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I laughed, but then we moved even closer to his parents, and my smile died. Just like that. Because the nerves had set in.
I had no experience with real, live parents who actually cared about their child and wanted to be involved in his life. I instantly grew unsure and paranoid. They were going to take one look at me, see how dysfunctional of a family I’d come from, how dysfunctional I was, and they were going to send me away from their son forever.
What had I been thinking to meet his parents? Stupid Caroline.
They glanced our way, and his mom’s mouth fell open when she spotted me holding her son’s hand. And yep, my insecurities rose even higher.
“Oh God, Oren.” I clamped my fingers around his hard. “You didn’t tell them I was coming with you, did you?”
He leaned toward my ear, smirking. “I thrive on shock value.”
I leaned up to hiss, “Well, I hope you also thrive on death, because I’m going to kill you for this.”
He pinched my ass. I jumped, unable to hold in a startled yelp. When I glared up at him, he threw his head back and laughed outright, his voice decibels above everything else in the restaurant. And crap, people were staring.
Oh God, take me now.
His mother and father stood. “Well,” His mother murmured, her eyes glittering with glee. “I was beginning to wonder who was walking toward us with this pretty young lady at his side because it couldn’t possibly be our son bringing a girl to dinner, but that familiar laugh tells me I’m wrong. You really are our Oren...with a friend.”
“Hey, Ma.” He swept in with a huge hug and lifted her off her feet, making her squeal and slap his arm to get him to drop her back to the ground.
Then he turned to the Silver Fox version of himself. “Dad.” He held out his hand. “This is Caroline. She thinks you’re hot.”
The floor opened up and I fell through to an alternate universe where I suddenly couldn’t hear or move; I could only feel this mortified numbness freeze me into place.
“Oren,” his mother scolded, reprimanding him with another tap on the arm. “Stop embarrassing the poor girl. Sorry about him, dear,” she said, her voice winded, as she brushed back her hair that had fluttered out of place when Oren hugged her. But a smile had lit her eyes. She loved her son very much, even when he was inappropriate. “He’s always been that way. And trying to shut him up only seems to encourage him to continue. I’m Brenda, by the way.” She held out a hand to me. “Oren said you’re Caroline, right?”
It was bizarre to hear someone else actually call him Oren. But I cleared my throat and nodded. “Right.” My voice was stiff. My shoulders were stiff. My freaking panties felt stiff. I was afraid to breathe wrong in fear of saying or doing the wrong thing and just...shattering all the stiff parts.
It didn’t even matter how gracious and polite his mother was being. I still wanted to sink through the floor in embarrassment. “Oh, what a lovely name. It’s so nice to meet you.” Her eyes sparkled as she beamed up at Oren. “Well done, son.”
He snorted. “As if I had anything to do with catching her. She caught me.”
I wanted to elbow him in the side and tell him to shut it, but I settled for a warning glance.
The bastard merely winked at me.
“And I’m Phil,” his dad spoke up, also reaching out a hand to shake with me. “I think you’re hot too.”
My fingers froze in his while Oren choked on air next to me. “Jesus, Dad.”
“What?” Phil dropped his palm from mine to lift his eyebrows Oren’s way. “It’s that slang for pretty that you youngsters use these days.”
“Oh my God.” Oren groaned and held up a hand. “Promise me you’ll never use that slang term again.”
“You got it,” his dad assured before he slipped me a sly little grin, telling me he was just messing with Oren. Then he turned to his wife, murmuring loud enough for us to hear, “I guess we shouldn’t let him hear what kinds of slang we use in the bedroom then.”
As Oren cried out and slapped his hands over his ears, claiming, “I’m deaf. You guys have just killed my poor, innocent ears,” I burst out laughing. He sent me a scowl. “It’s not funny, damn it.”
“Oren. Language,” his mother scolded. “We’re in public.”
I lifted my eyebrows, wondering what she’d say if she heard his pot
ty mouth while he was in Ellamore. The boy didn’t know a clean word.
“Let’s sit already,” his dad suggested, his grin still a little smug.
As Oren dropped into a chair and slid his hands from his ears, he glanced over at me when I sat quietly beside him, my spine still stiff with nerves.
