Layover (Open Skies #1) - Becca Jameson Page 0,41

seeing someone else?”

Fuck. She needed to dodge that question in case her mother walked in. “That’s not what matters, Eddie. I’m just not interested.”

He smiled and had the audacity to reach out and stroke her cheek. “Well, I’m here now. Let’s enjoy the evening and see how it goes.”

Her mother walked in with the steaming pot in her hand moments later, her father following.

Her mother’s smile was huge. “Let’s all sit.” She set the pot down and then clapped her hands together one time in that annoying way she often did to punctuate her words.

Libby stared at Eddie for several seconds, shocked by his tenacity. The man pulled out a chair for her, for fuck’s sake. Libby sat, her heart pounding. What the hell was she going to do?

Her mother started rambling, asking Eddie a thousand questions as if the two of them had arrived to announce their engagement. Eddie answered every question as if he were the poster child for politeness. Libby wanted to stab his fake self with her fork.

And since when did her mother make stew and serve it with bread? Since never. Libby didn’t listen very carefully to the ridiculous small talk because her ears were ringing, but she caught the edge of a conversation about the fact that Eddie was so Americanized—her mother’s exact word—that he preferred American cooking.

Libby’s brows raised. Apparently, it was okay for the man to be American as long as his parents hailed from Guatemala. Libby felt like she was watching a job interview. Eddie was being interviewed as an appropriate suitor, and he was passing with flying colors. No one seemed to care what Libby thought.

Her father glanced at her several times. He even looked a bit chagrined as if he realized this situation was all kinds of fucked-up and wanted to apologize with his eyes, but the man didn’t say a word.

As soon as it seemed even marginally reasonable, Libby wiped her lips, dropped her napkin, and pushed to standing. “I can’t stay. I have to work early tomorrow. Thanks for dinner, Mamá.” She nodded at her father and then reluctantly at Eddie and turned to head for the front door.

“I’ll walk you out,” Eddie stated, jumping up to rush behind her.

Libby walked fast, unamused to say the least. She forced Eddie to nearly jog to keep up with her as she stepped out the front door and rushed toward her car.

She was shaking as she unlocked the car with her fob.

Eddie set his hand on the roof, blocking her. “Hey. I guess this wasn’t such a great idea, huh?”

She rolled her eyes and cocked her head. “Ya think?”

He shrugged, looking irritated. “When your mom called, I assumed you had spoken favorably about me to her. That’s why I came.”

“Well, I didn’t speak of you at all, Eddie. She dreams this shit up on her own.”

He had the decency to at least wince. “Okay, but I still think we should go out again sometime. We had a good time that night. My friends loved you.”

His friends couldn’t have loved her. She barely spoke to them, and they barely acknowledged her.

“Eddie, there’s no other way for me to say this. I’m not interested. It’s not going to happen between us.” Was this guy dense?

He patted the top of her car. “Well, I disagree. I think you should consider another date with me. I’ll call you in a few days.”

She groaned. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

He shrugged. “We’ll see. We make a good couple. My parents and your parents are friends. A relationship between us is so tidy. They would all be thrilled. Win-win. Plus, I’m attracted to you. You’re smoking hot.” He reached out to stroke her cheek, grinning.

She swatted his hand away and then shoved his body back a few feet so she could climb into the car and slam the door. Without another glance—because seriously, he didn’t deserve one—she drove away.

She was so fucking pissed. Her hands were shaking on the steering wheel. She’d meant to go straight to Jason’s house, but now she didn’t think that was a good idea. Not in this state of mind—furious. Besides, what the hell was she going to say to him? He was going to be equally irate. Rightfully so.

When am I going to grow a spine?

She headed back to her townhouse, and when she got there, she grabbed her overnight bag from the back seat and went inside.

Christa was on the couch watching television and painting her nails.