I brace instinctively, waiting for it—the sneezing, the watery eyes, the inevitable reaction. But, nothing happens. No sniffle. No flinch. Just silence.
I tilt my head, studying her. “I thought you were allergic?”
Something shifts—just for a second—before she smooths it over. And suddenly, maybe I’m not the only one with something to hide.
She turns to me, a faint pink hue brushing her cheeks, eyes wide. “I…uh…”
“Allergy pills,” Grant supplies casually. “They work wonders. But she couldn’t stay on them forever, which is why we had to rehome Marbles.”
I freeze mid-thought, and a creeping suspicion snakes through me. Something feels…off. That’s when it hits me.
Oh my God. Did they set this all up?
A scheme. A plan. A covert operation designed to shove Tuck and me together under one roof, with Mom and Grant acting as co-conspirators. No, no, that can’t be right. My mother is not devious. Never has been.
Grant, however…
Grant has been known to meddle.
Tuck steps up, breaking my train of thought. He hands Mom a glass of wine, then offers one to me. My fingers brush his just a little longer than necessary. I steal a glance at Mom over the rim of my glass, suspicious now of her motives, her sly smile, her perfectly timed allergies.
“Oh, I thought I was going to sneeze there for a second.” She dabs delicately at her nose, the picture of innocence. “But no, the medication really is working wonders.”
“Sorry, Grandma. I’ll put Marbles back in the bedroom.” Josh begins to move.
“No need, Josh,” she waves him off. “I think I’m fine now.”
I exchange a look with Tuck, and his raised eyebrow matches my suspicion perfectly. I make a mental note to have a private chat with Mom later, after the boys are asleep.
Meanwhile, Tuck pops the tops off two beers, handing one to Grant. “You ready for the game on Tuesday?” Grant asks, and as the men launch into hockey chatter, I round up the boys. “Let’s set up in the dining room,” I instruct.
Honestly, it feels a little surreal, taking over Tuck’s house like this. But with six of us for dinner, we don’t want to be crammed around his small kitchen table.
The boys scuttle off, and I gesture toward the fridge. “Mom, can you grab the butter?”
She hums, opening the fridge, and her laughter spills out. “Wow,” she says, eyes sparkling as she surveys the kitchen. “Tuck is really stocked up for a bachelor.” She shoots me a teasing glance. “How long have you been staying here?”
“Not long,” I answer smoothly, reaching for a knife to slice the butter. “We just want to make sure Marbles gets settled, and we come when Tuck’s on the road. Only temporary. We’ll take Marbles back once I get a bigger place.”
I add a generous dollop of butter to the mashed potatoes, trying to appear perfectly casual. But I’m not sure I’m pulling it off, judging by the way she’s still grinning at me.
“How did your date with Declan go?”
My hand freezes on the knife. “How…how did you know about that?”
She smirks knowingly, and I already know the answer. Nothing stays secret in this hockey family. Not about the boys, not about the house, not about Tuck…certainly not about me.
“He was nice,” I admit cautiously. “But with school, the boys, and work…I just don’t have time for a relationship. I thought I did, but I was wrong.”
She arches one eyebrow, lips curling. “Right. But you do have time for sex.”
Oh. My. Freaking. God.
“Mom—” I gulp, heat rising to my cheeks.
She picks up the potato masher as if she hadn’t just casually mentioned my sex life. “These need a little more butter,” she says, pressing down on the potatoes, eyes twinkling at me. “Are you okay?”
I stare, mouth slightly open. “You just said?—”
