Chapter 13
Cold night air nipped the end of my nose. I hopped into my truck, immediately turning the heating full blast. Nervous energy skipped around my body, making my limbs twitch with the need to shake it out.
My ability to run a successful business and carry a tune without someone calling the police might be questionable, but I knew how to plan a date. So why this one was making me doubt that ability was a thread I wasn’t prepared to pull at.
I could plan a simple date.
Well, I knew how to plan dates with someone who wanted to go on a date.
Planning a date for someone who compared the act to scooping out their eyeballs with a rusty spoon was a little more complicated.
Seeing as this was going to be her first proper date ever—one drink with that posh twat didn’t count—it needed to be perfect.
The worry that this wasn’t special or good enough niggled in the back of my mind as I drove through the city.
This morning, I’d sent her a text telling her when I would pick her up.
She went monosyllabic when I refused to answer all of her probing questions about where we were going or what we were doing.
Her inability to let go and not control every aspect of her life was almost funny.
She couldn’t relax even when I told her to trust me and that I knew what I was doing.
An hour later, she texted me, informing me not to pick her up from her flat. She sent me a different address. All my follow-up questions had gone unanswered. Her version of payback, I presumed.
My confusion grew by the second as I pulled up outside a townhouse on the outskirts of London.
I knocked on the bright yellow front door.
After a few seconds, several locks clicked, and it slowly opened to reveal a woman in a floaty forest green, ankle-length dress.
A dozen necklaces of different makes and sizes hung around her slender neck.
I didn’t need more information to know this was Rosie’s mother.
Thick round glasses perched on the end of the same sloped nose, wild hair with a flare of grey spreading from her roots frizzed around her shoulders.
Her face held the same sharp angles as Rosie’s, and her eyes were a familiar blue.
‘George,’ she breathed my name with a faint smile, like she knew something I didn’t.
Remembering my manners and desperately wanting to make a good impression, I held out my hand, smiling politely. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
She clasped my wrist with both hands. Instead of shaking it, she held it gently, turning it over to expose my palm. She stepped forward to peer intently at my hand, muttering softly. I caught a powerful aroma of incense floating out of the house.
I had met a few parents in my life, but this definitely took top billing as the weirdest encounter I’d ever had. I shuffled my feet on the front stoop and cleared my throat.
‘Is, uh, everything okay?’
Her head popped up, eyes blinking as if I’d pulled her out of a trance.
‘Oh yes. It’s always good to double-check these things.’
My mouth opened, about to ask what “these things” were, when she spun around and glided down the hall, leaving me staring after her.
Okay… I hovered awkwardly outside until she popped her head around the corner she had disappeared around. ‘Do come in, dear. You’re letting all the cold air in.’
‘Right, sorry.’ I sprung into action. I considered myself someone who could roll with the things life threw at me. And usually, it was tough to render me speechless. But this woman had done it in less than thirty seconds of knowing her.
I swallowed past the sudden nerves that crept up my spine and followed her to the kitchen…
actually, was it a kitchen? Dried leaves and flowers hung from most corners of the room.
Old books with fraying edges were splayed open on the counter.
Decorating the white-washed walls were detailed drawings of things I had never seen in my life.
Animals with three heads, pentagrams, and several other images I couldn’t make out.
It looked more like a witches’ potion room than a suburban townhouse.
‘Tea, dear?’
Rosie’s mum gazed at me with the same expression as before, as if she could read my thoughts and was patiently waiting like a loving parent for me to work it out on my own.
‘Sorry, no thanks. I’m just here to pick up Rosie. Is she here?’ I glanced nervously around the room.
‘She’s just getting dressed. She’ll be down in a minute. Plenty of time for a cup of tea.’ Age-worn hands clasped together in glee. She filled up a black kettle and set it down on the stove.
Feeling that arguing with this woman was an exercise in futility, I kept my mouth shut.
‘You’re Oliver’s brother.’ It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway.
‘Yes, ma’am.’
She took two mugs down from a cupboard and chuckled softly. ‘Call me Louise.’
I nodded, shoving my hands deep into my pockets.
‘I’m so happy that Fallon has found someone like him. She deserves it.’ Louise’s voice had a soft lyrical lilt, making every word she spoke sound like a song. I smiled at the fondness in her tone.
‘They both do,’ I said.
We lapsed into awkward silence, the only sound being the soft bubbling of hot water on the stove. I did my best not to avoid her eye contact entirely, a difficult feat when she leaned against the counter, her gaze observing me intensely.
Before I could reduce the awkwardness by asking a dumb question, the sound of something thundering down the stairs at an alarming pace broke the silence.
I had two seconds to react before a giant brown ball of fur pounced into the kitchen, rearing up on its hindquarters and placing two paws on my chest, causing me to topple backwards.
I quickly regained my footing as the German Shepherd started trying to lick my face.
‘Bloody hell,’ I cursed. The dog panted, its cheeks stretched in a broad grin. I answered the obvious plea, burying my hands into its fur and scratching behind its ears.
‘She’s not the most well-trained dog in the world.’ Louise said casually, pouring hot water into the waiting mugs.
Another set of footsteps travelled down the stairs before a sharp voice scolded, ‘Roxy! Down!’
As if pulled by a metaphorical leash, Roxy’s paws dropped from my chest, and she plopped her fluffy butt at my feet—tongue out, staring at her owner.
‘Sorry, I’m working on training her not to jump. It’s a work in progress.’ Rosie flashed apologetic eyes at me.
I barely heard a word she said. My attention was consumed by the vision that stood in the doorway. A long black dress that hugged her curves so tightly it looked painted on had every thought in my head turning to smoke.
There weren’t enough words in the English language to describe how beautiful Rosie looked, but I’d do my damn fucking best to try.
‘You look—’ my voice was nothing more than a husk. Fucking hell. The one time I want to sound verbose, my words vanish.
Rosie arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow. ‘Beautiful? Gorgeous? Or did you want to go for something with fewer syllables? Hot? Sexy?’
She never gave me a break. I huffed out a laugh and wiped a hand down my face.
Shoving my hands into my pockets, I said, ‘I was going to go with something less obvious.’
A wry smile curled her lips. ‘Like?’
I paused, taking her in from head to toe. ‘Exquisite.’
Her mouth parted in surprise. Our eyes locked, and time melted away. I’d die a happy man if this was the last sight I’d ever see.
‘Here’s your tea, dear.’ Louise stepped between us, partially blocking my view of Rosie, a teacup and saucer in her hand.
‘Oh, uh, thank you.’ I reached out to grab it—mainly to be polite—when Rosie strode across the kitchen and swiped the tea from my hands.
‘Mother.’ Her voice dipped low in warning.
Louise blinked several times at her daughter, the picture of innocence.
‘Yes, darling?’
They stared at each other, a silent conversation going on. I didn’t particularly want the tea, but I was British; far be it from me to complain.
‘No tea.’ Rosie thrust the cup back to Louise, who took it with a soft shake of her head.
‘You are so dramatic. It was just tea.’ She returned the cup to the sink and put it on the counter.
Rosie half-heartedly rolled her eyes and turned to me. ‘Shall we?’
What the hell had just happened? I shot a questioning gaze at Rosie, who shook her head. Okay.
‘Uh, yeah, of course.’
Unperturbed by her daughter, Louise waved her hands toward the front door. ‘Go go, this little pooch will be happy here until tomorrow.’
I couldn’t help myself. ‘Tea?’ I asked when we got into the car, smirking at the weighty sigh that slipped past her lips.
Her head cocked in my direction. ‘If my mother ever tries to offer you tea. Just say no.’
‘I did,' I pointed out. ‘She ignored me.’
She huffed out a laugh. ‘Yeah, that sounds about right.’
‘What’s with the tea?’ I turned the car on, pulling away from the curb.
‘Apart from most of it being disgusting because she makes it herself, you never know what she puts in it.’
My gaze flicked to her sitting in the passenger seat. Her hair flowed around her shoulders in soft curls, her pale skin coated in the soft amber glow from the passing street lamps.
‘I’m on the edge of my seat.’ I glanced at her with a smirk.
‘She likes to experiment with different ingredients. Makes up different types of tea with odd things she finds. And she’s not overly bothered whether or not those things are actually edible.’
I suppressed a shudder. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘The last cup of tea I took from her, which nearly made me vomit, was made of rose hip, ground radishes, cinnamon, and roasted cockroaches.’
Seeing my horrified expression, she sighed. ‘Yeah, it was as bad as you’re imagining.’
‘No tea. Got it.’
Now we’d been driving for a bit, she sat up straight, looking out the window. ‘Are you gonna tell me where we’re going now?’
Not bothering to stifle how happy I was that I managed to surprise her, I grinned. ‘You’ll see.’
All my previous worries vanished when we hopped out of the car. Her face lit up with excitement when she saw the neon sign flicker outside the club, and she jumped out of the car before I reached her door, letting out the sweetest squeal.
‘This is the first date?’ she questioned, the happiness twinkling in her eyes. ‘I’ve never been to a comedy club before.’
‘I know.’ I rounded the hood of the car, coming to stand in front of her. I held out my hand. Her eyes dipped down, and I saw the faint flicker of uncertainty. It lasted as long as her next breath before she slid her hand into mine. One simple gesture felt like the greatest gift I’d ever received.
‘How’d you know?’ she asked as we walked across the car park, heading into the venue.
‘I’m a master of deduction.’
She gave me a knowing smile. ‘You called Fallon.’
I pressed my fingers to my lips, dropping my voice to a low whisper, ‘Just be impressed, sweetheart.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, I am,’ she giggled, and fucking hell, that sound shot straight through me.