Page 53 of Forever Wild

With a final chuckle, he pushes out of the glass door, and I’m struck by just how similar he is to a Bond villain. Does that mean he just revealed an evil plan to me?

Chapter twenty-six

Jameson

I swing open the door to my parents’ house at nine on Thanksgiving morning. Bryn couldn’t catch a flight from California to Ohio after work last night, so she flew in early this morning. I offered to pick her up from the airport, but she insisted on Ubering so I could spend more time with my family.

Seeing her standing there with a bottle of wine in one hand, I’m hit with just how much I’ve missed her. The smile that lights up her face when she sees me makes me think maybe she has missed me too. She looks gorgeous in a sweater dress that hugs her body, emphasizing her athletic figure. A deep V down the middle emphasizes her full chest, and it takes effort to pull my gaze away.

“Hey, B. You look great today.” I pull her into a quick hug complete with a forehead kiss before grabbing the bottle of wine out of her grip and sliding my hand into its place.

She tightens her hold on my hand as I move us toward the sounds of the kitchen. “Thanks for inviting me. I really appreciate it,” she says, though her voice carries a note of worry.

I stop in the hallway just before the kitchen. “Are you okay?”

“Just nervous about meeting your family.”

Pulling her into another hug, I reassure her quietly, “They’re going to love you. Lila already does. She was pumped when I told her you were coming.”

“I just know how much their opinion of me means to you.” She looks up at me, her face creased in concern. “I’m worried I’m going to mess it up. I’m more of an acquired taste for a lot of people.”

“Jameson!” My mother’s voice carries from in the kitchen. “Is that Bryn?”

I give Bryn a playful nudge. “Showtime.”

As we turn the corner to my parents’ kitchen, I watch Bryn take in everything. My mom, wearing a bright red apron over her sweater and dark jeans, measuring ingredients into her big mixer. My dad, dressed in a button-up and jeans, posted up at the end of the long white island, helping skin potatoes. The long dining room table is decorated with a fall-themed tablecloth and a centerpiece of orange and red flowers coming out of a pumpkin.

When I first started winning big in the pros, I tried to buy my parents a new house. They refused. A couple of years later, when I bought my place in Florida, I offered to buy them a second home next to me so we could see each other more. My mom suggested I could fly to Ohio if I wanted to see them more. Then, two Christmases ago, after getting off yet another call with my dad complaining about how long it was taking the plumber to fix yet another broken appliance, I renovated their kitchen for them. Learning from my past mistakes, I had already paid for the kitchen by the time I told them, so there was no way for them to tell me no.

“Mom, Dad, this is Bryn.”

She smiles nervously, giving them a small wave as my dad goes to stand up. “Oh, no need to get up. It’s nice to meet you both.”

My dad, of course, doesn’t listen, and, pulling Bryn into a hug, says, “We are so glad you could make it.”

Mom doesn’t leave whatever she’s mixing but offers Bryn a large, genuine smile instead. “So nice to meet you. We’ve heard a lot about you”—she shoots me a stern look—“from Lila.”

Bryn chuckles as Lila yells from upstairs, “I still maintain you’re way too good for him!” We can hear her feet pound down the steps, and suddenly, she’s in the kitchen too.

“Wow, Lila, you look great. Those boots are…well, let’s just say there’s no chance I would ever be able to walk in those,” Bryn compliments Lila, drawing the rest of our attention to her black dress and some sort of break-your-ankle heeled boots.

Mom, Dad, and I share a confused look before Dad asks, “What are you so dressed up for, sweetheart?”

She looks down at herself, the color rising in her cheeks. “Just didn’t want Bryn to feel overdressed.” We all look at Bryn now, her casual sweater dress and short little boot things. It’s nothing compared to Lila’s outfit.

“Ahh…” Bryn looks between us all. “Well, thanks. That’s super nice of you. I do hate being overdressed. Or underdressed. I basically forced Jameo to show me pictures of all the Thanksgivings he had on his phone so that I could decide what to wear.”

We stand there in awkward silence for a moment before it’s broken up by the doorbell.

“Honey, that should be JT,” my mom says. “Can you go get the door?”

I look at Bryn, unsure if I should leave her alone, but she just smiles, indicating with her head that I should go. As I leave the kitchen, I hear her turn on the sink to wash her hands and then ask my mom, “What can I do to help, Mrs. Walker?”

Pulling open the door for the second time this morning, I smile at my old friend. “Hey, man. How was the flight in?”

“Fucking brutal. Remind me again why we do this in Ohio.” JT rubs his hands together, a California boy through and through.

I grab his jacket, throw it onto the coat rack, and smugly mention, “You know, Bryn didn’t even wear a coat. Some people don’t think midfifties is that cold.”

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