On My Way - Eve Langlais Page 0,24

features. I especially didn’t like the smirk.

“I’m Naomi. Winnie’s mom.” A lame reply since he’d probably surmised who I was already.

“I know all about you.” The word hung like an icicle threat between us.

I really should invite him in and close the door. Stop heating the outside, as my grandma used to say.

“Really? Because Winnie hasn’t said squat really about you. Do you live close by?” I asked, talking for the sake of being polite. It beat inviting him in. I really wasn’t keen on it.

“I’ve recently relocated.” Which wasn’t really an answer. “Did you get the plant I sent?”

“Plant?” I blanked for a second before remembering the hideous thing. “Um, thanks?”

He grinned. “Think of it as a welcome home present.”

Where was my daughter? I couldn’t believe she was dating this guy. His creep meter was off the charts. Maybe he was gaslighting me. Perhaps I had my attacker at the door. Maybe, he’d killed Winnie’s boyfriend and was pretending to take his place.

“Winnie’s just getting changed,” I said. “She’ll be out in a second.”

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” I was pretty sure I didn’t imagine the taunting dare in his expression. He obviously sensed I didn’t want him in my house.

How could I be sure he was Winnie’s boyfriend? My intuition screamed he was bad news.

“What are your intentions in regard to my daughter?” I asked, even as I knew Winnie would hate it. I couldn’t help myself. A man this old and creepy had no business screwing with my kid.

“I’d say my intentions are obvious. Banging the fuck out of your slutty daughter. I wonder, does the apple fall far from the tree?” He leered as he eyed me. “Been a while since I’ve had a mother-daughter threesome.

I inhaled sharply. “Excuse me?”

“A threesome. With you and that slut of a daughter you pushed out. Admit it, you’ve thought of it.”

“You’re disgusting,” I hissed. I prepared to close the door in his face, so that was of course when Winnie chose to emerge.

“Mother! Why haven’t you let Jude in?”

The urge to whirl and repeat what he’d said was strong. So strong, but then I saw his face. Pretending to be aggrieved.

“I don’t think your mother cares for me. I should probably leave,” he said, turning to go.

“Don’t be silly. My mother is fine with you coming over. Aren’t you?” she said with a glare at me.

Invite him in? Nope. Still couldn’t do it. But Winnie wouldn’t like that answer. If I mentioned the fact the cat didn’t care for him, would she listen? Because I knew she wouldn’t listen to me. I still couldn’t believe he’d said something so vile. What if Winnie thought I was a liar?

Winnie brushed past me. “I’m sorry, honey. Come in.”

No. I didn’t say it, but I thought it, and I would have sworn the house listened because, despite Wendy tugging at his hand, not one bit of that disgusting man crossed that threshold, and the knuckles that brushed that invisible line turned quite white.

The chill seeping from the outside deepened, and I could see my breath. Which kind of only reinforced my sense of dread.

“Your mother must invite me,” Jude insisted, his black-eyed gaze fixing me. Like staring into a bottomless abyss.

“Don’t be silly. You’re welcome. Tell him, Mom.”

I couldn’t do it. But Winnie eyeballed me waiting for a reply. I had to say something.

Anything.

“I don’t want him in my house.” I said it.

Winnie froze. Turned to look at me.

“He’s not a nice man,” I hastened to say.

“How would you know? He just got here. You haven’t even given him a chance,” Winnie snapped.

I had to explain, make her understand. “You didn’t hear what he said.”

“What I said?” He played the victim. “That when it came to beauty, I could see the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.”

“What about after that? Tell her the rest. Tell her the disgusting thing you said to me.”

Winnie crossed her arms over her chest. “Seriously, mom? Are you getting your panties in a twist because he cursed? Because I remember how you and Dad used to get so upset when I said fuck. Or shit. Even ass, for fuck’s sake.”

I managed to not wince. But I wanted to as each word hit me.

“You never warned me your mother was a prude,” he stated.

“I’m not, but what he said. It was more than vulgar; it was sexual.”

“Are you really going to claim my boyfriend hit on you?” she exclaimed, as if it were ridiculous.

I should