AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I'm not going,” I blurt out.
Her face instantly changes, and I busy myself cleaning the small kitchen. “Well, why the hell not?” When I don’t answer she presses, “Mom?”
“Look, I’m happy with my life. I’ve built a little business that keeps a roof over my head and Bisquick in my cupboards. I have three beautiful daughters I got to raise. And a granddaughter who is by far the most superior being I’ve ever known. I don’t need anything else.”
“What are you saying?” she asks quietly.
“I’m saying I haven’t ever dated,” I say, letting the words fall from my mouth like liquid diarrhea.
“What?”
“The last man I dated was your father and we all know how that turned out.”
“That man is no father to me—”
“Genetic material donor.”
“Thank you,” she says. She never did want anything to do with him and I’m more than thankful for that small blessing. Jeremiah Weeks was nothing but trouble and heartache. “But surely you’ve dated in the last twenty years…? No?”
“I tried,” I start. “I really did. But I just… couldn’t.”
“Well now is the time to try,” she says with enough meaning in her voice I know she won’t back down.
“Hardly. I’m too old.”
“Mom, you were a baby yourself when you had Audrey.”
“So?”
“You’re not even forty.”
“It’s not the years, it’s the miles, daughter.”
“Well maybe the hot Brit can put some miles on your mattress.”
“Merritt Hope!”
“An orgasm would do wonders for your disposition, Mom,” she says. “Besides. I’ll get Pops and Wyatt to help me feed him to Bradley if he’s not the consummate gentleman. And not even Mason would dare to stop us.”
“That is probably true…”
“Good. It’s all settled then,” she says as she hops off her stool and rinses her plate, sticking it in the dishwasher. “I’ll come over tomorrow and help you get dressed.”
“What?”
“Thanks for the pancakes, Mamacita,” she says, kissing me on my cheek before heading for the front door. “Gotta go.”
I follow behind her trying to come up with the right words to prove her wrong. To show her that dating is clearly a terrible idea. But before I can think of anything that might change her mind, she hops in her jeep and races down the drive, leaving me standing on the porch watching her go.
When I turn to leave, something catches my eye. My basket with my lavender cuttings and my shears is placed gently on one of the chairs as if it’s waiting for me. The man, Court, must have picked it up and brought it back when I ran this afternoon.
I pick it up and take it inside. I wonder if a man who carefully carries a basket of flowers up a hill and makes sure they’re somewhere safe, somewhere they’ll be found, can be trusted with something more precious. Can he be trusted with… me?
Chapter 5
Court
SWEETNESS
