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“I’m serious. We can’t kiss.”
“And why the fuck not?” I hiss my disapproval. Now all I can do is stare at her perfect lips. So pink and full.Dammit.
Her chin tips up and she crosses her arms with determination. “I don’t want it to feel like anything other than what it is.”
“And that is?” I’ll respect her wishes if she doesn’t want me to kiss her. I’d never make her do anything she wasn’t on board with. I can’t lie and say I’m not dying to do it though.
“This is… no strings attached,” she unfolds her arms and makes an ex in the air with her two pointer fingers. “You might forget that if we get too smoochy. Better to avoid it all together.”
My shoulders shake with laughter. “Alright,buddy.” I refuse to say friends. Buddy will work for now. “No kissing.”
I’m a strong-willed man, aren’t I? I can keep a few tiny little rules.
Chapter 16
Blythe
Squeezing my thighs together to dull the ache between my legs is the only thing keeping me glued to my seat for the rest of the drive.
The needy impatient side of me is begging me to see what Gage would do if I pounced on those strong thighs of his, looped my arms around those hard round shoulders, and set the spark between us aflame right this second.
The more realistic and cautious part of me is glad I won’t get the chance because the truck comes to a slow creep down a narrow driveway.
A weathered sign that looks like it used to be white, but is now brownish, with the words Westridge Food Bank on it comes into view. Right behind it is a brick building. Gage pulls around back and I realize this is our destination.
Instead of asking questions, I pull my boots back on and follow him out to the bed of the truck to start helping him unload it. There are various Styrofoam coolers to carry inside. And they’reheavy. When Gage goes back outside for more, I lift the lid of one of them and look inside. There are stacks of frozen meat in a variety of different cuts. The label says S Ranch. Gage walks in a second later with a crate of overflowing vegetables. I leap forward to catch a few that spill over the sides.
“This is a lot of food,” I say.
“It’s not much, really. We usually bring more than this in the spring and summer. Not as many fresh produce options this time of year.”
My eyes widen. “And you donate all of this? How often?”
He clears his throat and looks away. “The ranch donates it. Every week.”
“Well, who do we have here?” A tall woman with short brown hair walks into the kitchen. There’s a welcoming warmth to her voice and the cream-colored apron she’s wearing has little baby blue polka dots all over it.
“This is Blythe Farrow. Warren’s sister,” his hand finds the small of my back, severing my last bit of resolve. As much as I’d like to sit here and chat, I’d rather leave and see what it feels like for his hands to make their way elsewhere on my body.
I fix my expression and respectfully reach out for a handshake, but she goes in for a hug instead.
She’s still squeezing me tight and she says, “I’m Miss Lynn.” When she pulls back and holds me at arm’s length, I smile. “It’s nice to meet you dear. Warren’s sister? I just met your mother at book club last month. She bragged about you two until her throat hurt,” she laughs.
That sounds like Mama, always letting everyone know what her two kids have been up to. Whether they asked or not. I can’t even imagine how insufferable she’ll be to strangers when she has grandchildren. Endless unsolicited baby pictures and videos.
“How is she by the way? You know with all of the…” Miss Lynn has a concerned look on her face and waves her finger in a circular motion around her mouth.
I’m confused. “With the what?”
“The sleep apnea? The surgery?” Miss Lynn clarifies.
A phone rings and Gage reaches into his back pocket. “I need to take this, sorry. Be right back.” He leaves the kitchen before answering.
My head snaps back to Miss Lynn and I want to scream and quiz her for every detail. I haven’t heard a single thing about my mother dealing with sleep apnea or some sort of surgery. My mind whirls and goes in every direction of the possible worst-case scenarios. She notices the worry on my face and instantly places a hand on my forearm.
“Oh dear. I am mortified that I just blurted that out. I assumed you knew.”
That’s a punch to the gut. Of course, I should have known. She’s my mother.
