Page 64 of Hades

“No, because knowing my luck, I would have to go with you, and I am not going back to that city.” Hades pretends to shudder.

“You’re ridiculous,” I say as I roll my eyes at his theatrics.

I look over at Mom and see that she’s got a soft smile.

“You two are adorable,” Mom muses.

“Mom, I am not adorable. Adorable is for small children. I am clearly not a little one,” Hades says solemnly.

Once again, my mom tips her head back and laughs as she rests her hand on his arm. Only when she’s got herself under control does she speak. “You’re right, Hades, you aren’t a child. Far from it.”

I groan at my mom’s words.

“Damn right.”

He looks over at me, and I feel my cheeks heat.

No, nothing about the man is childish, with the exception of maybe the way he likes to get under my skin.

“So, Hades, how has living with my daughter been?” Mom asks.

“Hell. Absolute hell,” he says without skipping a beat.

“Hey!” I protest, tossing a chip at him.

“She’s very particular about her space, loves to take all of the hot water, and I swear she’s been using my hair products,” he continues.

“I would never!”

Mom nods, ignoring me completely. “You do have very nice hair. Is she using just your shampoo and conditioner or your curly hair products as well?”

He shakes his head. “Just the shampoo and conditioner, thankfully.”

“Okay, that’s it. You two can’t hang out if you are going to gang up on me.”

“Princess, I’m not going to lie to your mom when she asks a question,” he says, looking right at me.

“I hate you,” I tell him with no heat.

“Are you sure about that?” He smirks, making me roll my eyes. “Besides, I said living with you is like hell. Well, Princess, they don’t call me Hades for nothing.”

My belly warms at his insinuation that he enjoys living in hell. He enjoys living here.

His phone vibrates, and he winces.

“Go ahead, dear. If that’s my son, tell him hello,” Mom says.

Hades nods and stands. Mom waits until he leaves the room before she speaks.

“He’s good for you.”

I rub my hand over my face. “It’s not like that between us.”

“But it could be. The way that man looks at you…and honey, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you smile as much as I have tonight. That man, as much as he might drive you crazy, makes you happy.”

“He’s a brother. A nomad,” I say quietly.

Mom shakes her head. “He was a nomad, but isn’t anymore. He’s set down roots here. Yes, he’s a brother, but that’s not a bad thing. You know that.”