Page 53 of Hate to Love You
A tall, slender woman with a medium-length, dark bob walks out of the kitchen with a dishcloth in her hand. A smile touches her lips when she sees me loitering in the doorway.
“Hello.” Curiosity fills her eyes as they slide from mine to Natalie. Because there’s such a striking resemblance between the two women, I’m guessing this must be her mother.
When Natalie remains stoically silent, the older woman asks, “Is this a friend of yours from school?”
“No,” Natalie bites off. Her face tightens as she gives me the evil eye.
If I were more adept at reading subliminal messages, I’d have to wager that Natalie wants me to say that my unannounced appearance on her doorstep is a mistake. Wrong house or something along those lines.
Now, am I going to let Natalie off the hook and invent some cockamamie excuse before slinking back to my truck?
Hell, no.
This situation is much too tempting for me to resist.
“Actually, I’m the boyfriend.” I give Natalie’s mom my most charming smile.
Not only do Natalie’s eyes widen to the point of looking like they might fall out of her head, but she squeaks out some unintelligible response that I can’t make heads or tails of.
Pushing past my slack-jawed girlfriend, I thrust my hand toward the older woman. She looks equally shocked by what I’ve just revealed. “Brody McKinnon. Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Of course, I’m going to trot out my best manners.
“Karen,” she says, still looking surprised. “Natalie’s mother.” Her brow furrows. “Brody McKinnon?” She slants a questioning look at her daughter before her gaze pins mine again. “The same Brody McKinnon who plays hockey at Whitmore?”
I give her a full-wattage grin that makes my dimples flash. Besides Natalie, I haven’t met a woman who doesn’t go all soft and gooey at the sight of them. Hopefully, that’s not a family trait. I want this woman to like me. “Yup, that’s me.”
Karen blinks a few times like she’s trying to play mental catch-up. “And you’re going out with Natalie?” She says this as if it can’t possibly be true.
A chuckle slips out, and I sling an arm around Natalie, tugging her close. “Sure am.”
“Well, that’s very strange because Natalie hasn’t mentioned a word about it. How long has this been going on?”
Natalie gives me a well-honed death stare—one that nearly shrivels my balls—and grits, “It’s more of a recent development.”
If the look on Natalie’s face is any indication, I’m going to pay dearly for letting the cat out of the bag. Knowing this, I still can’t bring myself to regret my decision to seek her out. It’s not like I didn’t give her ample warning about what would happen if she didn’t get her ass to that party. So really, she only has herself to blame for this.
What can I say?
You mess with the bull, you get the horns.
And yet, somehow, I know that I’m the one who’ll end up being gored.
Instead of trying to smooth things over, I dump more gasoline on the fire by adding, “But it’s been a long time in the making. Right, sweetheart?”
She snakes her arm around me and sinks her fingers into my flesh, pinching me. Thank God, she’s not one of those girls with manicured talons. Hers always look bitten to the quick. She’d probably be drawing blood if that weren’t the case.
“Oh, I don’t know if that’s true, sugar-booger.” She bats her lashes, and my chest shakes with ill-concealed mirth. “It seems like I told you where to shove it just last week.”
She pinches me again, and I wince, keeping the smile firmly plastered across my face. “I suppose that’s the beauty of love. You lose all sense of time.”
Natalie bares her teeth as she agrees with the sappy sentiment.
I almost forget about Karen watching us until she murmurs, “Right.” Although it comes out sounding more like riiiiiiiight.
Karen’s eyes bounce between us. I can’t tell if she’s buying this or not. If she’s anything like her daughter, probably not.
“Why don’t you invite your boyfriend in, Natalie. I’d like to get to know him a little better.” Her eyes settle on me. I don’t miss the assessing manner in them. “Have you eaten dinner already, Brody?”
I pat my flat belly. “I can always eat again.” I make it a policy to never turn down a homecooked meal. Those are few and far in-between.