“Fi?”
Her gaze flicked up to his. “Yes?”
“Just take the compliment.”
The smile and shaky laugh she gave made it obvious that he wasn’t the only one battling nerves. “Thank you. You don’t look too shabby either.”
Pinto glanced down at his charcoal slacks and white polo shirt. Both were new, because he had nothing but jeans, cargo pants, T-shirts, and his old Navy uniforms in the closet. He could have gotten away with something more casual—this was Florida, after all; he once saw a guy wear overalls and flip-flops to a funeral—but his mother would expect better.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” She stepped out of the apartment, locked the door behind her, and dropped the keys into her purse.
Pinto held out his hand, and when she took it, he felt a buzz in his blood that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Traffic sucked. No surprise there—it was the default setting in Orlando. Multiple massive construction projects were supposed to ease congestion, but they only seemed to shift bad traffic from one place to another. To make matters worse, there were thousands of tourists on the roads at any given time, none of whom had any idea where they were going and drove ten miles below the speed limit in the passing lane while staring at the GPS on their phones.
At least there weren’t any wrecks to turn I-4 into a giant parking lot. Still, traffic got heavier with each mile closer to the attractions. As they crept along, they used the time to go over their cover story again, making sure no details were overlooked and they were on the same page.
At last, the hotel came into view, and Pinto felt a weird mix of happiness and trepidation. He loved his family, he really did, but he had reasons for living a thousand miles away from them.
His pulse ratcheted up a notch as he pulled into the hotel lot and parked in the visitor section. His family had chosen one of the myriad hotels located just off Disney property that offered a daily shuttle to the parks. At first sight, it was nothing special to look at, but it was well-maintained, brightly lit, and with plenty of amenities for his family to use when they weren’t doing the tourist thing. If they were lucky, the warm weather would continue to hold and they could even make use of the outdoor pool.
As if sensing his unease, Fiona reached across the center console and gave his hand a squeeze. She offered an encouraging smile. “You’ve got this, Joe.”
“Thanks. I appreciate you doing this for me.” He got out, rounded the front of the Mustang, and opened the door for Fiona. She took the hand he offered, and once again he tried to ignore how the simple contact made his body rev.
She tilted her head toward the hotel, though her gaze stayed fixed on his. “Do you think they’re watching?”
“I’d put the odds around 60-40.”
“Then I suppose we better act the part.” Before he could ask what she meant by that, Fiona rose onto her tiptoes and brushed her lips over his.
Fucking hell, it felt as though he’d been hit with a thousand volts. Warmth filled his chest, erasing the tension, while his hands instinctively moved up to grip her waist. His inner caveman wanted to take over and maul her like a frigging animal, but he somehow summoned enough restraint to keep himself in check.
To his disappointment, the kiss ended all too soon, though it was probably for the best. The last thing they needed was to get busted by hotel security for making out in the parking lot. Pinto took her hand, laced his fingers with hers, and headed toward the building.
The hotel’s glass double doors slid open and a blast of arctic air welcomed them into the lobby. The first thing Pinto saw was his mother perusing a rack of brochures wearing a T-shirt with Mickey Mouse ears on the front, knee-length pants, and white sneakers, the Orlando equivalent of a flashing neon sign that announced: I’M A TOURIST. She was average height, a little heavier than he remembered, with short, jet-black hair that she swore was natural but wasn’t. Almost two years had passed since he’d last seen her, but she didn’t look as though she’d aged a day. Not having teenagers—and an asshole husband—in the house probably worked wonders for her stress levels and added a decade or two to her life.
The sight of her triggered an avalanche of memories: some good, some not-so-good. He didn’t believe there was any such thing as a perfect childhood. Regardless of whether they admitted it or not, everybody carried some sort of baggage with them into adulthood. His could have been a whole lot worse, so he usually tried not to dwell on the past and focused on the future.
As if sensing his gaze, his mother turned toward him, and a smile lit her face, making the fine lines along her eyes and mouth fan out. In the blink of an eye, she crossed the room and caught him in a bone-crushing hug.
“It’s good to see you too, Ma,” he managed to say before he ran out of air.
“Oh, my God, it’s been so long.” Her voice was muffled against his chest. Just when he thought he might pass out from oxygen deprivation, she pulled back to give him a once-over. She frowned. “You’re too skinny. I felt ribs.”
“I’m fine, Ma.” In his mother’s mind, anyone without a solid roll around their midsection was one step away from starvation. As a kid, she’d constantly shoved food in his face, determined to load him with so many calories he couldn’t possibly burn them all off. It never worked, but she’d never stopped trying.
Her gaze slid to Fiona. “Is this your girlfriend?”
“She most certainly is.” He smiled as he placed one hand at the small of Fiona’s back. “Ma, I’d like you to meet Fiona Perkins. Fiona, my mother.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Pinto,” Fiona said in a measured tone she likely used for parent-teacher conferences. She exuded warmth and confidence, which was good, because his mother could smell fear from a mile away.
For a long, uncomfortable moment, his mother looked Fiona over like a drill sergeant inspecting a new recruit. “Are you sleeping with my son?”
“No, ma’am,” Fiona replied before Pinto could object to the question.
