Chapter Twelve #4
what they started in the shower and he could dream up new places to have her.
His couch was going to be one.
The island too.
And her kitchen counter.
And the couch he’d slept on without her for a week.
These thoughts on his mind, Lottie’s taste in his mouth, Mo
broke the kiss, trailed his lips to her ear and asked, “You good?”
“Tremendous,” she replied, pressing into him. “Though,
hungry.”
Yeah, he was too.
“And Mag got home a while ago,” she went on. “We should
probably come up for air and go see if the Rockies won.”
This meant, go out and start laying the groundwork to find
out what kind of guy Mag was so she could set him up with the right woman.
Mo grinned at her.
Lottie knew he knew what was on her mind and she grinned
back.
He touched his mouth to that grin, pulled away and muttered,
“Gotta do one thing first.”
“Okay, baby,” she replied.
He kept her close and reached an arm beyond her to his
nightstand, tagging his phone.
He brought it back, engaging the screen, letting it see his
face then he rolled to his back, taking Lottie with him so she was draped down
his side.
She rested her cheek on his shoulder and commenced drawing
random patterns on his chest.
Mo suddenly wasn’t all that hungry.
He hit the phone button on his screen and made his call.
“Well, hello, Mo, so glad you called. This means I can talk
Trine down from sending out a search party.”
Mo smiled at the ceiling.
“Hey, Ma.”
He felt Lottie tip her head to look up at him.
He kept his eyes on his ceiling.
“How are things?” his mother asked.
“Things are great,” he replied.
“Great?”
Her tone was a mix of surprised, dubious and concerned.
To say his mother was not in the dark about some, if not
all, of his issues was an understatement.
“Yeah, Ma, just got off a job.”
“Hawk giving you some downtime?”
“Yeah. But back tomorrow,” he told her. “Though after check
in and debrief, hopin’ he’ll give me the weekend.” He
paused before he shared, “Listen, I met somebody.”
Lottie tensed in his hold.
Complete silence from his mother.
To say Tammy and the others weren’t beloved by the other
women in his life was another understatement.
“And I want you and the girls to meet her,” he finished.
“You…I…uh,” his mother stammered.
Mo pulled Lottie further up on his chest and tipped his eyes
down to her stunned face.
“You’re gonna love her, Ma.”
Lottie’s face lost the stunned as it got soft and she slid
her hand from his chest to the side of his neck.
“She’s terrific,” he continued.
At that, his girl’s face got even softer.
He’d give her the hazy-eyed look of eating her out and
making her come, and he’d love doing that as often as he could manage.
But that look right there he’d kill and die for.
“Well I’m not sure you’ve ever quite described one of your
women as terrific, Mo.”
Even his mother called him Mo, something he’d demanded
around the age of six.
She’d saddled him with the name of Kim, Seamus was of his
father, and even at six, he wanted nothing to do with that, so she’d relented
without a fight.
Even his credit cards said Mo Morrison on them. Only his
license shared that his mother had every faith upon his birth that he could
handle bullies and douchebags without coming out scarred.
“That’s because I’m seein’ that
they weren’t,” Mo replied.
“Well…my,” his mom whispered.
“Can’t do it this Sunday. Next Sunday?” he asked.
“I’d love to, but I think Marte’s schedule has her on shift
at the hospital.”
“Sunday after that,” Mo suggested.
“That’d work. I’ll have dinner here,” his mother answered.
“We can hit a restaurant.”
“I’m not going to meet a woman you describe as ‘terrific’ in
some stuffy place like a restaurant, Mo. I’ll make my crab cakes.”
He was not going to argue against his mother’s crab cakes.
“Perfect,” he muttered. Then louder, “Gotta go, Ma. Lottie’s
here and Mag’s home from the ballgame so we’re gonna
get some food and hang with Mag.”
Her voice went up in pitch when she asked, “She’s there?”
He gave Lottie a squeeze. “Right here.”
“Wow,” she whispered. Then she got louder. “Mag’s met her?”
“Yup.”
“What does he think?”
“I got the last good one left.”
Lottie pushed up and shoved her face in the other side of
his neck.
There was a beat of hesitation before, sounding like she was
smiling, his mom said, “Well then, Mo, I can’t wait to meet her. Tell her it
won’t be formal. Just a family dinner.”
His mother knew Mag would be a tough nut to crack.
And he was when it came to one of his buds.
Lottie had done it in about five minutes.
But Mo would not tell his girl anything like what his mother
told him to say.
She was probably already walking to the hutch to pull out
the china.
“I will,” he lied.
“Glad you called, honey.”
“Yeah, Ma. Love you and talk to you later.”
“Love you too, baby boy.”
He grinned, disconnected and tossed his phone to the
nightstand so he could wrap both arms around his girl.
“Well, you didn’t fuck around with that,” she said into his
neck.
“Nope.”
“How nervous should I be?”
“She’s gonna love you.”
“How nervous should I be, Mo?”
He gave her a squeeze which got him what he wanted. She
lifted her head and looked down at him.
“She’s gonna love you, baby,” he
said gently.
She studied his face. She did it hard.
When she saw what she needed, she dipped in and kissed him.
Mo rolled her and kissed her back.
They necked for a while.
When they were done, they got up, got dressed and left the
room they’d been in for five hours.
There was good soundproofing in his place. They’d heard Mag
come in, but that was it. What they didn’t hear was that Mag came back with
Boone.
So over Chinese delivery, Lottie got Boone’s version of Test
the New Woman.
Mo figured, with Boone, she passed after she successfully shotgunned a beer.
It wasn’t that Boone had lower standards than Mag when it
came to Mo.
It was that Lottie was Lottie.