Mitch walked back in with a bouquet of flowers that took her breath away. “These are for you. Can’t believe I forgot them in the car.”
Becca stared. She hadn’t gotten flowers in forever. Neal used to bring her a bunch every Friday, like clockwork. Except for that final Friday, when he’d failed to come home…
She blinked to clear her suddenly blurry vision.
Mitch glanced between her and Simon. “Ah, you have a vase I can put them in for you?”
“I’ll get it.” Simon took the flowers from him and dashed for the pantry.
Mitch frowned. “You okay?”
She smiled, feeling ridiculous. The anniversary of Neal’s death had passed. She’d already spent years mourning him. When would the weepy crap end? “I’m fine. I love flowers, thanks. I’d better get the mashed potatoes started.” She turned to head back into the kitchen, but Mitch stopped her.
“Becca, it’s okay.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Thanksgiving means family, and it can be tough to deal with people we’ve lost.” He turned her to face him. “It’s okay to miss him, you know.”
“I know that.” She refused to cry.
“And it’s okay to admit that you’re secretly jealous you don’t have any cool socks to match mine.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I saw you eyeballing my Captain Americas with envy. Maybe if you’re nice, I’ll get you some Black Widow socks for Christmas.”
She couldn’t help grinning at him. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But handsome. And smart. And amazing in be—”
“I’m back,” Simon said loudly. He saw Mitch holding her, but she couldn’t read his expression. “You making a move on my mom?”
“I will when you’re out of the room. For now, I’m letting her know it’s okay to want Captain America. But these socks are mine.”
Simon looked down and laughed. “Oh nice. I have some Justice League ones I wear sometimes.”
“DC? Please. Try Marvel, you heathen.”
Simon started arguing with Mitch about which comic franchise was best, and Becca escaped into the kitchen to finish making their Thanksgiving feast.
When Mitch joined her again, she’d calmed down enough to think about what they had done in front of her son. It wasn’t as if Simon had never seen her kiss another man. She’d dated, though it had been a while. But she’d never felt so drawn to a man, and she’d never been so lost in his touch that she’d forgotten to be more circumspect around her son.
“You need any help?”
“Not yet. Thanks for bringing everything.” She paused. “And the flowers.” She’d rearranged them in the vase Simon had found for them.
“Sure. Thanks for inviting me over.” He leaned over her shoulder to see into the pot of boiling potatoes. “It smells incredible in here.”
“My turkey is amazing.”
“You’reamazing.” He stepped back. “Seriously, thanks for inviting me. Deacon had other plans. I wouldn’t want to be home alone today. My house is great, but it’s just a place. This, Becca, is a home.”
She studied him, saw his sincerity, and smiled. “Food is always better with friends.”
“Goodfriends,” he corrected, then smirked. “I mean,amazingfriends. Talented friends. Super, incredibly athletic friends.”
“Okay, I’ve got the picture.” She looked for Simon, and not seeing him, crooked her finger at Mitch to lean closer. When he did, she gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Now no more kissing before Simon gets the wrong idea.”
Mitch nodded, stood back, and crossed his heart. “I so solemnly swear. Scout’s honor.”
“Were you ever a Boy Scout?”
