Page 13 of Riding Dirty for Christmas

She beams at the word 'perfect,' missing my sarcasm entirely. “I just want tonight to go well. It means so much to have everyone together, especially with the wedding so close?—”

The doorbell chimes and Mom practically levitates. “They're here!”

My stomach clenches. Time to meet the man who somehow convinced my marriage-cynical mother that a Christmas wedding was a brilliant idea.

If he's playing her, I'll find out. I didn't take two weeks off during peak season just to watch Mom get her heart broken again.

“How do I look?” She smooths her dress for the tenth time.

Like a woman in love. The thought hits me like a sucker punch. “Beautiful, Mom.”

I trail behind her to the door, mental checklist ready. Suspicious business practices? Hidden debts? There has to be something?—

The door swings open and my prepared interrogation falters. Robert stands there beaming, arms full of gifts—wildflowers and wine for Mom, a box of what looks like expensive chocolates.

No slick charm or fake smile. Just warm eyes and a genuineness that's hard to fake, even in his ridiculous light-up reindeer sweater.

“Cat!” He somehow manages to hug Mom despite his full arms, then turns that megawatt smile on me. Before I can step back, he wraps me in a warm embrace. “Eden! Finally!”

I stiffen, caught between basic politeness and the urge to maintain distance. What was I expecting exactly? Some mustache-twirling villain straight out of a Scooby-Doo holiday special?

“Eden, you're even lovelier than your mother described,” Robert says, his voice thick with emotion. “Cat, can you believe it? At the tender age of fifty-eight, I'm blessed with two beautiful kids.” He beams between us. “I can't wait to be your father?—”

Whoa.Let's take a little breather. “Would you like some wine?” I blurt, retreating toward the kitchen.

I busy myself with uncorking a bottle while Mom and Robert settle at the dining room table. The clink of glasses and Mom's delighted laughter float through the doorway as I arrange appetizers on a tray.

When I return, the way Robert looks at my mother—like she hung the moon—makes my throat tight. He notices Mom's newearrings, compliments her dress, even remembers details about her yoga instructor's dog from weeks ago.

My certainty wavers. I came armed for battle against a con man, but Robert's genuine affection is proving to be a more formidable opponent.

The way Mom glows under his attention, how carefully he handles her heart?—

“Eden, thank you so much for being here,” Mom says, squeezing Robert's hand. “This means so much to Robert. He only discovered he had an adult son a few years ago. He didn't even know he was a father, and now he's loving it.”

“My son's finishing up at work,” Robert explains, checking his phone. “He texted that things are wrapping up at the bar and he'll be here shortly.”

Something weird slithers in my belly. “Where did you say your son worked again?”

The doorbell chimes.

Mom jumps up to answer it. “Eden, come meet your stepbrother!”

I set down my wine glass and prepare to meet another too-good-to-be-true member of this perfect family.

From the foyer, I hear her excited voice: “Let me take your helmet and jacket!”

A deep, familiar chuckle sends electricity down my spine. “Thanks, Caterina. Sorry I'm late—busy night at the bar.”

“When are you taking me for that ride you promised?” Mom asks. “I've never been on a motorcycle before.”

“Haven't forgotten,” that voice replies—the same voice that had whispered against my neck two nights ago. The hickey throbs like a guilty conscience. “But between the weather and the holiday rush at The HideOut?—”

“Eden,” Mom beams, oblivious to the sudden tension crackling through the air, “this is Jack. Jack, my daughter Eden.”

The world stops.

Standing in my mother's entryway is six-foot-two of pure trouble—familiar blue-gray eyes, messy dark hair, and that damn crooked smile that had me pressed against a storage room wall two nights ago.

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