Page 49

I jump in before she can say more. “Oh, no. We wouldn’t want to impose on your family time.”

“If it was an imposition, I wouldn’t have invited you.” He smirks like he’s waiting for my next excuse.

I have nothing. I don’t even know what I’m feeding my family tonight, or how everyone will fit inside my apartment. Colby’s house is probably huge, and likely filled with food.

He studies me, most likely seeing the indecision playing across my face. He leans in, lowering his voice, and says, “Meeting the parents is something you need to learn. You know, for your lessons.”

I’m glad he didn’t say that loudly enough for my sister to hear, but she’s studying us with interest. Those little sister eyes are alight with intuition, or so she thinks. Because there’s nothing going on between me and Colby. But he’s right, practicing meeting a man’s parents would put my mind at ease for the future. “Let me check with Mom and Dad.”

“And Gram,” he says seriously. “Gram has to come too.”

CHAPTER 17

COLBY

I check my watch for the twelfth time in a two-minute time span, waiting for Noel and her family to arrive. I’m more nervous to show Noel my house and spend time with her parents than I’ve ever been before a big game.

On the drive back home after the fantasy convention, the thought popped into my head that Noel isn’t the one who needs practice meeting the parents… I am. I’ve dated, philandered, whatever you want to call it. And I’ve unintentionally made a lot of women fall in love with me (or lust, perhaps) but I’ve never, ever, met the parents of a woman I had romantic feelings for.

I have no idea if parents like me, and I’m thinking they probably won’t. My reputation isn’t what parents want for their intelligent, wholesome daughters. They likely won’t trust me. And my own father is here with his ridiculously young girlfriend, will they think that’ll be me in twenty years?

None of this makes me look like marriage material. And for Dr. Noel Woodcock, I want to be marriage material. I want her parents to adore me. I want them to go home tonight and say, “Noel, why don’t you marry that wonderful young man? What a great guy!”

But they’ll likely warn her away from me instead. Which probably explains why I’m pacing by my front door and my palms are damp.

Finally, I see two cars pull up, Noel’s, and presumably, Gram’s. Her family pours out of the vehicles, and I open my front door to greet them before they even knock, because I have zero chill with this girl.

Gram walks up the walkway ahead of the others, despite her son trying to hold her arm and help her. She tugs her arm away and gives him an annoyed stare.

I welcome Gram, Noel’s parents, and Helen, holding the front door so they can come in. They all say sweet things about how gorgeous, and huge, my house is. But it’s not their opinions and compliments I’m looking for.

Noel is the last one to trail through the front door. She’s abnormally quiet, even wringing her hands together like she’s nervous.

“Hey, angel. Thanks for coming.” I give her a smile that I’m hoping will put her at ease and take away whatever nerves she might be experiencing.

She glances up at me with those golden-brown eyes, exhaling a shallow breath. “Thanks for inviting us to your bachelor pad.”

“Ah, there she is with the snark. I knew she was in there somewhere behind this shy façade.”

She laughs then lowers her voice. “Listen, Colby. My parents are dorky, I love them and I’m not ashamed of them. But they’re not like your parents, trust me. They don’t swear, they don’t drink, they don’t even watch movies that have language in them.”

“Well, son of a biscuit. How will I ever behave myself?”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile there too. “I’m serious. I’m not sure why, but I don’t want them to hate you. I guess you’re my—”

I lean in, taunting her. “Your what? Come on, you can say it.”

“Friend,” she says with a groan.

Even though I hate that she’s referring to me as a friend, I can still relish in the progress we’ve made. I’ll take it, and I’ll focus on that instead of the fact that she thinks her super-conservative parents won’t like me.

Damn it. I mean, darn it.

“So, your parents have never even watched a Marvel movie?” I ask in a hushed whisper as I lead her inside.

“Nope. We grew up watching old BBC shows and historical documentaries.”

“Wow. That explains why you’re such a nerd.”