Chapter Thirteen
Thanksgiving Day
Becca hadn’t been so nervous in a long time. It didn’t help that her cousin had bailed for sunnier plans, or that Deacon also seemed to be busy. It would just be her, Simon, and Mitch celebrating a family holiday together.
She had no idea why she should feel funny about having him over. Mitch hadn’t yet been to her house. Maybe that was it. But she’d scrubbed the place clean from top to bottom, so much so that Simon had asked if they expected the Canadian Prime Minister—on whom she had a huge and open crush.
The house sparkled, the turkey had been cooking for hours, and all the side dishes sat prepped in the fridge, ready to cook.
She smoothed down her hair again.Gah. Stop acting stupid! It’s just Mitch.
She hadn’t seen him since Sunday, and she found herself missing him.
She and Mitch had seen each other naked. He made her entire body come alive. There was no question they shared a physical attraction. What scared her was how much she’d come to look forward to his smiles. To that special glint in his eyes when he looked at her, how he’d touch her gently and stare at her as if he knew her inside and out.
Her emotions were all over the place with him. And it made no sense.
“Mom, Flash is here,” Simon called, excited to have his idol visiting.
And that was another thing. Her son seemed enamored with Mitch. Had she been lacking as a mother in some way, or was her son simply needing a man’s influence?
Becca gripped her hands and told herself to calm down. Simon was fine. Mitch would be a nice addition to their dinner, and she’d look on his coming as a kind of charity, since the poor man would otherwise have been all alone…
You are ridiculous. Charity? He could have had any number of invitations. For all you know he’s joining Rita, Linda, or Cherise after pie.
“Yeah, this is the living room,” Simon was saying.
She hoped her house looked decent enough. A two-story Craftsman that had been built twenty years ago, the house gave her and Simon plenty of room without being overwhelming. Paned glass windows in the front let in plenty of light, and once past the grand living room, the home spilled into a more open floor plan, the dining room, kitchen, and small sunroom joined as one.
The hardwood floors Neal had put in had saved them when the winter hit and they tracked snow inside. Comfortable furniture that would stand the test of time gave the rooms a comfy feel. Nothing very sophisticated about the place, but it worked well enough for the two of them.
The bedrooms and spare she used as an office were upstairs, out of sight and hopefully out of mind for Mitch.
She heard Simon and Mitch speaking about life after football before Simon added, “Oh, take off your shoes. Mom’s rules.” His voice sounded louder, so she knew he’d ventured deeper into the house.
She told herself not to blush, that all sorts of smart people removed their shoes to save having to buy new flooring they could ill afford.
“Good rule. I usually do that at my place to keep the floors clean.” Mitch’s deep voice in her house sounded strange. And a bit…welcome?
“Hey, Mom. It’s Mitch,” Simon announced as they entered the dining area.
Mitch laughed. “Cute apron.”
She looked down at the hearts and cartoon men in boxer shorts covering her. “A gift from Nora. It’s my only clean apron after Simon trashed my favorite one.”
Simon grimaced. “It was worse than that one. It has a picture of Justin Trudeau smiling on it. Ew.”
“Oh?”
“Mom’s not-so-secret crush. And my new daddy, if I’m good.” Simon totally threw her under the bus.
Mitch just laughed. “Another one bites the dust.”
Becca felt her cheeks flaming. She pointed to Simon. “No pie for you.” The boy quickly excused himself from the room. “And for your information,” she said to Mitch. “I like Trudeau’s policies.”
Mitch raised a brow.
“And his looks. There, I said it. It’s nice to see a politician with a brain, charm, and looks who’s under the age of ninety.”
