My mom scowled. The bells on her Christmas headband jingled. “It won’t last. The two of them are toxic.”
“It’s Christmas,” Sandra said to my mom. “You have to look on the bright side. You have your own young thing now.”
The two giggled like schoolgirls. “Speak of the hunk.”
I turned slowly, my worst nightmare becoming a reality as Brody made his way across the room, channeling his inner Fabio.
Ugh no. No way.
“Tina.” Brody pulled my mom in for a very steamy kiss.
I proceeded to choke on my ham. I coughed, and Sandra handed me a glass of vodka cranberry while I gasped for breath.
“You have to tell your father when you see him next,” my mom insisted while I wheezed.
“He’s—” I gestured helplessly. “You can’t—”
“He is young,” my mom said, running her hands possessively over Brody’s chest.
I squeezed my eyes shut then opened them.
“And very good in bed.”
My eyes were starting to water from either the shock or the sight of Brody wearing a thick flannel scarf.
“I need some air.” I hurried outside.
What the hell?
So, Hensley and Brody were officially not an item, I supposed as I sipped my vodka cranberry and tried to process the fact that my mom had a boyfriend who was about my age.
My nose tingled, and I sneezed.
“Merrie.” Brody grabbed my arm. “Did I scare you away?”
I took a bite of ham so I wouldn’t have to talk.
“I understand that you’re frightened of being with a virulent, lustful male.”
“Nope, not it.”
“You’re tense,” he said, rubbing my shoulders. “My truck is parked around the corner. We could go hook up in it. I could relieve you of your stress.”
“I’m actually going to another event after this,” I lied. “My friend is picking me up.”
“Too bad,” Brody said, “Your mom liked it when we made love in my pickup truck.”
“What the fuck?” I couldn’t even push him off because my hands were filled with the heaping plate of food and my drink.
Brody lowered his voice. “I do amazing things with my tongue. Can I tempt you? Are you shivering from the cold or the anticipation?”
The wind whipped up, and Brody held up a hand to block his face as a frigid blast hit us.
I closed my eyes against the pricks of ice.
“I hope this man isn’t bothering you.”
I opened my eyes. There stood Matt, silhouetted against the streetlight. He appeared like a winter spirit.
