Chapter Twenty
Another surprise date.
Not a surprise as in, Surprise, I showed up at your door.
Surprise as in, Surprise, we’re going someplace, and I’m not telling you where.
I like Blake. A lot. And I was thrilled when he called to ask if I was free on Sunday. After spending the week wondering about a follow-up to the millions of flowers he’d sent, after writing my fingers to the bone, hearing from him was like rain in the desert.
With me being the desert. I don’t even know if my metaphors make sense anymore. After writing so hard for a solid week, I can barely think straight.
Now, running down the stairs to meet Blake at the car, I have to wonder what he has in mind.
He told me to dress casually. Are we going to Philly for a famous cheesesteak?
Or maybe to a movie, like normal people?
I find it hard to imagine him sitting in a movie theater with a hundred others, but who knows?
He tries to be a regular person, no matter how far removed he is from regular life.
He’s wearing jeans. I didn’t even think he owned jeans.
“Hi,” he offers, looking a little sheepish. He runs a hand through his sandy-blond hair. Is he nervous?
“Hi yourself. You look great.”
And he does. I’ve always been a sucker for jeans and good shoes. Especially if the man in question can wear jeans as well as he can. I need to fan myself at the sight of him. A cold shower might be nice too.
“Thanks. So do you, but then you always do.” He must take heart at the way I don’t, you know, rip his head off at first sight.
Did he think I was still mad at him? I wouldn’t have agreed to go out with him if I were still upset.
His smile is more genuine, and he even leans down to kiss my cheek.
“So, where are we going?” I have to ask when we’re in the car. “I can’t stand the suspense.”
“Sorry about that.” He grimaces. “I didn’t know if my plans would work out at first, so I thought it made more sense to keep quiet until things firmed up.”
“And they have?”
“They have.” He rubs his hands on his thighs.
He really is nervous. Why?
“What’s wrong? Is this a bad day?”
Goodness knows, things move fast in his world. A sudden phone call, and everything turns upside down.
He shakes his head, frowning. “No, don’t get that idea. I’m a little nervous, I admit. I told myself this was totally casual—and it is! Don’t get me wrong. It’s completely casual, just a simple dinner. No big deal.”
“Dinner where?”
It can’t be anyplace fancy since he’s as dressed down as I’ve ever seen him. The shirt he’s wearing is open at the first two buttons, for heaven’s sake. That’s pretty casual.
“Dinner … at my mom’s house.”
I should’ve known somehow. I should’ve sensed it. “Stop playing,” I whisper anyway, hoping this is a joke. Because it has to be. He can’t be serious. “You’re taking me to meet your mother?”
“It’s not like that.”
“You are taking me. To meet. Your mother. There’s not much of a gray area there. You’re either introducing me to her or you aren’t. That’s a big deal.”
Darn him. He looks legitimately surprised by my reaction, like it never once occurred to him that I might freak out.
“I’m not bringing you out there as my girlfriend! I told Mom you were an author, and she asked who, and I mentioned your name, and she was more excited than I’d imagined she’d be. I had no idea she’d recognize you.”
“Okay …” I’m not convinced. If anything, knowing I’m meeting her as a fan leaves me shakier than ever. His mother. His mother! What is wrong with him? Isn’t he supposed to be smart? How’d he end up making so much money?
“Turns out, she’s read your books since my sister recommended them. They’re both big fans.” Then, as an afterthought, “Oh, she’ll be there too.”
“Your sister?” I squeak. This is entirely too much for my poor, overtaxed heart. It’s practically beating out of my chest. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Come here.” He pulls me into his arms, chuckling softly. I could smack him silly for acting like this is funny. “It’s not that big a deal. I promise. I thought it would be nice for them and for you. A departure. Something quiet and relaxed.”
“Relaxed.” I laugh. “Meanwhile, I’m wondering how high my blood pressure can go before I have a stroke.”
“We don’t have to do this. I should’ve talked it over with you first.” He sounds so sad as he leans back, looking down at me. “That’s a real problem of mine. I get a great idea and don’t think about how it might be read by others. I’m so sorry.”
It seems like he’s always having to apologize. Granted, he needs to—this is a truly messed up idea, sneaking me away to his mother’s house without finding out if I feel comfortable with the idea—but still. His heart is in the right place.
“It’s fine. Really. I’m sure they’re both very nice. I was surprised, is all. I mean, you know what taking a girl to meet your mother usually implies.”
Was this the right thing to say? I don’t know, but it’s not like this is the first time I’ve tripped over my tongue.
His eyes widen. “I don’t want you to have that idea,” he deadpans without so much as a ghost of a smile or a twinkle in his eye.
“I don’t have it. Which is why this came as a surprise. That’s what I’m trying to say.”
But the damage has been done. He stiffens and sits up straight, his arms loosening when they held me so firmly only a few seconds ago.
This is going well.
The flight is uneventful with Blake holding my hand now and then. When he’s not busy on his phone. Here I was, sort of hoping we could get in a little smooching today. But no, he’s freaked out because I suggested the obvious conclusion anybody with half a brain would have come to.
“No champagne today,” I note with a soft laugh. “That’s for the best. I’m not good at first impressions as it is. I don’t need alcohol making things worse.”
“Stop saying things like that.” He finally looks up from the screen, dark eyes locking on to mine. “You’re too hard on yourself. You’re not the awkward person you think you are.”
“Blake, when we first met, I was on my hands and knees with my hair in my face. Pretty awkward.”
“Not your fault either. And in case you couldn’t tell”—he plants a kiss on my cheek and then another on my lips—“it didn’t make me like you any less.”
I can’t argue with that. We land in Phoenix—where, of course, it’s two hours earlier than on the East Coast. Plenty of time for me to get to know the family before dinner. My stomach lurches at the thought.
Though if he thinks this is okay, that there’s nothing deeper going on, I’m willing to play along. I only hope neither woman asks what I’m currently working on.
“Can I ask a favor?”
We’re in a rental car that was waiting for us when we landed, a sleek Maserati that practically floats over the road.
“Of course.”
“If either of them asks what I’m working on right now, can you pretend you don’t know? I’d rather keep it on the down-low—the content’s a little steamier than I usually write.”
“Sure thing. You’re right; that would be awkward if they knew we’d started seeing each other to provide inspiration.
” He pats my leg and then squeezes a little.
“Hey. You don’t have to feel embarrassed by what you’re writing.
People have sex. I know it’s not what you usually write, but I doubt anybody would clutch their pearls too hard at a few sex scenes. ”
“You might be surprised. I just barely managed to unclench my hand from around my own pearls.”
“Am I at least half-decent in this book? At the sex stuff?”
“Blake.”
“I wanna know! Can you blame me? Is my character hung?”
“He’s not really your character. He’s somebody based on you. His apartment looks a lot like yours, and his jet is similar. He has a friend who owns the hottest restaurant in Dallas, and he takes her there on a whim.”
“Okay. I can live with those differences.” He squeezes my leg again. “But if you could give him a huge cock, that would be nice.”
My cheeks just about burst into flames, but I have to laugh as I tell him, “I’ll see what I can do.”
I don’t know what I expected his mother’s house to be like.
I knew he’d bought it for her, so it had to be nice.
Large, comfortable. I didn’t expect what looks like an oversize cottage, the white picket fence that surrounds it covered in climbing vines, which also decorate the white brick walls.
There’s a lush green lawn, cut down the center by a brick pathway leading up to the door and flowering bushes lining either side.
“I didn’t expect it to be so green,” I admit, looking around in wonder. “It’s beautiful.”
“Mom’s always had a green thumb. She did a lot of research into what grows best out here. I think it helped her adjust—she didn’t want to leave home, you know. But it was either move or have constant bronchitis.”
He leads me up the pathway, my hand in his, and I wish I had brought a little gift or something.
A blonde bullet comes running at us as soon as the door’s open and we’re one step inside the massive foyer. “Hi, hi, hi, oh my gosh!” It all comes out at once as a pair of arms close around me.
“Britt! Don’t maul her!” But Blake is laughing as he frees me from who I’m guessing is his sister. “Let’s not scare her away, okay?”
“It’s okay.” I hold a hand out to Britt, who’s basically a miniature female version of her brother with longer hair and a wider smile. “I’m Kitty.”
“I know!” she gushes as she squeezes my hand until it almost hurts.
“I’m sorry. I know I’m making a huge fool out of myself, but I’ve been a fan of yours for so long.
When I found out Blake was bringing you for dinner, I just about died.
I mean, I literally almost stopped breathing. I love your books so much.”
She’s a whirlwind, to put it mildly.
“Thank you so much for that.” I smile, breathless and shaky and hoping she doesn’t mind the new direction my work is going in.
Her smile is just about blinding. “Come on. Let’s go find Mom. She’s in the kitchen, I guess. Killing the fatted calf and all that.”
“No pressure,” Blake murmurs in a warning way as his sister slides an arm around my waist and steers me through the charming, cozy house and into a sunny kitchen.
Mrs. Marlin is a beautiful woman with a warm, loving smile. “There’s my fella.” She grins as she goes in to hug Blake. Her Philly accent is much stronger than either Britt’s or Blake’s—his is almost nonexistent really. I guess he must’ve worked it out of his system over time.
“Hey, Mom. This is Kitty. I was a real idiot and didn’t tell her we were coming here until we were on the way to the hangar, so the three of you can berate me all you want.” He has a way of defusing any situation, this Blake. No wonder he’s so successful in business.
His mother smacks his arm. Britt smacks the other.
“Why would you do that to her?” Britt demands before smacking him again. “You’re a real moron.”
I can’t deny that this is fun to watch. The big, powerful mogul being scolded by the women in his life. He’s even red-faced, which is like the cherry on top. It takes a lot of my self-control to keep from laughing.
“Forgive him, honey,” his mother sighs before giving me a much gentler hug than her daughter did. “I did my best to raise him right, but I might’ve dropped him on his head once. The early days are a blur.”
I like her even more than I imagined I would.