Gemma fidgeted with her dress, tugging the black miniskirt over her opaque black stockings nervously. "Is this whole thing really necessary?"
I glanced at the way the skirt hugged her ass, showing off her generous assets even with a bulky cream sweater swathing the top of her frame. She looked entirely too fuckable to be in public. "No, the skirt is definitely not necessary. You should take it off."
We had just entered the restaurant and given our coats to the maître d', and Gemma rolled her eyes up to me with a humor-laced glare. "That is not what I meant."
I hooked my arm around her waist and squeezed her to my side. "It'll be just fine. My mother is a snake, but she won't bite you… in public."
"Reassuring," she muttered. Gemma had curled her hair into soft waves that fell down her back, and she looked strangely innocent. I knew better, but at that moment, as she walked at my side, small and somewhat nervous, I couldn't help but think I was leading her to the den of vipers. It was to protect her… wasn't it? I didn't have time to contemplate further because then we were at my mother's table, and she stood to greet us.
Mother wore a wool tweed skirt suit in the only acceptable color for her dour personality—black. She'd accented it with diamonds and fake eyelashes, and I felt myself ratcheting up tight on the defensive immediately. After med school, I hadn't had to deal with my mother very often. Her sudden re-emergence in my life was not at all welcome. She smiled mirthlessly, and it barely crinkled her aging eyes. "Knox. Gemma. I can't tell you how happy I am to have you both here."
She couldn't tell us because she didn't feel it. Funny. Gemma held out her hand with a plucky smile that honestly made me want to fall to my knees in worship. She wasso goddamngorgeous. I felt like an idiot for not giving in to my attraction to her earlier. "Hello, Mrs. Rook. It's a pleasure to see you again."
Sylvia shook Gemma's hand like she was shaking hands with a faceless tentacle. "Gemma. Goodness. Imagine my surprise."
"Surprise?" Gemma laughed. "You made me sign my own marriage certificate. How is this a surprise?"
Fuck. Right for the jugular. "Down, girl," I muttered in her ear as my mother's smile froze into stone and she slid into her seat at our table. I’d never get a confession out of Sylvia if Gemma forced her on the defensive right away. I had the recording app open on my phone, but it would only be helpful if we got the right phrase out of Sylvia.
"How very imaginative," Sylvia bit out.
Harry and Harriet's was an upscale, rustic establishment with windows that faced the Oregon Coast Range and the misty pineforest that crept up the side of the low mountain range. The beige color scheme and soft lighting probably appealed to my mother's bland sensibilities as much as the high price range. I pulled out a chair at our four-person table in the middle of the restaurant that teemed with muted conversation and clinking silverware. I smelled some kind of fried onion-something, and my stomach growled. I should have had us eat before we came. I had a feeling my mother was likely to ruin my appetite.
Gemma gave me a scythe-sharp glare as she took her seat and pulled up to the elegant dining set. She opened her napkin with a snap and put it on her lap before giving my mother a fake, simpering smile. "I wanted to thank you for bringing us together." I took a sip of water, hoping to wet my suddenly parched throat. Gemma went on, her voice dipping into a suggestive tone. "I've never looked forward to being tied up by someone more in my life."
I choked on the water. My throat worked convulsively to keep it from spraying my mother's face, which had taken on a stricken expression. She leaned forward a fraction. "Did you mean tie the knot?"
"What did I say?" Gemma asked like an airhead.
I cleared my throat. "What is it you wanted to discuss with us?"
Sylvia turned her attention back to me, her heavily lined eyes falling with irritation. "Darling, I'm simply overjoyed to hear the good news. Have you set a date yet?"
Gemma twirled the ring around her finger and gave me a questioning glance so full of sass, I almost reached over and pinched her. Without missing a beat, I replied, "Two years, November."
Sylvia glowered. "Two years?" It was at that moment our waiter showed up to fill our water glasses and take our drink orders, and I had to stop myself from doing a full-on facepalmwhen Gemma ordered two mojitos and requested they "make it a double." The last thing I needed was a tipsy Gemma at the fake engagement discussion. Then again, I wasn't sure what inebriated Gemma looked like; I had a feeling it could be fun if I played my cards right. Assuming she didn't blow this whole operation first.
After the waiter left, Gemma picked up the elegant, embossed cardstock menu and perused it with pursed lips. She pointed to something on the entree menu. "What the hell is ‘langoustine?’"
Sylvia shot Gemma a disparaging glance, and I had to tamp down a laugh. Gemma was doing this on purpose, God bless her. She was the perfect torment for my mother, and at the moment, she was all mine. I leaned over to whisper, "Try the Wagyu beef. It's the most expensive thing here. And tone it down, spicy."
She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "You're no fun."
Sylvia tapped her long, manicured nails on her menu. "Two years is a very long time. How does six months sound? A spring wedding?"
Gemma gasped, lowering her menu. "Oh no, I couldn't. What if I'm pregnant then?"
For the second time, I choked, this time on air. "Gem," I strangled out.
Sylvia got a hawkish glint in her light eyes. "Are you?"
"Well, no," Gemma said, like she was talking about something as insignificant as langoustine. "But I could be." With a conspiratorial whisper, she added, "We have a lot of sex."
I coughed out a laugh, smoothing my hand over my mouth to poorly hide it. Sylvia put a hand to her diamond necklace. "Well."
"I think I'll have the foie gras. I love a side of animal torture with my arranged marriage meeting. It's fitting, you know?"
I couldn't decide if bringing Gemma here had been a colossal mistake or the best thing I'd ever done. I nodded. "I love yourlogic, darling." She shot me a sideways "ew" face at the use of my endearment, and I snorted out another laugh. God, this woman was everything.
