It took me a moment to realize the scent of freshly cut grass and lavender wasn’t from the pup trying to burrow into my shirt but from her, and I desperately wanted to hold onto it for just a little longer.
“I have to get back to work,” Summer added, and I couldn’t tell if she was stalling or not.
“Okay then,” Mom said, setting Tito down and watching as he ran to the water dish and drank, getting more on the floor than in his mouth. Port wiggled in my arms until I did the same, chuckling as she fought her brother for the cool drink.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Summer,” Mom said, leaning closer and wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
“Absolutely. Thanks again for listening, and for the invite. Always a pleasure, Cinnamon.” She wiggled her fingers and turned, making sure to shut the glass door behind her.
At least she had the common sense to close the damn thing all the way.
“Mom,” I huffed, scratching my five o’clock shadow and pinning her with a stern look. “Will you finally let us install a screen door for you?”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. But won’t you have enough going on with the upgrades to Cam’s place and training these mischievous beasts? Not to mention running your business, taking care of your dog, and leaving time in the day for, I don’t know, sleeping, eating, socialization, sex…”
I choked on air, sputtering to draw oxygen into my lungs as Mom cackled like a hyena, slapping her knee and making Port and Tito run to her, barking like mad.
“Even if there was something to talk about, you are the last person I’d share those personal details with.”
“Oh, you spoilsport. I am a healthy and virile woman who enjoys male company on occasion. I can’t begin to think of what your poor libido is doing right now.”
“I am begging you to stop talking,” I said, stepping backward until I reached the sofa in the den.
She followed me, crossing her arms and arching an eyebrow. “I read a study at the doctor’s office the other week that said men do not fully hit their sexual peak until they turn forty. Wouldn’t you prefer to share all that excess energy and latent aggression with another person?”
“Wait. What?” I said before my traitorous mouth could reconcile that I’d stepped into a carefully laid trap by one of the most cunning minds I knew.
“It’s the truth,” Mom answered, tilting her head. “You’re coming into the prime of your life, and it’s time to stop allowing your world to revolve around your immediate family.”
My shoulders slumped and I stuffed my hands in my pockets, taking a step around the couch and toward the front door.
“I’m just saying, my favorite, that the path you’re on needs a serious detour. Your life should not revolve around fixing every little thing for me and your brothers.”
What is this nonsense? Is every second Friday of the month officially Pick On Maverick Day?
She followed my steps, putting her hands on my shoulders and staring into my eyes. I cringed, waiting for the inevitable lecture, but nothing but silence stretched between us.
“I’ll need the leashes and reward treats, please.”
I was desperate for a change of subject. Fuck, I’d even discuss my non-existent sex life with her if it meant she’d stop this line of questioning.
“I’ll get them in a minute.”
Her hands left my shoulders and came to cup my cheeks. “One day, you are going to wake up and I’m not going to be here.”
“Mom—”
“Shut up, Son. It’s the truth. What’s going to happen when that day comes? All your friends are married, and your brothers are all in serious relationships. It’s time for you to take a hard look at what you want the next fifty years of your life to look like.”
I nodded—just one harsh jerk of my head, but it was enough for her to give me a sharp nod and a gentle pat on the cheek.
“Good. Now, I’ll get the treats.”
“Sure, Mom. Thanks.”
My mood soured, circling the drain like it was the only remaining evidence of a massive hangover, when tworambunctious balls of energy swooped into the living room, demanding attention. I dropped to my knees, showering them with pets and praise and wondering how these two little fluff balls could take my sour mood and turn it on its axis.
Dammit, Summer.
