“I did, didn’t I? Hang tight, I’m going to grab my laundry real quick, and then I’ll take you home. May as well get a jump on those errands while I’m out.” I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but it seems as if the energy in the room has shifted, turning awkward.
Eloise nods. “Thanks.”
I dash down the hall to grab the laundry bag, then with a hand to the small of her back, I guide her out the front door and to the truck.
The ride to her place is filled with small talk, and before long we’re pulling up to her building. Eloise leans over and drops a quick kiss on my cheek. Not giving me time to come around and open her door, she hops out.
“Thanks for the ride. I’ll chat with you later – we can make arrangements for tomorrow.” And with that she’s gone.
Watching the sway of her hips as she walks toward the front door of her building, I wonder what just happened. My phone ringing has me shifting my attention, and I see Dutch’s name on the display.
“Hey dude, where the hell have you been?” I greet him as I check the road before easing back into the traffic.
17
ELOISE
Closing my apartment door behind me, I thump my head back against the wooden panel.What the fuck were you thinking?Well, I guess the short answer is, I wasn’t.
If I take Bear home, it’s going to necessitate some fancy footwork to convince my parents that we’re nothing more than friends. And Bear? What kind of mixed signals am I giving him by inviting him to meet my folks? Then again, he didn’t seem to need any convincing or enticing to go with me.
Thumping my head again for good measure, I continue to berate myself. The ringing of my phone startles me out of calling myself every name I can think of and, as I haul it out of my purse, I curse more seeing Mama’s name on the screen.
I brace for the Spanish Inquisition as I hit the green phone. “Hey Mama.”
“Hi sweetheart. Just a quick one. Your father’s about to head to the store, and I just wanted to check if there’s anything specific I need to get for your friend. Or anything they can’t have?”
My mother’s words give me pause. Mainly because I can’t answer her with any kind of certainty. Bear doesn’t seem to have been picky when we’ve been together at mealtimes, but I don’t know if he’s allergic to anything, or if there’s something he particularly hates. Well, shit.
“Um, I’ll have to check and get back to you on that, Mama. Give me a couple and I’ll phone you back.”
“All right. I’ll chat with you in a few then.”
Dropping my head against the door I’m still standing against, I contemplate the goat rodeo that I’ve unthinkingly created.
Well, I’m in it now. So, short of calling the whole thing off – which will have repercussions of its own – I guess I best pull on those big girl pants and give the man a call. With a sigh I can’t hold back, I dial Bear’s number and listen to the phone ring. It rings so long I think it’s going to go to voicemail, but just as I’m thanking my lucky stars for dodging a bullet, he answers.
“Everything okay?”
“Er, yeah. Yeah, it is. Why wouldn’t it be?” I stutter, caught off-guard by the concern in his voice.
“I’ve just barely left you and you’re calling, so I thought something might be wrong.”
“Oh. Okay. Fair enough.” Smooth, Mason. Real smooth. “Actually, the reason I’m calling is because Mama wants to know if you’re allergic to anything or if you have any favorites you’d like her to include.”
Bear doesn’t answer for a minute, and I feel like somehow I’ve said something wrong. “No,” he finally answers, sounding like he’s choking on the word.
“No? I’m going to need a little more than that, dude.” The snark is an unintentional byproduct of my discomfort at this conversation, and his too.
“Sorry, er, not allergic to anything and no, there isn’t any favorite I’d like.” More silence. And it’s really starting to tick me off. “I’m happy to eat whatever she makes.” And then he goes and puts a lump the size of a boulder in my throat with his next words. “It’s been a lot of years since I’ve had anyone who cared about my favorite meal.” To be fair, it sounds like he has an equal-sized lump in his.
Not ready to deal with the emotional fallout of this conversation, I hurry to end the call. “Okay then. I need to call my mother back to let her know. I’ll chat with you later.” Not giving him a chance to reply, I hang up.Thump. At this rate, I’ll be killing what few braincells I apparently have left off.
I call Mama back, as promised, keeping the call short and to the point to avoid any awkward questions I don’t want to be answering. I can’t avoid them forever, because that woman is like a sniffer dog when it comes to ferreting out information. But I can do my damnedest to delay the inevitable and give myself time to figure out the answers.
Pushing away from the door, I head for the bathroom to run myself a bubble bath for a much-needed soak in the tub. My errands can wait.
* * *
