Page 87 of Unstoppable Love

“He’s a bossy jerk,” I told my mom, glaring at him. “And if you’re in the kitchen, you know the rules. You have to help.”

“That’s why I stopped in the doorway.” He gestured to his feet, right at the line. He and Isaiah had been busted more often than not as they hovered in the kitchen. Of course, he knew where the line was. “Besides, I’m on a beer run for your dad.”

“Here you go, kiddo,” my mom said, and I had to fight down a laugh. What was with everyone calling this mountain of a man a boy and kiddo like he was a toddler? She handed a bottle of beer to Cameron.

He took it from her and risked the kitchen to come straight to me. “Your dad did ask for that beer, but I would have come anyway, seeing as how I somehow can’t stay away from you for too long.” He kissed my lips that had parted in surprise, flashed me a wink, and left the kitchen, leaving me staring after me.

My mom, with her back to me at the stove, gleefully said, “Seems to me you like the bossy jerk. And trust me, a little bit of bossiness isn’t too bad.”

“Mom!” I guffawed. She could not be talking to me like this. She never did.

She shrugged and started peeling carrots to add to whatever dish she was making.

Homemade chicken pot pies from the looks of the ingredients stacked to her side.

“You’re old enough to handle it,” she teased right back.

Good grief.

Cameron walked into my home, and my mom became a different kind of woman.

Like mother, like daughter, I suppose.

My mom went all out for dinner like Cameron being there for dinner with me was a special occasion. We forewent the casual seating in the kitchen’s breakfast nook, and the formal dining room table was set like it was a Christmas family dinner.

My mom’s homemade butter, along with her sourdough bread, was sliced and set out on each side of the table that could seat up to ten with all the leaves in, but was currently smaller, with a leaf missing, and set for five. A tablecloth, placemats, and charger plates, along with two squat, square vases filled with zinnias from her gardens, decorated the table as centerpieces.

I couldn’t remember a time outside of a holiday when they’d ever put this much effort into a meal, including the first time I brought Kip home with me. It was as irritating as it was endearing, seeing the effort my parents were making for Cameron.

Part of me figured Mom was trying to make a point, not only to him but to everyone. Cameron was there with me, not showing up as Isaiah’s friend, and as that thought hit, the irritation melted away.

“Gorgeous table, Mom,” I said, kissing her cheek as she walked past me to the head of the table.

Dad always sat her there while he took the foot instead of proper manners dictating the other way around. “She’s the queen, and we wouldn’t eat this fabulousness without her, so she gets the honored spot to enjoy the fruits of her labor,” was his response the day I learned about etiquette and questioned it.

She trailed her hand down my arm and gave my hand a warm squeeze. “Special night for everyone,” she replied.

I sniffed back tears at her thoughtfulness and my ability to finally see it and looked to Cameron, who was preparing to take the seat on my left while Dad finished bringing the hot food to the table, setting it out on the crocheted hot pads that had been a part of our dinners since I could walk.

Cameron dipped his head low to my ear, and I had to fight a shiver as his warm breath cascaded over me. “Seems to me you’re the only one thinking this is weird and not special.”

I glared up at him and rolled my eyes. “I’m getting it now, okay?”

“Good.” He settled his hand at my lower back and pulled out my chair. Once I was seated, he guided me into the table and then waited for my mom to take her seat before taking his.

Small town boy he was, with manners to boot.

Manners that went out the door when we were alone, which frankly, I wasn’t complaining about. Not in the slightest.

As soon as we were seated, the door opened, and Isaiah’s voice boomed from the front hall. “Have I missed all the fun?”

“We’re in here, honey!” my mom called. “And perfect timing!”

Hardly. I was looking at Cameron, who was grinning at me, like he knew something was going to come from my idiot brother’s mouth.

“Dang! Nice spread, Mom. Must be somethin’ special happening tonight, huh?” He paused behind his chair and rubbed his scruff-covered chin. “Hm. Wonder what that is?”

His chair slid out and slammed into his hips. “Sit down and be smart,” Cameron said.

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