“You do make the world a more beautiful place.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek and felt his skin flush beneath my lips. Sure enough, his face was a pretty shade of red when I pulled back. “I wonder what they’d call that shade in a lipstick,” I pondered out loud.
Josh’s response was to elbow me in the ribs before he walked ahead of me, pushing his cart with his head held high. I learned quickly that Josh didn’t quite know how to handle it when someone served him up a bit of his own smart-ass medicine. I liked that I was unpredictable to him and kept him on his toes. I stood there longer than I should have, admiring his sassy, bubble butt as he walked away.
“I like you more and more each day.”
I turned around and looked into Meredith’s smiling eyes. I was curious what I did that made her so happy so I asked, “Why?”
“You’re perfect for him,” the woman dressed in her Sunday finest standing beside Meredith said. She had the same mocha-colored skin and keen brown eyes that sparkled with mirth as Josh’s best friend. I didn’t have to rely too heavily on my detecting skills to know I was standing in front of Meredith’s mother. “You give that sass right back to him and keep him on his toes.” I was glad to hear that my earlier speculation had been right. “Besides, I know love when I see it.”
I leaned forward and said softly, “Don’t tell him that or…”
“I’ll scare him to death,” she finished for me. “I know how my boy works, and yes, I claim him as my own. I promised Bertie that I would look after him when she moved to Florida and I take my promises seriously.” She extended her hand to me and said, “I’m Wilhelmina Richmond, by the way. My friends call me Willa.” I shook her hand and after a long awkward pause she added, “That includes you too.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Willa.” The earlier mention of Josh’s mom reminded me that I would be meeting her in a few weeks. I wanted to do something nice when I met Bertie, perhaps gift her a bottle of her favorite perfume or something, and asked Willa for suggestions.
“Do you really want to make a good impression on Bertie?” she asked me.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Respect,” she said then looked at Meredith. “Take note of how a man should talk to your mother.” I raised my brow, wondering what she was referring to but decided to ask Meredith later because I knew Josh would double back and look for me before too much longer. Willa locked her eyes on mine and said, “Treat her son the way he deserves to be treated and I promise you that she’s gonna love you.” It sounded too simple to be true, but that’s exactly how I would feel if I had a son or daughter.
As I predicted, Josh returned to my side mere seconds after Willa finished her sentence. “Mama Richmond,” he said before he was wrapped tight in a hug. “I miss your face.”
“Boy, I’ve lived in the same house for nearly fifteen years. Do I need to print off a map for you or are you just playing hard to get?” Then she looked at me and amended, “Or, perhaps you’ve been very busy.” Josh wasn’t the only one who blushed after Willa’s comment. “I remember what it was like when things were new.”
“Mama,” Meredith said, but her admonishment was ruined by her snort.
“I’ll stop over tomorrow,” Josh promised, tugging on my arm to get me to follow. “This guy made me late and I have to get a move on if I’m going to make dinner an amazing event.”
“Dinner is always an amazing event,” Meredith countered.
“Thanks, love,” Josh told her as he walked backwards. I took the cart from him in fear that he’d run someone over. “I’ll see you tonight.” He then blew air kisses at Willa and said, “And you tomorrow.”
“What’s for dinner?” I asked Josh once he turned back around. I hadn’t missed a Sunday dinner since he first invited me after we kissed and made up after he returned from Thanksgiving with his family in Florida. I was the first guy Josh ever invited over to the precious night he only shared with the two people closest to him in the world–Chaz and Meredith.
“You’re in for a real treat,” he said proudly. “I’m making you beef stew and cornbread.” I didn’t miss how he said he was making it for me.
My mouth watered at the thought and I groaned so loud that people turned to look. “He’s making cornbread,” I said, as if that explained everything.
“Homemadecornbread,” Josh amended. “Not some crappy box mix.” Some lady, who’d just tossed a name brand box of cornbread mix in her cart, gave him the side-eye and sped away.
The rest of the trip through the store was less eventful and Josh refrained from insulting anyone else with talk about his superior cooking skills. He did take his sweet old-fashioned time squeezing the produce in a way that made me think of the way he milked my balls right before we arrived. I couldn’t tell if he was dilly dallying to annoy and tease me or if he was that particular about his fruit. I patiently pushed the cart without saying a single word and exchanged sympathetic looks with other men who were in the same boat as me. I couldn’t wait to get back ho… to his house and smell the amazingness that I knew his beef stew would be.
It seemed like days before we were once again back in my car heading to Josh’s house to put away his groceries and pet supplies. A light snow had begun to fall while we were inside the store so I was paying more attention to the roads than whatever Josh was saying at the time. I had seen just how quickly the roads got slick when the temperature hovered around or was below freezing and wrecking was the last thing I wanted to do that day.
“Are you paying attention?” he asked primly.
“Not really.” Hey, I wanted points for honesty, but it didn’t look like I was going to get them.
“That just added an extra day on before you get to see my studio and the special routine I have planned for you.”
I sat up straighter in my seat and glanced over at him quickly to see if he was joking. He was not. It was the first time he ever mentioned a special routine and I was damn determined to knock that day off my sentence. “I’m sorry, dear.” The snort Josh gave told me that my voice was anything but the contrite one I had planned.
“I wassaying,” Josh said exaggeratingly, “that I read an article online yesterday that said a lot of gay couples start looking alike after they’ve dated for a while. I’m just stating for the record that we,” I saw him gesture his finger between us out of the corner of my eye, “will never be that couple.”
I gasped as if I was truly affronted when I was actually excited that he thought of us as a couple, even though the R word had yet to be used by either of us. “Are you saying that you think I’m ugly?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Detective…” He skipped whatever insult he was about to use when I pinned him with the same scowl I gave perps when I played bad cop. “I simply meant that I like how different we are as individuals. I think we complement each other.”
