaking as he turned his head in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his smile.
“Marabelle!” I heard Mom screech. “We’re sortin’ this shit right…fuckin’…now!”
I closed my eyes.
“They’ll go away in a minute and I’ll call North to tell them we’re gonna be late,” Mitch said calmly and I opened my eyes to stare at him, not calmly. In fact, I was pretty certain my eyes were bugging out of my head.
“Mitch!” I hissed.
“It’s gonna be all right,” Mitch soothed, his hands traveling up and down my back, most of which was bare, so this felt really good. “I’m giving them this one. I don’t have time to deal with their bullshit and get you to dinner. They’ll give up and go away then we can go eat and we’ll talk while we eat.”
Jeez, he was stubborn.