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“Actually, she’s sticking around to say hi before she heads to the hospital.”
“Yay. How nice.” I picked up my purse and climbed out of the truck before I said something I’d regret later.
Hopefully, I’d regret it later. I truly didn’t know what my problem was. Okay, I knew. I was ridiculously jealous of Sage’s past with Murphy. I wanted to know details I had no business knowing. Especially if I was acting this irrational without knowing much, imagine if I had a little information to torment myself with?
And it didn’t make sense. Before all this, I’d really liked Sage. I still did. She was happily married to someone else, and Murphy and I were doing just fine as…well, whatever we were.
I wasn’t normally the sort of chick to worry about other women. I believed in female empowerment and one for all.
Except when it came to Murphy Masterson apparently, who caused me to act more bloodthirsty than Jaws.
As I stepped out of the car, Murphy frowned and stopped beside my door. “I was coming around to open it for you.”
Who was this man? Although I’d gotten to know him much better, I still couldn’t believe his manners. “Was your mother June Cleaver?”
“No, JoAnn Cleaver.” He held out his arm for me and I couldn’t help laughing as I accepted it.
“Have you ever eaten here before?” I asked as we ascended the wide steps to the bed and breakfast’s separate side entrance for the restaurant.
“No, never. I cook for myself a lot.”
“Me too. I work my budget like a street corner.”
He laughed and opened the front door for me. “Well, no
budget tonight.”
The foyer was crowded and there was already a line moving toward the stand for the maître’d. We joined the back of the line and made small talk as it inched forward.
Until loud feminine laughter made my ears prickle.
No.
Couldn’t be.
There was no way she could be in town. Not without letting me know.
Just the same, I gripped Murphy’s arm as I craned my neck to try to see around the people milling about in the entrance area. Then I caught a glimpse of familiar jet-black hair, wound up in her usual mile-high bun with colorful sticks, and my empty stomach fisted.
“So, how do you feel about meeting my mother tonight?”
Murphy frowned. “Here?”
“Apparently.” I narrowed my eyes at the suited man she was cozied up to, tucked into his side as if he was a lifelong friend.
Make that a lover.
She leaned up to kiss him and he palmed her ass with his left hand. Where he wore a wedding ring.
My mother was a lot of things, but messing with a married guy? Really?
Of course if you came to town for the first time in forever and didn’t bother to let your only child know first, probably anything went.
Murphy reached down to rub my hand where it clenched his arm. I was probably cutting off his circulation. “Point her out to me.”
But that turned out to be unnecessary, since she turned her head and let out a gasp. “VeeBee! Oh my God. You’re here!” She rushed toward us, her face wreathed with a huge smile. The colorful silk scarves wrapped around her waist like a belt fluttered through the air as she reached for me, pulling me into a hard hug. “You look amazing. A little skinny,” she pinched my hip, “but amazing.” She made a show of lifting her own boobs and grinning before shifting her attention to a dazed Murphy.
Or maybe I was the dazed one. My mother was a whirlwind.
