Was he serious? I mean, I wasn’t the best person to judge my mom’s cooking because I was biased. She was my mom. Everything she made was the best thing I ever tasted.
“Yeah, Mom, this is really great.” I dipped my spoon into the bowl, and when the taste of the creamy broth, homemade egg noodles, and the tender vegetables hit my tongue, it took me back to my childhood.
The chicken noodle was my dad’s favorite, and I could remember him coming in from the barn in the winter and stepping behind Mom at the stove as she added carrots, onions, and celery into the savory chicken broth to cook. He’d kiss her neck and say, “The only thing that smells better than this soup is you.”
“This was Leo’s favorite. Jericho always loves the homemade chicken and dumplings I make. This one is sort of a cross between the two that I developed before Jer went into the Army. I had both of my boys to keep happy.”
Mom’s face flushed as she stared at Sean and then me. “One day, you’ll understand what I mean. Stack the dishes in the sink. I’m going to bed, boys. Sean, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Make yourself at home.”
She walked over and kissed my cheek and then Sean’s. He stood to hug her, and I grinned. It was great to see Mom so happy.
I stood and hugged her too. “Love you. Glad to be home Mom.”
“I’m glad too, Jeri. Love you.”
After Mom went to bed, Sean and I finished our soup-stew, and we cleaned the dishes together instead of leaving the mess for Mom. She’d refused to let Dad put in a dishwasher, but I planned to change that soon. She didn’t need to have her hands in hot dishwater all the time.
When I turned off the kitchen light, I took Sean’s hand to lead him down the hall to my little bedroom with the ugly ruffled curtains.
I flipped on the ceiling light and closed the door. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”
Sean grinned. “It’s like a flashback to your formative years. What are those ribbons?”
I chuckled. “Four-H. I was a member in middle school. I entered feeder calves every year for four years. My dad wouldbuy a calf from one of the neighbors, and I’d work here on the farm to pay for it. It was a project we had together. I miss him.”
Sean took my hand and led me to the bed, turning down the quilt. “I can sleep on the couch, you know.”
I chuckled. “Oh hell, I wouldn’t make my worst enemy sleep on that old couch.” I grabbed a pair of shorts from my drawer and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed.
Worry engulfed me as I removed my prosthetic. Remembering Sean’s initial reaction to seeing my artificial leg, I worried he'd be freaked out again when I got in bed next to him. I could sleep in my dad’s old recliner in the living room, but I’d be all kinds of fucked up in the morning if I did that. The thing should have been trashed years ago with the broken springs and the crooked back.
I tossed my dirty clothes into the hamper and grabbed my leg, hopping from the bathroom to the bedroom and closing the door. Sean was under the top sheet, and my track pants were tossed on the chair in the corner. Was he wearing anything beneath that thin sheet? How much did I want to see?
I placed my leg on the floor next to my side of the bed and sat, facing him. “Does me not wearing the leg freak you out? I can sleep in the living room or keep the leg on.”
Sean stared at my stump and smiled, reaching out to gently caress my calf down to the end, his fingers sliding over the bottom. “Nope. Sleeping in it doesn’t sound as if it would be comfortable, and you wouldn’t sleep in the prosthetic if you were getting in bed with your boyfriend, right?”
Fuck, I hoped not. “I doubt it, or he wouldn’t be my boyfriend.”
Sean chuckled. “Point made.”
“I’ve never had a slumber party. I was hoping this would be my first.” My whisper was louder than it should have been, but Sean’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. He was a gorgeous, incredible man.
“I’m a little old to be having a slumber party, don’t you think?”
I turned on my side to look into those grass-green eyes. “How old are you?”
Sean mirrored my position and smiled. “I’ll be forty-one after Christmas. How about you?”
“I’m thirty. I’ll be thirty-one at the end of January. Did you always want to be a lobbyist?”
The sexy redhead chuckled. “Hell, no. I had no idea what a lobbyist did until I had to advocate for myself. I created a gay dating app back in college, 2003, and it took off pretty quick when word of mouth spread about it. It was designed to be more than a hook-up app, and members of the LGBTQIA+ community took to it like bees to honey.
“Anyway, I had to get approval to sell my app to a major software company because it grew to the point I couldn’t manage it alone. The larger company was gobbling up all the competition in as many markets as possible, and that includedLove Under the Rainbow,my app.”
“In 2003, I was eight.” I smirked at him, taking in the evil expression on his face at my teasing remark. It was sexy as hell.
“Anyway,smartass. To get the sale approved, I had to enlist the assistance of the ACLU to bring a case against the FTC and the DOJ for discrimination so I could get approval to sell. It was left to me to convince them that the app filled a unique need within the rainbow community and would be better served if it was available on a much larger platform than I could offer.
