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“Well, a milkshake isn’t really a dessert.”
“That’s not what you said when I was growing up.”
Ted coughs, but I think it might be to cover up for a laugh. My mother sends him a look that would make lesser men run. Ted just smiles at her, and it’s then that it hits me. They are different in a lot of ways. I don’t know Ted that well, but I come by my OCD issues from my mother. He seems like the kind of guy who can take what life throws at him. And dammit, that might make him perfect for my mother.
“Watch it, buster. I’ll have you sleeping in the other wing.”
“Why is that horrible?” Ted asks, amusement threading through his voice.
“Cousin Clara is there.”
“Oh, please, I know how to handle a woman’s advances. You know I have no interest in another woman.”
“That would be my ex-sister-in-law you would want to avoid.”
I nod at that. Nancy’s mom is handsy with every available man she doesn’t share blood with. And yes, she is married.
“Then, what’s the problem?”
My mother looks at me to explain. “Great Cousin Clara is a bit out of touch with reality. She sees every man as her ex, and one thing that my grandmother always says is that all Howard men are reprobates. She hates him, even thirty years after he died. When she’s in residence, only women work that wing.”
“Why is that?”
“She threatened to kill Josh when he was at the house once.”
“The sheriff?”
“Yep,” I say, popping my p. “Then, there was the time she tried to kill my father. I think grandmother put him there on purpose. Just be glad Estella likes you.”
“How do you know that?” Ted asks.
“She didn’t put you in the wing with Clara.”
“You were right, love,” Ted says. “The Howard family is insane. Present company excluded.”
“Thanks for that, but I’m living with a woman who stole my house and keeps adopting cats.”
My mother chuckles.
“Ted, can you give me a second with Jon.”
“Of course.” He winks at me. “Good luck.”
Once we’re alone, my mother studies me. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Something is going on with you and Avery. Please tell me you didn’t upset her.”
“She stole my house. I would think you would be on my side.”
Oh, no. It’s the look. The one she gives me when she knows I’m obsessing about something at unhealthy levels. Which, okay, is true, but it seems to have changed. Before, I was angry about it. Now, I’m just obsessed with getting more kisses like the one from last night.
“What is going on with you?” she asks again.
“You keep asking that, and I keep saying the same thing.”
Sure, I’m thinking about selling my company, hiding out from my ex, who might be stalking me, and obsessing over a woman who not only stole my house but is entirely and absolutely wrong for me.
