Page 92 of Rough Around the Hedges

“Well, thank you for letting me ramble on about that,” she said. “Even though you weren’t truly listening.”

I winced, but she only responded with a grin.

“At least you pretended to. Do you know what that darling son of mine does? He grunts and goes, ‘Yes, Mother, it sounds lovely, but can you tell me later?’ Which simply translates to, ‘I have no idea what you’re prattling on about, so do bugger off.”

“Huh. He just tells me to shut up,” I mused.

She laughed, stirring her coffee. “That’s because you’re under his skin, dear.”

“I don’t want to be under his anything, thank you very much.”

“Oh, come now, we both know that isn’t true.” She leant in conspiratorially, as if we were plotting to go all Guy Fawkes on the government, and the twinkle in her eye made me want to run away. “I know everything.”

I sincerely hoped she didn’t.

I coughed into my fist, looking away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play coy. I can only imagine how much you have on your mind knowing that you’d met before he arrived in Hanbury.”

Oh.

That.

She knew about the one-night stand… Or she’d put two and two together after finding out we already knew each other.

“Yes, well…” I trailed off, turning my attention to my coffee. “It’s hardly an ideal situation to find oneself in.”

“Indeed, indeed.” She paused. “Especially since you seem to know one another very well.”

I looked at her sharply. I knew what she was implying. She absolutely knew what we’d done in his office that day.

Please, God, never let her find out about the shed.

I would take the shed sex to my grave.

Not even Isadora would ever discover that dirty little escapade.

“Now, I’m not meddling,” she quickly said. “You’re both grown adults, and what your relationship is is your business, but I do have one teeny, tiny, little question.”

I wasn’t going to like that question, was I?

Barely holding back a groan, I said, “Go on.”

“What are the chances of you becoming my daughter-in-law?”

And just like that, I choked on the mouthful of coffee my stupid arse had just taken.

“Lower than zero,” I croaked out, gratefully accepting the napkin she offered so I could wipe away the bits that had exploded out of my mouth.

“That’s a shame. I think you could keep that wayward little bugger in line.”

“Yes, because I’m doing such a wonderful job of making him listen to me right now,” I said dryly.

She waved her hand. “Every man is trainable, dear.”

“If I wanted a dog, I’d go and adopt one,” I replied. “So, thank you, but I think I’ll pass. Hopefully, your future daughter-in-law is a gardening-hating, city-dwelling young lady who will keep your ‘wayward little bugger’ in London, never mind in line.”

“Dear me, Rose. If you keep talking like that, I might start thinking that you actually do dislike him.”

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