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Should she mention it? Maybe she could get his opinion on the surprising invitation Whip blurted out this morning. “I’m meeting his mother tonight. He invited me to have dinner with them.”
Fallon almost got whiplash as Teddy spun the chair around, stopped it abruptly with his foot, almost flinging her from her seat. His eyes, the color of jade, were wide and a hand covered his gaping mouth. “He did? You are?”
Fallon winced at his squealed questions.
“My goodness, girlfriend! That’s a huge step already. Now I’m doing your makeup and nails, too. All on the house! You never get a second chance to make a first impression. You have to dazzle the potential momma-in-law.”
“I don’t need to impress her. It’s only dinner. She’s not going to be my—”
Teddy did a “shut it” motion with his fingers to stop her from speaking. “It’s never ‘only dinner’ when the momma gets to meet the lover. Don’t kid yourself. Take it from me. The first time I met my future in-laws, I was sweating so badly, you could wring me out like a soggy dish cloth.” He slapped the back of his hand against his forehead in an overly dramatic gesture. “Adam thought I was so sick that I needed to go to the ER.”
That couldn’t be why Whip invited her. Teddy was making a bigger deal out of tonight’s dinner than he should be. “I’m not staying in town, Teddy. Once Agnes is fixed—”
“Uh huh. Once one of those possessive gorillas sets his sights in your direction, you’re not going anywhere. Trust me. I’ve seen it with my own two eyeballs.”
“Not this time.”
“Sure, girlfriend, you keep telling yourself that. When we’re done here, I’ll set up your next appointment and we’ll see if I’m wrong.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Tyler, is this an April Fool’s joke? Please tell me it isn’t. Did you actually bring home a girl?” Fallon was hardly a “girl” and Whip’s mother was whispering much too loudly with her eyes lit up like someone just handed her a tax-free million dollar check.
He groaned under his breath. Maybe this wasn’t the greatest idea, but his mom would be upset if he missed their weekly dinner. He also didn’t want Fallon to spend dinner alone, even though she was used to it.
She was traveling the country by herself. She ate alone most nights and was fine with it.
He wasn’t.
Maybe his invitation was more for him than her.
Though, he did notice that her excitement to come to dinner with him had sort of waned when he picked her up at the motel.
Was it nerves?
He kept his voice down since Fallon was sitting in the living room just off the kitchen. “It’s not like that, Mom. And why would you think it’s an April Fool’s joke?”
His mother stared at him like he was an idiot.
Maybe he was.
He closed his eyes and whispered, “Christ.” Today was April first. “It’s not a joke, Mom. Fallon’s in town by herself and we’ve…”
His mother’s smile got as big as her eyes.
He ignored that and pushed on. “We’ve been eatin’ dinner together out…” every night, “a lot and figured she could use a good home-cooked meal. Told her you’re a great cook.”
His mother ran a hand over her hair and tugged at her shirt. “But you should have warned me. I don’t have on any makeup and…” She glanced down at the Justice Bail Bonds T-shirt she was sporting. “Look at me. I’m a complete mess! I spilled coffee on my T-shirt earlier! I should go fix myself up.”
“You don’t gotta do that. She don’t care.”
“I don’t have to do that and she won’t care,” she corrected him.
He groaned.
“You’re not going to find and keep a woman if you keep speaking so sloppily like that.”
“Mom…”
“Don’t you dare ‘Mom’ me. I’m your mother.”
He strained his eyes trying not to roll them. “No shit. It’s why I call you ‘Mom,’” he muttered under his breath. “And, news flash, she don’t give a fuck how I talk.”
“You don’t know that!” his mom hissed at him. “You should always put your best foot forward so you can find yourself a nice wife.”
For fuck’s sake, there she went. Same old, same old. “Don’t need a wife, Mom. I’m good.”
“All your friends are getting them.”
He sighed. Loudly. “They’re not my friends. They’re family. And the women are their ol’ ladies.”
She grabbed a pot holder from the counter and moved over to the oven. “I’m your family. And ol’ lady is such a horrible term. As is sweet butt, by the way.”
“Can you stop? This is my life and I like it the way it is.”
“It could be better.”
“It could be worse,” he countered.
She pulled the pan of bubbling homemade mac and cheese out of the oven. It had the perfectly browned bread crumb topping. Just how he liked it.
