Page 84 of Sweet Like Whiskey

“You know Ash and I are a thing,” I point out.

“Athing,” she says with a scoff. “No, I certainly did not know that. Ipresumedas much, just from looking at you. I certainly knew you were doing…the horizontal hokey-pokey. But not once did you speak the wordboyfriend.”

I catch Ash’s amused expression over my mom’s shoulder, his head poking out of the dining room. Belatedly, I realize it’s rather quiet inside the house, which tells me all I need to know. The simple truth that, now,everybodyknows.

It’s enough to distract me from the fact that my mom just uttered the wordshorizontal hokey-pokey. I suppress a shiver.

“Well,” I say, refocusing on my mother, “now you’re aware. So…good?”

Her tone is wry when she says, “‘Good,’ he asks. No, we are notgood. What are your intentions with Ashley Alcott?”

“Oh, Jesus,” I mutter, scrubbing my face. “Really, Ma? Shouldn’t you be askinghimthat aboutme?”

“Nope. Because I know that boy has good intentions sprouting outta his ass.”

“Out of his—”

“You’rethe one I’m worried about,” she says. “Don’t you go hurting that man, Jackson Darling.”

I sputter. “Me? Why would I?”

“’Cause you got hurt first. And we all know what hurt animals do in the face of repeated threat of injury.”

Lash out.

“I won’t,” I tell her, getting frustrated. Ash had the good grace to return to the dining room, although I know it doesn’t matter. He can hear just fine either way. Well, better set the record straight then. Forbothof them. “I have no damn intention of hurting that man. He’s the purest thing to come into my life in who knows how goddamn long. And the fact that you think I’m evencapableof it—”

My words come to an abrupt halt as I register what my mom just pulled. Because she would never truly accuse me of being careless with his feelings. And I didn’t realize it until far too late.

“Are you happy with yourself?” I ask her.

She’s smiling at me now. “Quite. You have a tendency to keep your thoughts balled up tight, Jackson dear. And I didn’t want him missing the obvious. Or you,” she adds gently.

“If I could,” I tell her evenly, “I’d file for emancipation.”

“You’refartoo old,” she says, a happy lilt to her words as she heads for the dining room. “Now what’s for dinner?”

Maybe I could move.

My dad sighs, and I jolt, not having heard him come in the front door. “You’ll never win against that woman,” he says, walking past. “I wouldn’t suggest trying.”

“You’re an enabler,” I call after him.

He waves a hand over his shoulder.

As I’m standing in the hallway, debating whether or not I even need to eat tonight, Ash reappears. He has two plates in his hand.

“What are you—”

“Come on,” he whispers, heading for the door. “We’re running.”

I snort, my insides leaping at the sight of Ash’s mischievous grin.

Fuck, am I in deep.

I haul ass, opening the door for Ash to pass through. Without looking back, we walk down the drive to my place. I grab two beers once we get there, and then we settle out back on the Adirondack chairs surrounding the fire pit, our bottles leaving pools of moisture on our armrests as we eat. Every once in a while, Ash’s knee brushes my own.

“She’s evil,” he says some time later. “Brilliant and evil.”

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