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“Actually, she told me that she liked you, which is really good. I would’ve kicked her out if she said she didn’t.”
Deanna laughs. “No, you wouldn’t have. You’re not the type of man to choose a woman over your momma, not when she raised you on her own and was a good momma.”
“You’re right. But I would’ve been really disappointed in her if she didn’t like you. I don’t see how that’s possible anyway.”
She doesn’t say anything. In fact, she’s gotten quite still next to me. “Can I get something off my chest for a second?”
“Go ahead.” I don’t hesitate at all. Partly because I don’t want to and partly because I don’t want Deanna to second-guess herself.
“This thing between us? It scares the hell out of me. I feel so much. Even in the beginning when it was only sex, it seemed like there was just more. I don’t know what to do with all of this mess. Half the time I don’t know what we’re doing, if it’s more of the same, or if we’ve morphed into dating, or what. But it’s unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced. And all I can think about is how I can do nothing but make bad decisions and you don’t know if you could even commit to a relationship. What in the hell are we doing here, Brayden?”
***
His hand moves up to my neck, his thumb resting where he can surely feel my out-of-control pulse. He kisses my forehead. That surprises me because it’s so sweet of a gesture. Is he going to say something or hold me in suspense for the rest of my life?
“We’re making this work, that’s what we’re doing here. You haven’t made any bad decisions and I’ve been able to commit to you so far. We’re doing all the right things.” I think he’s done, but then he says, “And we’re dating, to be clear.” He frowns. “Do you feel like you’re settling, Deanna? Are you not happy being with just me?”
“What? No!” Where would he get that from? “I’m only trying to figure out what we’re doing. I’m meeting your mom, Brayden. That’s huge.”
“So, why are you needing me to explain this in words when clearly my actions speak for me?” He looks utterly confused at this.
“Because I’m a woman and I need to hear things, too.”
He laughs. “Okay. Have you heard enough or do I need to keep talking?”
“I think I’ve heard enough.” I’m tired of talking about it at least.
“Good.” He kisses me so slowly and thoroughly, my head goes dizzy. It’s like I’m drunk in the best of ways when he kisses me. Or maybe I’m high. I’m certainly addicted and I never want to be sober. Brayden distracts me so much with his kiss, makes me feel so good with the soft bite of his teeth, that it takes me until his hand has grasped my breast to even realize his hand moved underneath my shirt.
“What are you doing?” I breathe.
“Reacquainting myself with you.”
I grab his wrist through my shirt. “Are you even allowed?” He only chuckles and moves that talented mouth to my neck. “Your mom is across the hall.”
His sigh is heavy. “Thanks for the reminder.”
“Maryann, Maryann, Maryann, Maryann,” I repeat, causing him to laugh.
“You’re mean. Fine, not tonight.”
Not at all while she’s here. This room isn’t soundproof. Even if it was, it’s a mood killer to know she’s right there! No hanky panky this go-round. Brayden puts his hand in its normal place on my ass, sighs contentedly, and a minute later, he’s sound asleep. I snuggle closer, praying I don’t screw something up while his mom is here.
In the morning, I wake up with my head on Brayden’s chest and a leg thrown over him. When I lift my head, I see that he’s already awake with a slight smile on his face. That has to be a good sign. “How—” His hand suddenly covers my mouth.
“Do not finish that sentence, darlin’. Every morning you ask me that and I haven’t gotten any better. The days were less than stellar. Don’t jinx me today when, you know.” His smile widens, which I’m taking to mean he feels pretty good.
“You’re superstitious?”
“All hockey players are. I’m starting to get superstitious about the question that cannot be asked.”
I giggle.
“Hey, what is your dad doing for Thanksgiving?”
“I asked him yesterday and he said he was going to his brother’s house.” I shrug. He didn’t ask what I was doing for Thanksgiving or if I wanted to come with him. He’s been in his own little world since Mom died. I feel bad for feeling a bit grateful, especially considering how I felt after Mom died.
“Okay, good. If he didn’t have plans, then I was going to say he could come here. Are you working today?”
