Page 86 of Mensa's Match

“You’d say that regardless.”

“Probably, but you have to admit, you’re the one putting pressure on here. My mom could care less if you show up wearing a burlap sack or an evening gown. She’s heard I’m serious about someone, and she just wants to meet you.”

She leaned back and pulled her hand from his forearm. “Oh, shit. I don’t know what I’m gonna wear!”

He dipped his chin. “Are you fucking with me right now? Didn’t you hear what I said? She won’t care, Whit. Meeting you is the goal and you’re putting too much emphasis on a meal.”

Her expression cleared, and he thought her freak-out had passed.

He thought wrong.

“You only get one first impression, Ragstone. I need to make this count.”

Nothing for it. He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her lips to his. Once he felt her relax into his hold, he broke the kiss.

He waited until she opened her eyes before he spoke. “You don’t need to do shit, babe. Nadia’s shop is closed today. Want to hit the beach?”

Her eyes skated toward a stack of boxes. “No. I need to unpack at least half a dozen more boxes. Besides, it’s supposed to rain this afternoon.”

He nodded. “You want my help with that, or would you rather me get out of your hair?”

She paused. “It’s up to you. If you leave me alone, I’ll probably go shopping for something to wear. If you stay, you’ll probably be bored to tears while I unpack shit… fair warning, I’m a bit of control freak about where things go.”

That made him grin. “You think a toddler’s gonna give a shit about your need to control where shit goes?”

She narrowed one eye at him. “You’re not a toddler.”

He leaned toward her. “No, but you said your clock is ticking. We love each other… if we’re really doing this, you need to start thinking about how our first kid is gonna rock your world.”

After a long blink, she leaned back, turned her head to the side, and then back to him. “I’m pretty sureyoujust rocked my world plenty, since I haven’t even met your parents yet.”

“Not trying to rock your world, trying to get you to loosen up, babe. Let me help you unpack. You don’t like where I put your LeCrusette, you can move it.”

That got both eyes narrowed at him. “I knew you judged my cookware back in Jackson.”

He slid off his stool and grabbed both their plates. “I’d never judge you about that. Let’s get this shit done. Then if it isn’t raining, maybe we’ll hit the beach after all.”

Whitney wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “There isn’t enough time for us to hit the beach, and for me to get ready for meeting your parents.”

He broke down the last cardboard box he’d emptied. “It’s just dinner, babe. What you wear won’t matter.”

She shook her head. “Nope. It matters. Either way, it takes like twenty minutes to get to the beach from here, then you gotta find parking…we’d have to come back after like ten minutes.”

He gave her a curt nod. “You’re right. Let’s hit the complex pool instead. We can swim for an hour, and the bonus is, we can shower together when we’re done.”

“Any other time that would be a selling point, but I need to figure out what I’m wearing.”

“That red shirt you wore to karaoke would work.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you crazy? I can’t possibly wear that! It’s obvious that’s for hitting a bar. Your beloved family home isnotthe place for that top and those jeans.”

He fought off a chuckle. “Go put your bikini on, Blume.”

She shot him a pointed look. “It’s a one-piece. What about you? Do you have swim trunks here? You can’t skinny-dip in that pool.”

Battle lost, his head tilted back with laughter. When he got control of himself, Whitney only appeared half-amused.

“I was being serious.”

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