Upside Down (Breaking the Rules #3) - A.M. Madden Page 0,79

hugged her back and grinned as Ricky’s gaze flicked up toward the ceiling.

I loved her.

I loved everything about Cindy Burrows.

Once Ricky finally yanked the stick out of his ass, we spent hours chatting on the screened-in porch. Cindy knew just how to handle her son by pulling out photo albums scanning Ricky’s growth, telling stories with the sole purpose of embarrassing him, and making it a point to ask me about my family and life.

I loved being there.

But after Cindy received a call on her cell and excused herself, upon her return the time eventually came for Ricky to bring up John. “What’s that dude’s story?”

“Your aunt Mindy had a friend who met a nice man on an online dating site. So I joined.”

“How well do they screen their members?” Ricky asked.

“He’s not a serial killer, Ricky.” She rolled her eyes the same way her son often did. “We met at a coffee shop in broad daylight and instantly hit it off.” While studying his scowl, she paused before saying, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I planned to soon, I promise. But I knew just how you’d react, and you have to admit I wasn’t off the mark.” Sliding from her chair, she grabbed the pitcher and refilled my iced tea before casually admitting, “He makes me feel young.” Ignoring her son’s groan, she added, “And he’s a very nice man.”

“Mom, there are nice men in Florida… tons of them. I hate you being here all alone in this big house while I’m worrying that someone will try to take advantage of you.”

Leaning closer, she placed a hand on her son’s. “Ricky, John Miller owns Miller Technologies.” At both of our shocked expressions, she nodded. “Yeah. He doesn’t need my money.” Shit, that man was loaded. I owned a few of his gadgets myself.

Her attention focused on the glass she held as her cheeks tinged a soft pink. When she lifted her gaze, she added softly, “I love him. He loves me. I haven’t been this happy since your father was alive.” That time, when she reached across the space, she gripped his hand in hers. “I’m happy again.”

When he remained silent, I squeezed his knee, hoping to prompt him to speak. He didn’t at first, but something seemed to soften his ire when he said, “I’m sorry.”

“For?” His brows rising forced her to wave a hand. “Specifics, please.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. What exactly are you sorry for, Ricky?”

I had to suppress a smile. It seemed Ricky was a man of few words in any difficult situation.

“I’ll help you,” she went on to say as the corners of her eyes crinkled and a sly smile spread across her lips. “I accept your apology for being a complete and total asshole.”

“Whatever.” Releasing her hand, he huffed. “Your friend is lucky that I wasn’t armed.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ricky

My mom wasn’t surprised when I wanted to order in dinner from my favorite restaurant. Never the happy homemaker type, her forte wasn’t whipping up a four-course meal, as Cooper’s mom so easily could. But I never felt slighted growing up. Mom’s twin, Aunt Mindy, had gotten the domestic gene, and since we spent every holiday and special occasion together, I benefited greatly.

But Mom, well, she could throw a mean party. She loved appetizers and finger foods and would think nothing of catering a Friday-night hangout with my friends from our favorite sushi restaurant. Give teenagers a buffet of gourmet munchies and turn a blind eye when they indulged in a beer—or five—and that made her very popular among them.

The drinking had been allowed only once we turned eighteen. Her condition was that no one drove home and had to stay over. She claimed she’d rather have us all where she could keep an eye on us than to be gallivanting all over town. Personally, I knew she loved when the house was filled with people.

My friends never minded and shamelessly allowed her to spoil them as well. That meant we all woke to more of the royal treatment the next morning—specifically, a hired chef whipping up custom omelets at my mom’s rarely used Viking stove. And it had become a common occurrence when she couldn’t get rid of my friends for weekends at a time. Club Burrows was what my home came to be called.

It was a very confusing time for me. I knew I was gay, and I suspected she knew I was, but none of my friends did. When I came out to her, I