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“We’ve only been dating for a month,” she tells me, sobering a little. “You asked me out for coffee in the break room, because you were captivated by my beauty and feminine charms.” She notices my eyebrow quirking. “I have an assload of feminine charm, thank you very much.”
“Clearly,” I answer with only a hint of amusement.
Humor is good. Humor makes me feel less like I want to kiss her.
“We’ve been on a few dates a week since then,” she goes on, ignoring me. “I haven’t met your parents yet, but you think I am the bee’s knees.”
“Excuse me?”
“The tits?”
I frown at her, and she laughs, diffusing the tension even more, thankfully.
“You think I’m great,” she clarifies. “I hung the moon. We are deliriously happy. You’ve never seen a model train in your life.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
She shakes her head. “Never mind. Are you ready for this?”
“I...” I take another glance at the very innocent-looking home we’re parked in front of. Nothing about it suggests that I have anything to worry about when going inside. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Good.” She gives me an encouraging nod. “Just remember—whatever you do... Youabsolutelydo not want to see the wedding book.”
“The what?”
“Just trust me on this.”
She’s already getting out of the car before I can press for more details onthatstrange warning, and I realize when her door closes that she’s expecting me to follow.
It’s just a normal house with normal people,I remind myself.There’s nothing to worry about.
Even with all my assurances, for some reason I still find myself terrified to go inside.
?Moira Carter isa delightful nightmare. It’s really the only way I can describe her.
She’s loud, opinionated, caring, funny, and most of all, she is completely obsessed with Mackenzie’s well-being. Not that I can label this a flaw, by any means. I doubt anyone would argue that caring too much is a point against a person. I’ve survived a fierce hug and a warm welcome from this small, graying woman who laughs too loud and talks too much, everything about her the exact opposite of the family gatherings I’m used to. I can’t really decide what to make of it, honestly, but I wouldn’t say I dislike it.
“So,” Moira is saying from across the table as she hands me a bowl of peas. “How long did you have your eye on my Mackenzie?”
I busy myself with scooping more peas than I’ve ever eaten in one sitting onto my plate, if only to give myself a moment to think. “Oh, I... Well. You know. Mackenzie is... hard to ignore.”
Moira smiles. “Because she’s so beautiful, right?”
“Gran,”Mackenzie chides. “Can you not?”
“Shush,” Moira clucks. “Do you know how long it’s been sinceyou brought someone home to meet us?” She pats her husband on the arm, looking put out. “What’s it been, Phil? A year? Maybe more?”
Moira’s quieter counterpart and Mackenzie’s grandfather—an average-sized man in his midseventies who seems content to let his wife do most of the talking—nods absently as he tucks a bite of pot roast into his mouth.
“Been a while,” Phil answers gruffly.
“See?” Moira tuts. “You can’t just bring someone like Noah home and not expect me to gush. I mean, my goodness. I’ve never even met an alpha. Have you, Phil?”
Phil shrugs, pushing his mashed potatoes around. “Knew a guy at the auto shop once. Big fella. Could take a tire off in twenty seconds. It was the damnedest thing.”
“But Noah is adoctor,” Moira gushes. “What a match you two make!”
I can almost feel myself blushing, Moira having been praising me for just being...mesince we sat down for dinner.
