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He grinned. “Oh, I did. Let’s go visit your parents.”
Nineteen
The valuable lesson I’d learned? Teagan Daly was susceptible to the ol’ bait and switch trick.
I’d had something in my pocket, all right, but not the one she’d plundered. I’d taken a chance on her inherent nosiness and it had paid off.
Big time.
Once we arrived back at the car, I hid the treasure I’d noticed on the owner’s shelf behind the cash register—an item he was not selling, as it was a priceless family heirloom. Until I’d explained my situation with Teagan, who had been spiritually communicating with the piano I’d surreptitiously bought her at that exact moment.
I walked out of there a good bit poorer, but with Teagan none the wiser.
My buoyant mood lasted until I pulled into her parents’ driveway in Jersey and looked over to see her running her fingers up and down the seatbelt as she worried her lower lip between her teeth.
“Would you parents get mad if we had sex on the porch before going in?”
“Say what?”
“Look at those cushy wicker chairs. I love it when you ride me.”
Her eyes widened. “But here? With my parents inside? I’m all for being an exhibitionist, but I don’t want to traumatize them.”
I grinned and cupped her cheek. “It seemed as good a way as any to get you to stop worrying.”
“That obvious, huh?”
“To the guy who knows you better than anyone? Yeah, just a little.”
Her smile radiated warmth through me. “That’s true. You do. Those wicker cushions are pretty padded. What do you say we—”
I unclicked my belt and got out of the car to the sound of her laughter.
Teagan rang the bell and her mom opened the door, a giant smile wreathing her face. “Baby, come here and let me look at you. Oh, thank you. My favorite.” She pulled Teagan into a hug as Teagan pushed the perfume bag into her hand.
Mrs. Daly was an older version of her daughter. She was also slight, with auburn hair touched with gray in a tidy ponytail. She wore jeans and a T-shirt that said my daughter is in a famous rock band, which made me laugh.
“Cooper, sweetheart.” Her mom stepped out on the porch and drew me into the group hug. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” Minus the flop sweat and pre-proposal question jitters. “How are you?”
“Couldn’t be better. It’s about time you come visit your parents. I was starting to think you’d adopted a new set.”
Teagan grinned. “Never. Besides, no one else makes bread like you do.”
“Coincidentally, I made fresh pumpernickel this morning. Want a slice?”
“No. I want two.”
Mrs. Daly laughed and pulled her daughter inside.
Before I could follow, Mr. Daly appeared, wearing his spectacles and a brown cardigan with patched elbows although it was pressing eighty-five outside. “Dallas. I want to tal
k to you.”
“Um, okay?”
He led me down the hall to his bookshelf-lined study before I could so much as shout to the women where I was headed. Since there was fresh bread involved, Teagan probably wouldn’t even notice I was gone.
