Page 87 of More Than a Good Friend

“Yes. It’s just so different.”

“Besides the kissing, is it really different? Your mom will try to convince you to do things you don’t want to do. Eat this. Call so-and-so. And I’ll volunteer to help however I can. We’ve done this same routine for twenty years. But now, when she asks if you’re dating anyone, the answer is yes.”

I laugh. “Nothing fazes you, does it?”

“Says the woman who was nearly tackled during the movie last night—accidentally—when the monster jumped out of the shadows.” He shakes his head. “I have to be honest with you, Goldie. I’m not a huge fan of scary movies. I only watch because you like them.”

I’ve never been a fan of scary movies. “I thought you liked them.”

“The very first time we watched one was because you suggested it. So I figured you liked them. And since you were a good friend and didn’t broadcast how much of a chicken I am, I just kept watching them with you.”

Laughing, I shift to face him as he parks in front of my parents’ house. “In high school, I suggested that movie because I hoped that during the scary parts, you’d put your arm around me or something. That was the only reason. But since you seemed to like them, I kept suggesting those movies.”

“Dang. I was dumb.” He runs around and opens my door. “But you know, I’m glad we didn’t date back then. I’d have broken your heart probably more than once. I needed time to grow up, and seeing good examples helped.”

I set the cookies aside and slide my arms around his neck. “But everything worked out.”

“Yeah.”

We take a moment to enjoy a kiss.

A car door slams, and a moment later, Dag pulls back and looks down at Missy, who is tugging on his jeans. “Howdy.”

She waves. “Hi. Are you her boyfriend now?”

His green eyes sparkle as he says, “I am.”

And that’s when I see Mom standing on the porch.

“Grandma!” Missy skips across the yard. “Mommy made the good green beans. With bacon in them.”

“Wonderful. Grandpa has steaks on the grill. Why don’t you go see if he needs anything from the kitchen?”

“Okay.” She runs off.

Mom waits on the steps.

My brother and his wife wave and walk into the house.

But Mom is still on the porch.

Dag whispers, “It’s kind of like a stand-off, but we have cookies.” He helps me out of the truck, then kisses my forehead. “Ladies first.”

“Hey, Mom.” I walk up and give her a hug.

“Hello, Marigold. Take the cookies into the kitchen. I want to talk to Hidalgo.” She pushes open the door.

When I glance back, he gives me a nod.

I step inside, but I don’t go to the kitchen. Taking up a position close to the door, I listen.

“Did I see you kissing my daughter?”

“You did.”

Mom laughs. “That sure took you a long time.”

“Yes, ma’am, it did. But good things come to those who are really dumb and spend years not seeing what’s right in front of them. At least that’s how it worked out for me.”

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