“Leave it alone, Ma,” Brek said on a growl.
“A mother’s got a right to want her son happy, hasn’t she?” Pam raised her eyebrows, practically daring him to contradict.
“I’m happy.” Brek grinned. “See?” He pointed at his smile.
Pam smacked her palms together and ignored him. “I love a good challenge, Velma. Come to some of my mixers, fill out the paperwork, and I’ll see what I can come up with. It’s the least I can do since you’re taking care of my son.”
“Mixers?” Velma asked.
“Get-together events for singles. I screen everyone beforehand and make sure there’s a possibility of a match. Then you meet men and see if there’s chemistry—”
“Without having to wonder if he’s a serial killer,” Brek finished for her.
Pam glared at her son.
Velma agreed with Brek. Serial killer status was good information to have on a potential match.
He shrugged. “It’s the truth. Ma screens out all the serial killers and felons.”
“Actually, I have a couple of nice girls I’d likeyouto meet, Brek.” Pam rummaged through her purse and retrieved a cell phone in a sleek black case. She swiped at the screen and held it up to her son.
“I don’t want to meet nice girls. Thanks, though.” He didn’t even glance at the screen. “Don’t try to match me. I’m not staying in Denver.”
“Matching people is what I do. And you, Son, need a match.” She thumbed through more photos and raised another at him.
He continued to ignore her phone, turning instead to Velma. “Ma’s on a tear about finding me a wife.”
“Sweetheart, you’re over thirty,” Pam said. “The time has come.”
“What’s wrong with a wife?” Velma asked. Falling in love, marriage, family—it’d be wonderful.
“What’s right with one? That’s the real question.”
“I’ll crack him yet. We just haven’t found the right woman.” Pam slipped her phone back into her purse. “It’ll happen. Maybe you could bring Velma to the mixers?”
“No.” Brek tossed his plate into the sink.
Velma cleared her throat. He got the message and rinsed the plate off before putting it in the dishwasher.
“Ma, what ideas do you have for a ‘Purple Rain’ wedding theme? I don’t want to bug Aspen, but I’m coming up empty. So far all I’ve got is lighting the ceremony with black lights.”
Whatever the question, when it came to weddings, black lights were never the answer.
“Oh, don’t do that,” Velma replied. “Some clothes become see-through under black light.”
“Like I said, I figure I’ll start with a black light. Any other ideas?”
He grinned his darn half smile. Her body responded with ridiculous tingles.
“What if you had Jase hang purple tulips from the ceiling of the church, so it looks like it’s raining flowers? You could do that all the way down the aisle.” Velma abandoned her breakfast. She dipped her metal tea diffuser in and out of her cup, studying the tea leaves in the bottom. “And at the reception you could use purple candles and those big vase things, fill them with water, and dye the water with food coloring.”
“Perhaps you should write this down.” Pam raised her eyebrows at Brek.
He cocked his head at Velma. “What else you got in that noggin’ of yours?
“What about a grape juice fountain?” Brainstorming was kind of fun.
“Um.” Pam squinted toward Velma.
