Page 40 of The Kiss Countdown

I grab a top and jeans from my bag, as well as my phone, then go into the tiny bathroom. I turn on the phone’s screen and see a missed call from my mom. I always try to answer or call her back right away, but this call is from four hours ago. My stomach tightens as I worry something might be wrong until I see she also sent a text.

Mom: Everything’s fine, I was just calling to catch up. Your dad and I are on the road again. We’re heading to Yellowstone!

My shoulders relax on a long exhale. I’m relieved to know she’s fine, but now I’m debating whether I should return her call now or later. I don’t want to dodge my parents’ attempts to get ahold of me, but it’s hard to stomach the thought of talking to them right now and pretending that nothing has changed in my life.

As overjoyed as Vincent’s mom was to see him, I have no doubt she can be a handful. But I also saw how genuinely happy Vincent was as she embraced him. When it comes down to it, there’s nothing like a mother’s love.

I send mine a text.

Me: I’m taking on a lot of work and won’t be able to get to my phone much in the next week. Text to keep me updated though. Love you.

Chapter Fourteen

Mrs. Rogers sits at the family table, sporting the biggest grin as she watches Vincent shove a bite of mac and cheese into his mouth. If I weren’t pretending to be equally besotted, I’d be alternating between laughing and gagging at the display.

“This food is so good, Mrs. Rogers,” I say.

She finally takes her eyes off her son. “Thank you, dear. Food is my love language. And please, call me Cheryl.” Her eyes bounce from Vincent to me, taking on a dreamy quality. “Or Mom.”

The food goes down like a rock in my throat. “Thanks... Cheryl.”

Mr. Rogers chuckles. “Come on, Cheryl. Try not to scare the woman away.”

Mrs. Rogers looks around like she has no idea what he’s talking about, and I bite down on my lip to keep from laughing. I almost lose it when I look at Vincent and he has a pained look on his face.

When I go back to my food, I hear the front door open and close, followed by the jangling of metal and a woman’s “Down, Sheba!” Seconds later, Vincent’s youngest sister comes into view.

The first thing I notice is her hair: waist-length caramel-colored braids. With her faded Baylor University sweatshirt, she looks like she’s just starting her college career instead of having already graduated. Her deep brown eyes light up when they land on Vincent. “You made it!”

Vincent stands up to hug Brianna before introducing her to me. As I rise from the chair to shake her hand, two furry paws land on my thighs, and I look down into the cutest, furriest curly-haired face.

“Hi, sweetheart,” I coo while keeping my arms up.

Brianna gently pulls at her dog’s jewel-studded collar. “Down, Sheba. Down. Sit. Good girl.” She looks at me. “Sorry about that. Her training has been coming along well, but now we’re working on socialization and getting her to listen with distractions around.”

“It’s okay,” I say, but Vincent takes ahold of my elbow and pulls me back a step.

“She’s actually allergic to dogs,” he says.

Brianna’s eyes go big. “Oh, shoot. Sorry, I forgot.”

I cut my eyes to Vincent, who’s now frowning at Sheba as she sniffs my ankles. “No, really, it’s okay. I already took some allergy medicine when we got here, so I’m sure it won’t be an issue.”

“No, you can’t be sure it won’t be an issue,” Vincent presses.

Hoo boy. Not even two hours into the visit, and he’s already trying to make it hard for me to maintain the facade.

“Well, I know my body, and I know I can handle being around a dog for three minutes,” I say through clenched teeth.

“Come on, Vince,” Camille pipes in. “Don’t give your woman a hard time now. She’s still trying to make up her mind about you. You’ll send her running to the hills with that know-it-all attitude.”

I actually won’t be running anywhere near those hills we drove through. All the same, I send a thankful smile to Camille, then a triumphant smirk to Vincent.

Vincent casts a sullen glance at Mrs. Rogers. “Momma, tell Camille to leave me alone.”

Mrs. Rogers shakes her head. “Can you two go five minutes without trying to give me a headache? You’ve barely seen each other in years, and you’re already getting started.”

They both look quelled, but when Mrs. Rogers goes to put her plate in the sink, Vincent makes a funny face at Camille.

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