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I’m not complaining. Every new side of Liam I discover is one I am totally here for.
Ding-dong!
And now, he’s here. On my front doorstep.
Heart pounding with anticipation, I race down the hallway, sliding in my sock feet. I throw open the door.
“Hi,” I say breathlessly.
Liam peers down at me, hand aloft and clenched to knock again. His expression turns from surprised to amused almost immediately as he takes in my disheveled appearance. “Hello.”
“Okay, I’m gonna talk real fast cuz I have precisely two point five seconds before my mother appears and I just want to say I’m sorry about them in advance,” I pant out in a rush.
He gives me an exaggerated frown and cups his ear. “Sorry, didn’t catch that.”
I roll my eyes and open my mouth to repeat myself, but right on cue—
“Helloooooo!” My mother materializes in a cloud of perfume and a frilly apron. “So lovely to see you again, Liamdarling. Ooh, and you brought wine!” Mom manages to air-kiss Liam’s cheeks, pluck the bottle of burgundy from his hand, and usher him into our entryway in one seamless motion. She makes a face at the French label on the bottle and gives Liam a too-bright smile as she pats his hand. “Mmm. It’s not quite Kim Crawford Moscato, but I’m sure it’s great.”
Height of class and sophistication, my mother.
“Thank you for having me.” He smiles as he steps inside, looks around the entryway. “You have a lovely home.”
I love how much he smiles lately. I could watch him smile forever. Especially when it’s aimed at me.
Mom giggles like a schoolgirl as Liam—quite admirably—admires her framed needlepoints.
“Oh, stop! Interior design is just a little hobby of mine. Learned it all from Good Housekeeping. Now, take off your coat. Stay awhile.” Mom then proceeds to practically undress the man.
“Told you,” I mouth at him with a grin as he obediently shrugs off his jacket. Underneath, he’s wearing the softest looking charcoal-gray sweater I’ve ever seen.
I want to put my hands all over it. All over him.
He raises his eyebrows flirtily in response. “Worth it,” he mouths back.
I feel giddy at the thought of going away with this man for a long weekend.
Luke and Mindy’s wedding is at a ranch a couple of hours outside the city. Talk about a romantic setting… although, to be fair, anything would top laser tag, a strip mall parking lot, and a copy room with rattling pipes.
On paper, at least. My flutter-inducing memories of his mouth on mine might beg to differ.
Liam gives me a lingering look over his shoulder that’s seared with heat as he’s dragged past me by my mother, who’s holding onto his arm like a kid clutches a balloon at the fair. His gaze makes my toes curl as I recall each of our kisses, and a soft smile settles on my face as I follow them into the living room to greet my dad. In typical Dad fashion, he’s more interested in his newspaper than our lunch guest—who may or may not be his only daughter’s new beau.
He’s a man of few words, my father. The two of them will probably get along great.
As Mom buzzes around the living room like an over-excited bee while Dad does his best to nod along and look vaguely interested, I notice something—notice how odd a couple Mom and Dad are. But while they may be opposites, theywork.
Balance each other out.
The thought gives me hope. Maybe Liam and I—different as we are—really could make this crazy, sexy, sweet little thing between us into something that’s really real.
“Coming, Annie?” Mom calls, gesturing at me. “We don’t want the casserole to get cold, do we?”
“Nope, we certainly do not.”
* * *
After approximately sixty-five tons of chicken-broccoli casserole, four Tupperwares of “just in case you get hungry on the drive” leftovers, and a laundry list of questions that included Liam’s blood type, family history, and SAT scores, we have finally escaped my parents house. Liam and I are pulling out of the driveway, with my bags (yes, plural. Packing is hard) stacked in the backseat.
