Page 58 of The Gathering Storm

Good. She needed to know he wasn’t going to give in to her just because she didn’t like the direction his heart leaned. Let her fuss. As long as he had Sigrid, he’d do what he damn well pleased.

Lunch went much more smoothly than Will could’ve hoped. His mother relented enough to indulge in a light spate of gossip with Sigrid about her and Troy’s recent travels, some near other centers of the People. Will spoke only when he had to. Sometimes it paid to observe and listen, a trait he’d learned when he first started tending bar. No one among the People ever said exactly what they meant unless pushed, and this conversation was no different. Beneath the surface, his mom and Sigrid were testing each other, politely probing boundaries and stratagem.

Troy caught Will’s gaze near the end of the meal and nodded subtly toward the living room, and Will nearly shouted his relief. Thank the Great Mother for college football.

Not long after, his mother set aside her napkin. “I believe we have some business to attend.”

Will pushed back his chair and stood. “Dad and I can clear the table while y’all talk.”

Sigrid arched an eyebrow at him. “You would willingly miss negotiating your own future?”

“It’s not like you’re drawing up a contract today.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss across her cheek. “Besides, there’s a game on.”

She gifted him with a faint smile. “How did men ever survive without modern sports?”

“Pillaging,” he said firmly, then lowered his voice and whispered against her ear, “Stop worrying so much. Everything’s going to be fine.”

He pulled away before she could speak and leveled a stern stare on his mother. “Behave.”

She tilted her chin to a regal angle. “I always do.”

Troy coughed into his fist, barely hiding a laugh as Sigrid rose.

“We shan’t be long,” she said, then led his mother out of the dining room toward her office.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Troy said, “So she’s the one, huh?”

Will scowled down at the china he was stacking. “Who said that?”

“You do, every time you look at her. I know that look, son. See it in the mirror every time I think about your mom.”

Will glanced up. “Is it that obvious?”

“To me, yeah. To your mom?” Troy shrugged and lifted a stack of dirty plates. “She’s blind where her beloved son is concerned.”

“She needs to back off,” Will gritted out.

“And let you decide on your own? When did a Daughter ever do that?”

Some of his frustration bled away under his dad’s amusement. “You’ve got a point.”

“She’ll come around. You’ll see.”

That’s what he was worried about, that she’d come around after it was too late to do him any good. Sigrid was right. If he wasn’t careful, his relationship with her could drive a wedge between him and his mother, especially if Chana won and Will opted to pay the requisite fines rather than honor the challenge’s outcome.

Chana seemed nice enough, but no way in Hell was he stupid enough to tie himself to a stranger. At least he knew Sigrid well enough to trust her.

He stopped stock still in the middle of pushing open the kitchen door and his eyes slid closed. Fuck, how had that happened? Trust was only a tiny, fragile step away from love, and he wasn’t ready yet, wasn’t ready to tumble head over heels for a woman he wasn’t certain could ever love him. Ok, so she was getting there quicker than he would’ve thought, but there was no guarantee she wouldn’t turn tail and run. It wouldn’t be the first time a Daughter abandoned a man rather than succumb to her tender heart. Probably wouldn’t be the last either.

He continued on into the kitchen and shooed his dad into the living room to find a game, then cleaned up while he tried to talk some sense into his own too tender heart.

Sigrid closed her office door, shutting out the men’s voices echoing faintly through the house. She turned toward Will’s mother and gestured toward the sitting area occupying one corner of the room. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you.” Wilhelmina perched on the edge of an overstuffed leather armchair the color of warm chocolate. “You’re sleeping with my son.”

Sigrid refused to let the sharp remark rankle. She took the chair opposite her oldest friend’s daughter without a single hesitation in her actions. “He and I have a deepening relationship, yes.”

“You’re fucking him,” Wilhelmina said bluntly. “Did you seduce him before or after approaching my mother for the right to court him?”

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