Page 25 of Tell Me I'm Not Dreaming
Patrick is being really cool about his situation because if this had happened to Ranson, he wouldn’t be so nice. Sheila is Courtney’s mother. She has been trying like hell to get her hooks into Patrick for literally over a decade. And he refuses to budge. He’s a mix of Kordell and Braxton in that he’ll sometimes date women, but it never goes beyond a couple of months—or he’ll just fuck them. Ever since he lost the love of his life years beforeRanson even met him, he’s never been serious about anyone. Sheila thought getting pregnant would change that and has been attempting to get Patrick to change his mind ever since.
“I’ll talk to Lyric about which one of her friends would like to meet you.”
“Cool. Good luck with Lyric. From what you’ve told me and what I’ve read, she sounds like the total package.”
“She is.”
When he pulls up to her house, he notices how nice her neighborhood is. It looks like a little town tucked into a big city.
Her house is warm and inviting. The only thing missing is a pie cooling on the windowsill. Maybe that’s what’s drawing him to her, that familiar feeling he gets whenever he’s back home. Lyric gives him that sense whenever he’s in her presence.
He rings the doorbell.
Lyric answers, her hair in a bun and her face clean with light gloss. She has a versatile face. Whether she’s all done up or without a stitch of makeup, she’s gorgeous. She’s dressed down in a pair of sweatpants and a UCLA T-shirt. This woman could make a potato sack look good.
“Good afternoon, sir.”
“Good afternoon. I hope my ambition to make you an impressive dinner didn’t cause you to leave work early.”
“I had to leave early anyway; all the phone calls were driving me crazy.”
“So, then, it is my fault, just not in the way I thought?”
“A little bit.” Lyric makes a tiny gesture with her thumb and forefinger.
They share a chuckle.
“Come on in.”
He looks around her house and digs the color scheme, noting that it’s very B&B.
He sets the groceries on her kitchen island and starts taking everything out.
“Can I get you something to drink? I just made a pitcher of tea.”
“That sounds good. Thank you.”
She pats him on the shoulder. The small touch is enough to make him crave more. She hands him the glass, and he takes a sip. It’s raspberry and pear flavored and tastes like a dream.
“FYI, I’m in the process of hiring some security for you so no one follows you home,” Ranson tells her.
The last thing Lyric should have to worry about is some asshole disrupting her peace and invading her home.
“Oh, thanks, but it’s okay. Big Head already took care of that.”
“Big Head?”
“My cousin, he owns a security company. Me and my girls always have bodyguards when we go on girls’ trips thanks to him. He’s very protective of me. They all are.”
“Who’s they?” Ranson takes another sip of his tea.
“I have eighteen first cousins. All dudes. I’m the only female grandchild my nonni has.”
“Damn. You must be spoiled as hell,” he teases.
“A tad. I’m also my parents’ only child.”
“Yep, definitely spoiled. I better get used to letting you have your way.” Ranson waits for her to reply, but she doesn’t. “I take it you have no problem with that arrangement.”
