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“You’re going to freeze out here.”
British glanced over her shoulder and rolled her eyes toward the water when she saw her mother coming with a dark plaid blanket. The temperature had been dropping all day. Steam rose from the hot tub at the end of the porch near the bricked-in grill. Orange glows of backyard bonfires shone in their nearest neighbors’ yard.
“Not only did I give you life, but I’m bringing you warmth, too, and you’re going to sit up here and roll your eyes at me?” Joan tossed the wool blanket over British’s shoulders and took a seat on a matching chair to face her.
“I didn’t roll my eyes,” British lied. She adjusted the blanket to fit her shoulders evenly and stretched her legs out in front of her.
Joan sat in the same position as her daughter. “You forget I raised you.”
“Tell that to some of my brothers and sisters in there.” British pointed her thumb at the sliding-glass door. They’d undermined her at every corner today, from cooking in the kitchen to dessert. They’d mocked her for using science to help cook and had had the nerve to bring up all her embarrassing childhood stories, including her time as a beauty queen.
“They love you.”
“You mean to make fun of me,” British huffed.
“You do understand this is the first time they’ve been able to experience this with you?”
“Experience what?” British asked, sitting up. “They never acted like that with Christian.”
Joan sat up, as well. She reached over and patted British’s leggings-clad leg. “Dear, you and Christian grew up together. He and his family ate at our Thanksgiving table all throughout high school. Finn, Cree, Irish and Scots always saw Christian as part of the family. Seeing you with another man...”
“I’m not with another man,” British lied again. Her spine tingled, reminding her just how much she had been with him last night. It was all she could do to keep from combusting each time she bumped an arm against his in the house—her soul caught on fire.
“Again,” Joan sighed, “why are you trying to lie to me? Or are you trying to convince yourself there’s nothing between you and Donovan Ravens?”
British shrugged her shoulders.
“Donovan is the first man you’ve brought home.”
“You invited him,” British reminded her.
Joan chuckled. “Girl, I am not going back and forth with you about this. It is evident there’s something going on between the two of you and I don’t want to have to tell you what my intuition is telling me.”
British turned to face her mother and contemplated testing out what she thought was going on. Did she want to tell her that for one moment in her life she wanted to have a quick fling with no attachments and that Donovan was the perfect person for the job?
“Mom.”
“You’re twenty-eight,” Joan went on. “Not dead.”
“You sound like Vonna.”
“Your mother-in-law is right. Hell, at seventy, your dad and I are still very—”
“All right, we’re done here.” British got to her feet. H
er hands flew up to cover her ears as she focused on the rippling water of the pool. Suddenly her eyes focused on a pair of bathing suits by the Jacuzzi. Since no one else lived here during the year, the garments could only belong to her parents. British frowned.
Joan stood behind British and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “Sweetie, no matter what’s going on in here—” she tapped British’s temple “—or here—” and tapped her heart “—I love you.”
“Thanks, Mom.” British stared off into the horizon.
“And, dear...” she whispered. “Dessert’s here.”
Raising her brows, British shook her head. “We had dessert.”
Gently, Joan spun British around by the shoulders. British looked beyond her mother’s height to find Donovan standing outside by the chair she’d just vacated. He wore his khaki chinos and someone else’s black hoodie, zipped to his neck. In his hand he balanced a round tray with two...cupcakes.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Joan whispered.
