No one can claim my mother isn’t the queen of shopping. She grabs plates, cloth napkins, a caddy for everything, a blanket, a basket, and glasses.
“Put that plastic thing away,” she mutters, swatting my hand when I reach for two plastic wineglasses. “I know you weren’t raised in a barn…” she adds with a giggle. “Oh, dear, you really were raised in a barn!”
The giggles quickly turn into full-on belly laughs, and I’m just stuck here staring at my mother, waiting for her to get it under control so I can get what I need for my lunch.
Once the giggles pass, my mother and Mrs. Wilson grab what they determine I need for a proper romantic picnic, and I make my way to the register to pay for everything.
“Come for dinner. I’d love to meet this girl,” my mother says.
“Not today. I have a whole day planned for Mikayla,” I tell her.
“Mikayla,” my mom murmurs. “Lovely name,” she adds with a simple nod as Mrs. Wilson bags my items.
“She’s perfect.”
I smile as we make our way out of the store. My smile grows even larger as an image of Mikayla lying naked and warm in my bed comes to my mind. I have to remind myself that my mother is beside me as we stroll to my truck.
“Perfect, huh? Now I really need to meet this girl.”
“Give it time. She’s just settling in. I’m trying to convince her to stay,” I explain, hoping my mother doesn’t barge into my house and overwhelm Mikayla.
“What does that mean, settling in? Settling in where?” my mother asks, giving me thatlook that mothers give, that eye of suspicion.
“What do you mean, what do I mean?” I reply, half because I don’t want to answer the question and half because I don’t really understand what she’s asking.
I can venture a guess but why give away something if she isn’t asking.
My mother crosses her arms over her chest and regards me with a frown. “I mean, what do you mean by settling in?” she presses.
Yep. That’s what I thought she meant. “Well, you see, Mikayla is… well, she’s…”
“Caine, stop blubbering and get it out,” she says with obvious annoyance.
I flatten my lips as I think about how I’m supposed to answer that question without making Mikayla look bad.
“She’s staying with me, and I’m trying to convince her not to leave.” Who am I kidding? My mother is going to get it out of me, regardless. Might as well rip off the bandage.
“This woman is living with you?” she asks in exasperation. She scowls at me. “This is Janine all over again!”
“Mikayla is nothing like Janine. I hope you don’t say that or treat her as though she is. Mikayla is smart and driven. Her car broke down, so I brought her over. She’d have stayed at a hotel had I given her the choice,” I say defensively. “If you want to meet her, you’d best treat her nicely, or I’ll not bring her ‘round,” I add for good measure.
“Remember who you’re speaking to, Franklin Caine Montgomery,” my mother warns, narrowing her eyes at me.
She shakes her slender finger at me reproachfully.
“She isn’t after my money. She doesn’t even know I have any,” I explain.
“And how could you know that?”
“Because she ain’t from here. She’s from Seattle. She’s a nurse,” I explain.
“You know, Kyle needs a nurse,” my mother says, tapping her lips.
“No, he doesn’t,” I reply.
A crease forms between my brows. He’s never mentioned it to me.
“He does. His practice is bigger than he can manage. He needs a nurse,” she tells me.
