When she’d admitted to me on the ride over that she was in a hurry to get home to prepare for her upcoming twelve-hour workday, I hoped that was reason enough to keep her from rendezvousing with the parasitic Perry clan. Sure, I’d told Emma the basics about my family, but even I wasn’t stupid enough to give her the full, unappetizing details. That would just be inviting ridicule. If this weekend was any indication, Emma had the world’s most interesting and engaging family, and mine was sure to terrify incomparison.
Still, I really liked this girl, and if I turned her away now, would she think I was shady? I needed to say something to get her to leave before disaster struck, but in a tone that wouldn’t scare her away. I couldn’t put off discussing the people who’d raised me forever, so I decided that full disclosure was inorder.
“So I know we’ve talked a little about my unconventional family, but I’m not sure if I emphasized strongly enough that I come from a long, proud line of whitetrash.”
She grinned, not seeming in the least bit put off by my admission. That was a good sign. “How trashy are wetalking?”
“Um… Jerry Springerlevel.”
Emma’s captivating eyes shimmered as she cast me an amused sidelong glance. “Exactly how far back does this gloriousbloodlinego?”
“You know the royal family inEngland?”
She nodded, the smile on her facewidening.
“Probablythatfar.”
Scanning her eyes over the deceptively unassuming property, Emma nodded as if she were processing this new piece of informationaboutme.
“Wow, I thought you were just some average guy, but look at you. You’re practicallyroyalty.”
I grinned. She took that well. Normally I didn’t give a crap what people thought, and I’d really never met a woman who had a problem with my rickety heritage – but then, I’d never met anyone like Emma. Something about her made me want to try harder… bebetter.
“So what qualifies as white trash inyourbook?”
“My mother’s sixteen years olderthanme.”
She fixed me with a disapproving stare. “Having a baby young doesn’t qualify as whitetrash.”
“I realize that, but in this unique case, it most certainly does. And I’m definitely not ripping on them, because I can assure you, they wear the badge withpride.”
“Well, in that case,” Emma said, “I guess you’re entitled to label them what you will. So what aboutyourdad?”
I tilted my head and quirked my eyebrows in her direction, attempting to non-verbally communicate to Emma how ridiculous her question really was. “Oh, there are no dads in my story. For a time there, I was hopeful, because Shelby – that’s my mom – had narrowed it down to four guys, but sadly none of thempannedout.”
“Panned out?” she asked, amused. “Your mom was sixteen when she had you. How many guys could she possibly havesleptwith?”
“You’d be surprised, Emma. Shelby was at the top of herclass.”
“You call your momShelby?”
“Her idea. Not mine. Growing up, she didn’t want mecockblockingher.”
“You’re lying,” Emma sputtered, nonplussed. With Shelby, there were plenty of shocking moments, but I’d become so used to them that it surprised me when others reacted strongly. If she stuck with me, I feared there would be a lot of disbelief in Emma’sfuture.
“Honest to god. She thoughtMommade her sound old, so the only time I was allowed to call her that was when the social service worker made her monthly visit or when she was trying to hustle some guy into giving her money by claiming Iwashis.”
“Wow, she sounds… um… enterprising. I can’t wait tomeether.”
“Sure,someday.”
“Why nottoday?”
“I can think of a lot of reasons why not. Besides, meeting Shelby is like an eighth date sort of activity. This curb, right here, this is where wepartways.”
She opened her door stubbornly, and I reached over and closedit. “No.”
Not a chance was Emma walking into the hornet’s nestunannounced.
