LINCOLN
I was going to throw up. Not literally, as shifters didn’t unless we’d had too much to drink.
Nope, my belly was churning because I was sitting in my car outside Bronson’s mom’s house. Veronica, or Ronnie as she was called, had let her son know that she didn’t approve of our relationship. She’d lined up a conga line of blind dates for her son, and he’d rejected every one. And then all of a sudden, he and I were together.
She’d seen me once, but we’d never officially met. That first night she threw her temper tantrum and walked out. And since then, my mate had been putting off getting us in the same room until she settled down. Try as he did, he couldn’t hide the tension when she texted or phoned.
And so, I’d taken it upon myself to meet her, not having told Bronson. I hadn't contacted Veronica ahead of time, because she would have let Bronson know. This could be an epic mistake, bigger than my fib about being a nature photographer.
My beast didn’t understand the bond between an adult child and their folks. He’d never had one which was a little sad, and we were more like siblings, though often I took on a parental role.
Why can’t we shift and hunt? I don’t want to be here,he whined.
We have to make this right with our mate’s mom. If we don’t, it might affect me and Bronson.
I thought back to the day I met Bronson. Revealing the me inside and telling him he was my fated mate was the most difficult task, I’d assumed. How wrong I was. His mom’s disapproval loomed over us like a dark cloud, and as my mate was frozen in a state of indecision, I had to make it right. But if I messed up, I'd make it ten times as wrong as it was now.
My palms were sweating rivers as I got out of the car holding the bunch of pink roses that Bronson said were her favorite. As I strode up the path to the front door, a curtain twitched. My mate had sent her pics of the two of us, so she was aware who was about to appear on her doorstep.
I raised my free hand over the wooden door, but it opened before I knocked.
“Lincoln.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Veronica.” Was that too informal? Damn, should I have called her something more formal? Or perhaps I could have referred to her as a generic ma’am? Yeah, that was better. “These are for you, ma’am.”
She took the flowers but didn’t sniff them or thank me. Instead she asked what I wanted. I was still standing at the entrance, as there’d been no invitation to enter her home. Though I didn’texpect a warm welcome, I hadn’t anticipated being stuck at the door.
“Bronson doesn’t know I’m here, but as he is very dear to both of us, I was hoping we could resolve your doubts about me.” There was no reaction from her other than a blink. “You don’t have to like me. I’m not asking for that, but I care about your son and want him to be happy.”
She didn’t respond. Other than saying my name, she hadn’t spoken, and I thought I’d blown it and would have to shuffle off and admit I’d failed. But she opened the door wider and ushered me in.
I stood in the living room and was reminded of the first time Bronson came to my house.
“I’ll put these in water.” Veronica disappeared toward the back of the house while I studied the photos of my mate on the sideboard, piano, and wall. Him as a baby, toddler, student, and adult wearing sports uniforms and Halloween costumes.
Bronson’s mom appeared holding a vase with the roses, so she hadn’t stomped on them and yanked out the petals one by one.
“Would you like coffee?”
I thanked her and said yes, and when she returned, she placed a tray of coffee and brownies on the coffee table. The brownies indicated I must have gone up a tad in her estimation.
“So, you wanted to talk.” There was a strength in her voice that my mate had inherited. “And you’re doing it behind my son’s back.”
Oh yikes, now she was saying I wasn’t to be trusted.
“That’s true, because he’s conflicted. He adores you and wants your approval of our relationship.”
“What makes you think I don’t approve?”
Yikes, she was making me spell it out. “The way you ignored me at the restaurant and keep trying to set him up on more dates? The way you’re looking at me as if you’re waiting for me to do something that will prove your suspicions correct.”
She picked up her fine china cup and tipped the coffee. I’d made an accusation, and no matter if I was right or wrong, she might be pissed.
I gulped as she put down the delicate cup in the saucer. “And what would those suspicions be?”
“That I’m hiding something and I’m not who I say I am and that I’m going to hurt your son.” She was right about the first two but not the last. I would never deliberately hurt my beloved mate.
She stared at me as if she could see inside me, and I told my beast to lie low. While Veronica’s suspicions centered on me being a possible jerk, I couldn’t give her a reason to think I was otherworldly.
