Page 86 of Driven Daddy

“No-ish.”

She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not good for you.”

“Neither is chocolate, and you live for it.”

“Which is why I do an hour of yoga every day.” She held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Masterson.”

“Hank.” He shook her hand. “So, you’re the writer that has everyone in a tizzy.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “I am?”

“Yes. My wife can’t stop talking about you with her friends. They’ve been chattering away on the phone with her all week. She’s going to lose it when you go inside.”

“Oh.” She tried to twist her fingers out of mine again and my dad glanced down then to me with a grin.

Well, I did bring this on myself, but I didn’t let her hand go.

“I’m going to break your drawing thumb in a minute if you don’t let go,” she whispered out of the side of her mouth.

“Spicy Rita is back.” I brought our joined hands up to kiss hers. “I’m not letting go,” I murmured.

Her brows knitted together, and those huge green eyes were wary.

My dad cleared his throat. “Will you stay for dinner, Rita?”

“That’s the plan.” I nipped the side of her hand before lowering our hands. “I hope Ma made enough.”

“She makes enough for the whole block.” He opened a drawer and sprayed something in his mouth, and then he sprayed an air freshener around him.

My mother would definitely figure out he was smoking, and I’d probably be in trouble even though I hadn’t actually stolen one from my pack in days. However, I wasn’t sure there would be any left since my dad was a sneaky son of a bitch when it came to them.

“Well, c’mon in. My Jo is gonna freak.” He rubbed his hands.

“If you’re sure.” Rita smiled.

“Absolutely. We’ll just get another plate out for you. Larsen is over at the rental if you’re looking for him. Said he’d be around if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Pop.”

We followed him into the house from the garage and the punch of garlic made my stomach growl. Rita finally gave up on the tug of war as I let her go in ahead of me. She stalled before we got through the mud room to the kitchen. I peered around her to make sure the kids weren’t at the house.

The rampant children could make anyone run screaming when they were in a mood.

But no, there was only the kitchen peninsula full of drawings, mail, and stacked dishes. The dining area was right off the kitchen with the massive, scarred oak table, freshly wiped down. There was a hint of oranges to the room which meant my mother had gone on one of her cleaning binges. Sure enough, the wood floor gleamed from a fresh scrub.

The living room was tidy, no hint of the kid clutter that seemed to take over the house when my mom was tapped for babysitting. In fact, I could see the vacuum patterns on the sofa from here. My dad was already stationed in his chair with baseball on the wide screen television.

Hopefully, I hadn’t pissed my mom off into commencing a cleaning frenzy. She usually only went big on the cleaning when there was company or a full head of JoAnn steam. “Ma?”

“Penn?” My mom peeked from the kitchen. “Oh. You didn’t tell me we were having visitors.” She gave me a hard look. “Good thing I cleaned today.” She wiped her hands on a towel and tucked it into her apron as she came into the dining room. Her eyes widened as she untied her sauce-splattered apron and pulled it over her head. “Penn Bartholomew Masterson, you did not bring a famous author into my house without warning me!”

“Bartholomew?” Rita pressed her lips together against a laugh.

“Ma!”

She set the apron on the counter and tucked her gray-streaked chestnut hair around her ear, then she pulled her sweater down. “What? It’s your name, isn’t it? And this definitely deserved your full government name, young man.”

Forty was coming at me in a few short years and yet, my mother could make me feel like I was fourteen years old again. “Sorry.” I tugged Rita forward and dropped a kiss on my mother’s soft cheek. The familiar scent of Vanilla Fieldsand spices eased a few of the raw edges from the day. “JoAnn Masterson, meet Rita Savage.”

---