Page 43 of Lace 'em Up

My mom is good at making anyone comfortable, and Rory is a nice person with a big heart. It’s no surprise that they hit it off. Probably because my mom raved about her cookies, but also because my mom ultimately wants me to be happy, so she would give any woman in my life the benefit of the doubt before forming her own opinion.

Not that her opinion took long to form.

Case in point?

“I love her,” my mom whispers in my ear, all but bouncing in her seat.

I glance up at Rory, who’s carefully folding her napkin, and know it would be far too easy to love this woman.

And…I’m tap-dancing in dangerous territory now.

“How was your nap?” I ask, trying to divert her. And myself.

Not a shock.

It doesn’t work.

For either of us.

My gaze is drawn back across the table.

Her grin is wide.

And knowing.

Christ.

I go for diversion again. “Mom?”

Her brows come up.

“I asked how your nap was?”

She studies me, and I brace, waiting for her to say something else about Rory.

She doesn’t. “Fine.”

But my relief only lasts a second.

Because then she’s back to the shiner I’m sporting from practice.

“Why the black eye?” Her eyes pin me in place. “I know it wasn’t from your last game.”

Always with her finger on the pulse.

Always watching each of our games.

I sigh, know it’s pointless to try to keep the truth from her. “I lost my temper and punched Pat.”

Those brows rise higher. “King,” she begins, “how often have I said that violence isn’t the?—”

“I bet he deserved it,” Rory mutters.

I freeze with my fork halfway to my mouth, reeling from the whiplash of disapproval to pleased, Mom to Rory.

“Explain,” my mom demands.

“Pat is a total jerk,” Rory says, bailing me out. “He’s been actively trying to cause drama with the team.”

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