Page 20 of The Pursuit of Her Happiness

“Mylanta. My ass.” He scowls at my response which makes me chuckle. “Second date, mister. Slow your roll.”

“I will not.” I open my mouth to argue, but he grabs my hand and leads me up the sidewalk to a white two-story colonial with a wrap-around porch. A summer wreath on the front door, wooden rocking chairs with cushions on the front porch. I want to live here.

“Whose house is this?” I don’t think it’s his, he lives at the clubhouse. Although, he could own property somewhere and just spend most of his time with his brothers. I know so much about him and so little at the same time.

“My parents.” I immediately plant my feet, nearly toppling over when he continues walking. My heart is racing unpleasantly.

“Your—Why would you bring me to your parent’s house? Second fucking date, dude. What the hell?”

He smirks slowly, his damn eyebrow arching, “Dude?”

“Dude,” I respond as if that should explain it all.

“Quinn, darlin’, doesn’t matter how old you are, you always need a mom. I’m sharing mine with you.”

“Dammit, dude! You’re gonna make my eyes piss! I can’t believe you would spring this on me and be all cute and sweet. Argh!”

He winks at me, then knocks on the front door before opening it. “You can punish me later.”

“Mom! Dad! We’re here.” I swallow nervously, my salivary glands on overdrive as my heart threatens to punch right out of my chest. I know I have a death grip on his hand but he’s gentlemanly enough not to mention it.

“Bent!” A beautiful older woman comes around the corner, a dish towel over her shoulder, a welcoming smile aimed my way. “Ooh, is this Quinn?” He nods with a chuckle, releases my hand and practically shoves me toward his mother. She grips me on my upper arm, her blue eyes just like her son’s, not missing a thing as she looks me over. Her smile grows, and I’m suddenly against her chest, her arms wrapping tight around me. “I’m so happy to finally meet you!”

“Finally?”

An exact replica of Bently appears behind her. He’s a little more weathered by experience, but handsome, nonetheless. “Boy has talked about you non-stop for a year!”

“It wasn’t non-stop, jackass.” My eyes widen as his mom releases me. Never, ever, ever would I speak to my father or mother like that, no matter how much I might want to. Polk’s dad chuckles, then pulls me in for a hug as well.

I refuse to think about how good it feels to be hugged. I can’t remember the last time my parents embraced me, let alone welcomed me warmly into their home. Fuckin’ Polk…how sad is it that I’m more uncomfortable by his thoughtfulness and generosity than the vile things Ford has said to me? What does it say about me?

“Quinn. My mom and dad, PJ and Kylie Walker. Parents, this is Quinn Palomeni…my woman.” My eyes snap to his, pure joy gleaming in their depths. He’s truly happy to claim me. Oh, I’m in deep, deep trouble.

“It’s wonderful to meet you both. If I had known we were coming here, I would have brought something. I apologize for showing up empty-handed.” I direct my last statement to Polk with a frown. He is immune to my ire, smiling with a shrug like he has no care in the world.

“Thank you for the thought, honey, but it’s nothing to apologize for. Come in, let’s sit down. Brunch is ready.” His mom leads me by the hand into the dining room, a large spread covering the table. There are sweet and savory options and a multitude of beverages. Polk pulls out my chair for me and pushes it in as I sit down. He sits next to me, his mom and dad across from us.

My plate fills up without my help, Kylie and Polk taking turns piling more and more food. I’m not sure who they think I am, but there is no way I’m gonna eat all this. It’s nice to be served, though.

His parents ask me questions about myself; however, I get the impression they know quite a bit about me already. A smallsmile tips my lips at the thought of Polk telling his parents the details of my life. They tell me stories of his youth and as a mother of three boys, I offer my condolences to Kylie.

“Kason wasn’t quite as…curious.” She says sometime later.

“That’s your brother?” They’ve mentioned his name a few times, but I’m not quite sure of the relation or order of birth.

Polk grins boyishly, “Yeah, he’s older.”

“Does he live around here?” I ask, wondering why he isn’t joining us for brunch.

PJ tells me proudly, “He’s a Marine.”

Kylie sighs, “We’re not sure exactly where he is right now. But his last email, a few days ago, assures us he’s still alive and kicking ass.”

“Two vets in the family.” I joke, and thankfully his parents laugh.

Polk grumpily waves off my comment, “Yes, yes, we’re super proud of Kason.” Tapping his fingers on the table, he shifts in his seat, “He doesn’t bring you goats to play with.” He sounds like a petulant child, and I hate how adorable it is.

“You say, ‘play with’, I say ‘ate my underwear’.” PJ pins Polk with a stern glare.

---