I had my doubts. Still, as I perched on the edge of Finn’s sofa, I waited as patiently as possible.
Last night, after the hug—which had been a little epic—I’d followed Finn home. To make certain he got here safely. He’d been wrecked.
Only he’d invited me in.
And we’d made love. No fucking into the mattress. Just…slow lovemaking. And he’d fallen into a deep sleep. I hadn’t been able to find it in myself to leave. So, I hadn’t. Today, while he’d been cooking, I’d chased down two damn leads that led nowhere and I was no closer to solving the mystery. I’d run home to grab a fresh shirt. He ribbed me for beingso gussied up. In truth, I couldn’t remember ever dressingup for him.I need to do better. I needed to show him how much he was coming to mean to me. A thought I wasn’t willing to examine too closely as his mother was due any moment.
Headlights cut across the front window.
“Good timing on Mom’s part, but I have to pull the lasagna out of the oven.”
“Oh, let me do that. I’m sure your mother would prefer to be greeted—”
“Go let her in, Ulysses. Don’t make Mom wait.” He opened the oven.
I hustled over to the front door and opened it.
The woman before me wasn’t quite who I expected. Sure, Finn had photos of the two of them—but I’d never studied them carefully. I certainly had never noticed how short she was. Especially in comparison to her rather tall son.
“Hello Mrs. O’Sullivan. Lovely to meet you.” I offered my biggest grin.
“It’s Ms. O’Sullivan. I never married Finnegan’s scoundrel sperm donor.” She eyed me. “You may call me Valerie.”
“Okay.” I sounded the word quietly.
She grinned. “And you’re Ulysses.”
“Yes, ma’am…Valerie.” I cringed.
“You’ll do.” She handed me a pie plate. “Blueberry—Finn’s second favorite. I was going to bring lemon meringue, but the berry crop this year was a good one. I hope you like it as well.” She also had a salad container.
“I love blueberries.”
“These were fresh from the summer’s bumper crop. Now, let’s go see what my son’s been up to while we’ve been out here introducingourselves.” The curvy redhead, who was barely five feet tall, swept past me and into the house.
Obediently, I followed.
She’d shucked her shoes and was already in the kitchen hugging her son by the time I closed the front door.
“Lasagna?” She sniffed.
“Yep.” Finn beamed.
“From scratch?”
“Yep. With extra cottage cheese for you.”
“Oh, lovely. And I brought blueberry pie.” She gestured for me to move into the kitchen—which I did. “As well as the salad I promised.”
Finn took the pie and put it on the counter. “You ready to eat? We can have the Caesar salad while the lasagna cools a little.”
“Sounds lovely.” Valerie turned to me. “I’m wanting to hear all about how you two met.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. I was grateful my dark skin hid what would’ve been, I was certain, an epic blush.
“Mom.” Finn used his best chastising voice.
“What?” She batted her eyelashes. “I want to hear about the man who’s stolen my son’s heart.”
