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A knock sounded at my door when I was pouring my third glass of Coke. I hadn’t had this much soda since college. Maybe high school. At least it wasn’t bourbon.
I debated not answering. I knew it was cowardly. At this point, I didn’t care.
My only hope for this week was to get through it intact.
Harm none.
I frowned and rubbed my blurry eyes. Now I was thinking in Wiccan tenets, which was my own fault for doing some research past midnight when I couldn’t sleep. I’d started with tarot cards and stumbled into witchy stuff, an interesting coincidence considering what Ryan had told my father this morning.
Whether or not she was truly a witch, Ryan’s world was surprisingly fascinating. I had a feeling I’d only scratched the surface.
Of her too.
Another knock sounded and I pushed to my feet. I’d face her standing and send her back where she’d come from the same way. “Yes?”
That should’ve been my clue it wasn’t Ryan. She didn’t wait to be invited in. She just blazed through my world like a tornado.
“Sweetheart.” My mom strolled in. “Are you busy? Of course you are, you never stop.”
I’d heard the phrase my heart sunk before, but I had never lived it. Shit, this was the last thing I needed today.
Then again, when was the right time to tell the mother you adored that her husband was cheating on her?
That the man in question was my father didn’t lessen my anger.
I shook my head. “I always have time for you. Shut the door. Please,” I tacked on when she shot me a look.
She did as I asked, but as she turned, I caught a glimpse of Ryan at her desk. Sitting ramrod straight, her hair long and loose. Typing away like the assistant of my fucking dreams.
The last part was true too. I was definitely having fucking dreams about her. And today’s tongue swordplay would not help on that score.
I pressed a finger to my temple and sank into my chair.
My mother came around the desk and leaned down to hug me as she always did, smelling of Chanel and freshly overturned dirt. An odd combination, but that was my mother in a nutshell. She wore a pristine pink pants suit with a plaid shirt more fitting for a gardener. She’d styled her hair in a flawless brown wave with tucked under ends, and pearls shone at her ears. Her perfect makeup was marred only by a muddy streak she’d overlooked on her cheek.
I swiped it away for her and eased back. “Been pruning again?”
“Oh, did I miss a spot?” She held her hand against her face and laughed. “I didn’t pay much mind to my makeup after I finished getting the garden ready for fall planting. Fifi was running around in circles. She tried to get a squirrel today. Can you imagine? Blasted thing was almost as big as she is.”
Fifi was her purse-sized chihuahua who thought she was the size of a wolf and possessed the same huntin
g prowess. She was wrong.
“She figures she can do anything, and you’ll be happy about it.”
“She’s not entirely wrong, minus squirrel killing. What’s wrong with you?”
“What? Nothing. Why?”
“A mother knows.”
I gulped my drink. I used to handle things directly. No beating around the bush. No hiding. If something was unpleasant, I dealt with it with a modicum of fuss and got the job done.
Now avoiding women I didn’t want to have difficult conversations with seemed to be my MO.
Not only women. I didn’t want to talk to my father either. Or my brother for that matter, who was probably just waiting for me to give him a sign to descend on Ryan. He wasn’t good enough for her.
For that matter, neither was I. She deserved someone who was all in. Totally committed to riding that magic carpet wherever it would go.
