“You know your father likes to make an entrance,” she said dismissively. Her mother turned her gaze on me. Mia had gotten her height and shape from her mother, who appeared to be barely above five-four. But that was all Mia got from her mother in the looks department. Mrs. Raymond was a few shades darker than her daughter, with a pair of deep-set dark brown eyes to match.
“Brutus, we’re glad to have you over finally,” Mrs. Raymond started.
“It’s my pleasure to meet you.” I handed her the salad that I’d prepared for dinner. “This is our contribution to dinner.”
Her eyes shifted to her daughter after looking at the clear lid of the salad bowl. “Mia, you made salad?”
Mia shook her head. “That’s all him.” She beamed up at me.
“I hope you’re not allergic to anything. There are some pine nuts in the salad.”
Her mom’s smile widened, and for a beat I did see the resemblance to Mia’s smile. Mia had inherited her brilliant smile from her mother.
“No allergies over here. And I tell Ray all the time we need to eat more vegetables. He’ll get a kick out of this.” Mrs. Raymond laughed.
When she left us to put the salad in the kitchen, I turned to Mia. She ran her teeth over her bottom lip. I lifted my hand to her chin, taking it between my thumb and forefinger to pull it free.
I was about to tell her I was the only one allowed to suck on that plump lip when footsteps against the wooden floor drew my attention. Standing in the center of the living room entrance stood Ray Raymond, Mia’s father. Yes, that was his real name.
His nickname was Ray-Ray. Not something that Mia shared with me but the information I’d found through my own means. He stood at just under six feet, and his lighter complexion and slightly angular features would’ve given him away as Mia’s father if I hadn’t already known. She was the perfect combination of her parents.
“Daddy.” She went over to hug her father.
Something inside of me clenched up at seeing her in another man’s arms. Even if it was her father. Stupid emotion. I knew it was, but shit, I couldn’t help it.
“Baby girl,” he greeted before his eyes moved to me. He didn’t say anything at first, but I didn’t need to wait for him to speak.
“Mr. Raymond.” I approached with my hand outstretched.
“Daddy, this is Brutus,” Mia said, looking between us.
He didn’t smile, but he did shake my hand. “The young man she met in Mexico.”
“On the plane to Mexico,” I corrected.
No break in his somewhat icy demeanor as he continued to look me over. And despite the cold reception, I kind of liked this man. I liked men who were protective of their families and the people they loved. Mr. Raymond cared for his daughter. His affection was evident in his eyes when he looked at her.
“How’s that coffee shop, daughter?”
“You were just there yesterday,” she commented with a laugh.
“Had one of those scones and a caramel mojito?” He pinched his brows together as if knowing that wasn’t the right word but not quite certain. “Janice!” he called to his wife.
A beat later, Mia’s mother came from around the corner, out of the kitchen. “Why are you yelling in my house like that?”
“What’s the name of the drink I had at Mia’s shop yesterday?”
“Caramel macchiato,” Mia and her mother said simultaneously.
“That’s it.” He snapped his fingers. “It was good too. I wanted to get another one but your mama …” He patted his rounded belly.
“The doctor told you about all of that sugar,” Mrs. Raymond scolded. “Sharise and Boris—” She broke off when the doorbell rang. “That should be them.”
A few beats later Mia's sister, Sharise, and her husband, Boris, walked through the door, greeting her mother. I was introduced to the couple, who opted to leave their kids home with the sitter for the night.
Not long after, we ended up in the dining area where Mia’s mother served a delicious meal of biscuits and gravy with a side of chorizo sausage, along with the salad I’d brought. Sharise had made a fruit salad to have a lighter dessert.
All the while, the family talked over dinner, catching up. I was included and asked questions here and there. One point of interest for Sharise was how Mia and I met. She asked lots of questions about our time in Mexico, but I got the impression she knew most of the answers. Either she wanted to see how honest I would be or how outright I would be in front of her parents.
