22. Not Officially
Chapter 22
Not Officially
Mensa
Mensa trudged out to Whitney’s kitchen, the smell of sausage permeating the air. Thus far, they’d had a lazy weekend. Whitney had wanted to focus on unpacking boxes on Friday night and Saturday, but Mensa convinced her to go to the movies with him, then spend Saturday binging The Brothers Sun on Netflix.
Whitney put a plate on the breakfast bar for him. “Eggs, sausage, and home fries. I went with over-easy on your eggs, and cooked yours first because I’m having mine scrambled and I didn’t want the milk to cause you problems.”
He dragged a hand down his face. “Yeah, over-easy works for me. But seriously woman, you don’t have to knock yourself out to cook for me.”
She wore pajama shorts and a skimpy tank-top. The way she cocked her hip to the side, he wasn’t sure what made it sexier: the pajamas or her attitude. “I wanted to cook for you. I figure Sunday morning breakfast is one of the easiest things I can make for you.”
He tipped his head back with a groan, then focused on her. “That reminds me, we’re supposed to have dinner tonight at my parents’ house.”
Her eyes went wide.
“You don’t need to freak out, Whit. Hell, I’m pretty sure Riley and Finn will be there. In fact, I’ll make sure they are.”
She gave three short nods. “Yeah, that’ll help.”
“Woman. I’m serious. Don’t freak out. It’s just my parents, two of our friends, and Jonah.”
She leaned forward. “Exactly! It’s your parents !”
He narrowed an eye at her. “You were in Riley’s wedding party. Didn’t you meet them then?”
Her mouth dropped open, but she didn’t speak for a long moment. Finally she got it together. “That isn’t the same thing at all , Mensa.”
Two slices of toast popped up, and he pointed at the toaster. “Get your toast and eat with me, Whitney.”
After a short stare down, she grabbed her plate, put her toast on it, and joined him.
“You ever meet Jonah?” he asked.
She hesitated. “He was at the wedding, but I didn’t really meet him. Not officially.”
“But you’ve met him unofficially?” he asked, unable to resist fucking with her.
She turned to him and gave him a look that said, ‘very funny.’ After she swallowed a sip of orange juice, she said, “No, but in addition to the wedding, I’ve seen plenty of photos and videos of him. Plus, the few times Riley would talk about him, it felt like I’d been introduced to him. That doesn’t make sense, I’m sure—”
He shook his head. “No, it makes perfect sense. Riley loves him, and with the shit that happened to them both, she was forced into being his caregiver. Whenever she talks to anyone about him, her love comes through to the point it’s almost like he’s at her side, so I get it.”
“What are you parents like?”
“Good humans,” he muttered.
She laughed.
He shot her a stern look. “I’m not joking, Blume. Seeing as you were part of an investigation into Mom’s brother, that’s the best way to answer your question. She’s nothing like my uncle.”
She grabbed his forearm. “To be fair, that’s clear because you’re nothing like your uncle either.”
He covered her hand with his. “You’re right. So, that tells you everything you need to know about them until dinner. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. They’re gonna love you.”
“You’d say that regardless.”
“Probably, but you have to admit, you’re the one putting pressure on here. My mom could care less if you show up wearing a burlap sack or an evening gown. She’s heard I’m serious about someone, and she just wants to meet you.”
She leaned back and pulled her hand from his forearm. “Oh, shit. I don’t know what I’m gonna wear!”
He dipped his chin. “Are you fucking with me right now? Didn’t you hear what I said? She won’t care, Whit. Meeting you is the goal and you’re putting too much emphasis on a meal.”
Her expression cleared, and he thought her freak-out had passed.
He thought wrong.
“You only get one first impression, Ragstone. I need to make this count.”
Nothing for it. He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her lips to his. Once he felt her relax into his hold, he broke the kiss.
He waited until she opened her eyes before he spoke. “You don’t need to do shit, babe. Nadia’s shop is closed today. Want to hit the beach?”
Her eyes skated toward a stack of boxes. “No. I need to unpack at least half a dozen more boxes. Besides, it’s supposed to rain this afternoon.”
He nodded. “You want my help with that, or would you rather me get out of your hair?”
She paused. “It’s up to you. If you leave me alone, I’ll probably go shopping for something to wear. If you stay, you’ll probably be bored to tears while I unpack shit… fair warning, I’m a bit of control freak about where things go.”
That made him grin. “You think a toddler’s gonna give a shit about your need to control where shit goes?”
She narrowed one eye at him. “You’re not a toddler.”
He leaned toward her. “No, but you said your clock is ticking. We love each other… if we’re really doing this, you need to start thinking about how our first kid is gonna rock your world.”
After a long blink, she leaned back, turned her head to the side, and then back to him. “I’m pretty sure you just rocked my world plenty, since I haven’t even met your parents yet.”
“Not trying to rock your world, trying to get you to loosen up, babe. Let me help you unpack. You don’t like where I put your LeCrusette, you can move it.”
That got both eyes narrowed at him. “I knew you judged my cookware back in Jackson.”
He slid off his stool and grabbed both their plates. “I’d never judge you about that. Let’s get this shit done. Then if it isn’t raining, maybe we’ll hit the beach after all.”
Whitney wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “There isn’t enough time for us to hit the beach, and for me to get ready for meeting your parents.”
He broke down the last cardboard box he’d emptied. “It’s just dinner, babe. What you wear won’t matter.”
She shook her head. “Nope. It matters. Either way, it takes like twenty minutes to get to the beach from here, then you gotta find parking…we’d have to come back after like ten minutes.”
He gave her a curt nod. “You’re right. Let’s hit the complex pool instead. We can swim for an hour, and the bonus is, we can shower together when we’re done.”
“Any other time that would be a selling point, but I need to figure out what I’m wearing.”
“That red shirt you wore to karaoke would work.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you crazy? I can’t possibly wear that! It’s obvious that’s for hitting a bar. Your beloved family home is not the place for that top and those jeans.”
He fought off a chuckle. “Go put your bikini on, Blume.”
She shot him a pointed look. “It’s a one-piece. What about you? Do you have swim trunks here? You can’t skinny-dip in that pool.”
Battle lost, his head tilted back with laughter. When he got control of himself, Whitney only appeared half-amused.
“I was being serious.”
“Yeah, that’s why it’s so fuckin’ funny. I’m not the type to skinny-dip in a community pool, woman. Hell, a couple of the brothers have pools in their back yards and most of them don’t even skinny-dip in their own pools. I brought a duffel over here, and I packed my swim trunks.”
Her tone became haughty. “Well, I learned something new about you.”
“You puttin’ your suit on, or what?”
“Yes.”
Mensa parked Whitney’s Elantra in his parents’ driveway. He rested his wrist on the top of the steering wheel. “You over your snit?”
She turned her head to him. “I’m not having a snit, Mensa.”
“You sure?”
Her chin went up an inch. “Very. I was nervous, and letting me drive would have kept me from—”
He interrupted her by wrapping his hand around her neck. “You don’t need to be nervous.”
“I said, ‘I was nervous’. And I was quiet on the way here because it’s weird being a passenger in my own car. Not to mention, I’m curious if you driving was just an alpha-male thing or if you don’t trust my driving.”
“I’ll go with both.”
“What?” she demanded.
He chuckled and let go of her neck. “I’m messing with you, though driving back from Jackson behind you, I noticed you got one helluva a heavy foot.”
She sighed. “The interstate is different, Ragstone.” She looked out the window. “Where’s Riley’s car?”
He followed her gaze. “Not sure. They might be on Finn’s bike and running late.”
She nodded, pulled down the visor, and inspected her lips.
He leaned toward her. “Whitney, you look great. Mom’s gonna love you.”
“You would say that. You’re biased, and you picked out my dress.”
He laughed. “After we showered, you laid out three dresses and told me to choose.”
It had been a no-brainer, too. The short, purple, polka-dot dress showed off her legs and a hint of cleavage.
Finn rode his bike up the drive and parked behind them. Riley scurried off the Harley, put her helmet on the seat, and beelined it to the passenger-side door.
Whitney opened her door, smiling at Riley. “Hey, there.”
“Hey, yourself. I love your dress. It’s so cute.”
Whitney nodded. “Thanks. Do you have Sunday dinner here often? Or just when I need moral support?”
Riley laughed. “About twice a month. You’re gonna love Aunt Celeste’s pot roast. The potatoes she makes to go with it are heavenly.”
“Are you four gonna jack your jaws out here all night?” Dad called from the front door.
Mensa replied while moving to Whitney’s side. “No, sir. We’re coming inside.”
With his arm around her shoulders, he led Whitney around the corner of the garage to the front door, where his Dad stood, leaning against the jamb. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a royal blue polo shirt. Mom had likely insisted that Dad look like he was putting in the effort.
Dad smiled at them. “Hello, Whitney. I’m Dean Ragstone, I’m not sure if you remember meeting me at Riley’s wedding, but it’s a pleasure to see you again.”
She reached out and shook Dad’s hand. “Mr. Ragstone, it’s great to see you again, too.”
Dad shook his head. “None of that formal business, call me Dean. Come inside, all of you.”
Whitney hesitated in the hallway, and Mensa guided her toward the kitchen.
“Hey, Ma,” he called, before they rounded the corner.
“Hi, Kenneth,” Mom said, wiping her hands on a dish towel, then leaning up to kiss his cheek.
She smiled at him, and turned to Whitney. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about you, Whitney. I’m Celeste. Do you want something to drink?”
Mensa caught Whitney’s gaze. “You want a beer? Dad only drinks IPAs – or do you want wine?”
She gave a short head shake at the mention of an IPA. “A glass of wine would be good.”
Dad had the corkscrew twisted into the unopened bottle of wine. “Celeste, you want a glass, too?”
“I’ll wait until the food’s ready,” Mom said.
“Do you need any help?” Whitney asked.
Mom shook her head. “Thank you, but I’m just waiting on the biscuits to finish, then we’ll sit down to eat.”
Riley handed Whitney a glass of wine. “Aunt Celeste is a one-woman show in the kitchen.”
Whitney’s smile seemed hesitant, and she glanced at Mom. “Nothing wrong with that. Too many cooks in the kitchen makes everything more difficult.”
“You got that right,” Finn said.
“We’ll set the table. I’ll show you where the plates are,” Riley said and led Whitney to the cabinet with the plates.
Finn handed him an open bottle of beer.
He caught Dad’s gaze. “Where’s Jonah? Upstairs?”
Mom answered just as the timer went off for the biscuits. “He was in the shower when you got here, so he should be down soon, but he isn’t staying for dinner.”
Mensa cocked his head. “He isn’t?”
“He and Denver are headed to a concert,” Dad said.
Riley bustled into the room. “Do you want me to grab an extra chair? We’re short one.”
Finn chuckled. “You’re off your game, babe. They just said Jonah’s got plans.”
Her expression shifted to realization. “Oh, that’s right. 3 Doors Down is playing at one of the casinos tonight.”
Whitney wandered up behind Riley. “Then I’ll take the extra place setting off the table.”
The stairs creaked and Mensa went to the foot of the stairs.
Jonah came down wearing jeans and a faded Ozzy Osbourne t-shirt. “Hey, cuz.”
“Hey, man. I have someone I want you to meet.”
“You do?”
Mensa nodded. “Won’t take long. I heard you’ve been looking forward to seeing 3 Doors Down.”
“I didn’t know they were in town,” Whitney said, sidling up to Mensa.
Mensa grinned at her. “Yeah, Jonah’s a huge fan.”
She beamed at Jonah and introduced herself. “I’m sorry you won’t be here for dinner. I was looking forward to getting to know you, but I’m also jealous you get to see one of my favorite bands.”
Jonah nodded, but Mensa sensed he was getting antsy.
There was a light knock on the door, and Mensa glanced that way. “Denver picking you up, J?”
Jonah laughed. “Yeah. She insisted.”
Mensa clapped Jonah on the shoulder. “Have a great time.”
Jonah nodded, called out goodbyes to everyone, and left.
Mensa caught Whitney’s gaze. “Still feel like you know him?”
Mom hurried past them carrying a small pot, a trivet, and a spoon. “Time to eat. If you need to wash up, hurry.”
Dad followed her with the heavy crock pot in tow. “Grab a beer for me, son.”
“Since Jonah’s not here and we put the leaf in the table, your father and I aren’t going to sit at the foot and the head of the table. Besides, us sitting at either end of the table always seems too formal,” Mom said, as everyone gathered.
Mensa made sure he sat next to Whitney. Dad took the center seat on the other side of the table, Riley sat to his left, with Mom on his right. That left Finn sitting on the other side of Whitney.
After they said grace, Mom aimed an inquisitive look at him and Whitney. “I couldn’t help but overhear the two of you after Jonah left. Why would you feel like you know him? Besides Riley and Finn’s wedding, this is the first time the two of you met.”
Riley and Mensa started in at the same time, but Whitney lifted her hand up at them. “It’s okay.” Her eyes met Mom’s. “I was part of the investigation into Judge Tyndale. My assignment was to befriend Riley, and being part of the investigating team, I saw and heard plenty of recordings that had Jonah in them. But mostly,” she glanced at Riley, “I don’t think it’s possible to be friends with Riley and not know about her brother.”
“I could argue that,” Finn muttered.
Whitney smirked at Finn. “As I understand it, you weren’t exactly friends since you ghosted her.”
Riley chuckled.
Whitney glanced back at Mom. “The way Riley talks about Jonah, it felt like I’d already met him.”
Mom shifted her gaze between Mensa and Whitney. “Riley told me that you were between jobs.”
Whitney shrugged a shoulder. “My Aunt Nadia is retiring soon. She’s either going to close her shop, or I’m taking it over. Right now, I’m learning as much as I can from her, so I’ll know if Hard Pressed will be successful when I’m in charge.”
Dad picked up his beer, but simply held it over the table. “You gave up a job with the FBI for this?”
Mensa sighed. In a low voice, he said, “Dad.”
Whitney patted his leg under the table. “It’s all right, and it’s the same question my brother and other family members asked me.”
He twisted his head to give her a look. “I understand that, but it doesn’t make it ‘all right,’ babe.”