“That would be Hector Richards.”
Daniel frowned. “I thought his name was Hector Jackson.”
“It is now.” Lila gave them a wide smile.
“Doesn’t the woman usually take the guy’s last name?” Daniel asked.
“Not this time. Hector Richards, my future husband, will give us whatever we need.”
Kenzie chuckled. “Moving a little fast, aren’t you? You only met him yesterday.”
“I should warn the poor guy.” Daniel gave a mock shudder at Kenzie in the rearview. “For he has no idea the horror that awaits.”
“Do it and die,” Lila warned. “Kenzie, what did I tell you about letting him watch horror movies without me? ‘Horror that awaits’? I know that line.”
While Lila and Daniel compared likes and dislikes about their recent horror faves, Kenzie took note of the time.
The countdown had started. Less than twenty-four hours until she met Evan, alone, at his home.
What would she do? Would she kiss him? Let him kiss her? Would they just talk or turn into holding-hands buddies? Or would they do…more? God, she wanted to, but was she ready to make that leap?
Even more troubling—what would she wear?
Chapter 10
Breakfast at his mother’s did not go according to plan.
Evan had woken up late, cranky and distracted by his dreams involving Kenzie and the whipped topping from a chocolate-mint sundae. He’d beaten off in the shower and felt pathetic that he couldn’t help himself. He liked a hell of a lot more than Kenzie’s body. Evan had always been attracted to style over substance. His problem was that Kenzie had glorious helpings of both.
Thoughts of Kenzie’s warm smile always brought to mind those ripe lips…which would look perfect wrapped around any number of Evan’s body parts. So not good to be thinking about in mixed company.
Especiallythismixed company.
“Evan, Son, I thought you were going to bring sweets?”
“I’m sorry. I forgot since I was running late.”
“But it’s tradition.” Jane Griffith scowled. “I was really looking forward to an apple fritter today.” She wore jeans and a USMC sweatshirt, the one he’d gotten her two Christmases ago. To his surprise, she looked young and vibrant. Perhaps anger agreed with her?
He would have said so but didn’t want her jumping down his throat for it. He sighed and hit her with a skewed confrontation, hoping to shock a confession out of her by attacking her mood sideways. “Mom, are we ever going to talk about why you’ve been avoiding me?” Wasn’t it the kid who needed less “mom time”? How had his mother turned from hovering to barely there? “What are you doing about all these appointments and errands I normally take you to? You don’t drive.”
She hadn’t gotten behind the wheel since getting in a motor vehicle accident more than ten years ago. It hadn’t been a problem when his dad had ferried her around. But since Dad’s death six years ago, Evan had stepped in to take up the slack. She hadn’t really needed him until a few months ago, when she’d gotten sick.
“There is such a thing as Uber, honey. Or a taxi. I think Lyft is a thing too.” She frowned, checking her watch. “You know, it’s not too late. Sofa’s might not be out of apple fritters yet.”
He had no intention of waiting in a huge-ass line at the popular bakery on a Sunday morning. The crowd would be ridiculous, especially since he’d be right smack in the middle of the Sunday-morning rush. “Mom, it won’t kill you to go without. Now how about we talk about something important.”
“Like my apple fritter?”
He bit back a curse. “This isn’t about me being late or you not getting sweets you don’t need.” Her addiction to sugar was always a battle, one he liked to bring up to deflect from himself when he got in trouble.
“I know what I need.” The militant gleam in her eyes didn’t bode well.
“You’re being weird. Talk to me.”
“I’d been hoping to avoid this.” She sighed. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Evan. But you’re… Well, there’s no way to put it nicely. You’ve become clingy.”
He blinked. “What?”
