Page 34 of The Proposal Pact
Fuck my life. That little menace just had to open her mouth and tell all the worst gossips about last night. I wouldn’t be surprised if Grace, or even my own sister, were posting about it live style onto the Love Hive chat.
Thankfully, Luke didn’t give me too much shit for it after I explained that I was there because of a 911 call and nothing more.
You’d think she washislittle sister with the way he glared at me the whole time.
At least she didn’t seem to go intoallthe details, like the fact that the shape of her ass in those pink panties is permanently imprinted in my head, so I should be thankful for that or else Luke might’ve had my head.
But fucking hell, it was the most perfect ass I’ve ever seen…anddd now I’m walking into my childhood home to greet my mother with a boner.
Perfect. Just perfect.
Trying to think of anything other than the firecracker with no filter on her mouth, I take the wooden steps to the front porch,inhaling the minty air mixed with the salty breeze of the cold ocean behind.
This is how home always smelled to me. That, and Mom’s and Julie’s baked goods. I pull the front door handle—of course it’s unlocked, despite me asking my parents to lock up—and step inside. This time the sugar scent is mixed in with savory notes of Mom’s famous bell peppers and Portobello mushroom lasagna.
“Clover, honey, there you are.” My mom’s sweet voice welcomes me as she steps out of the kitchen to greet me. One of her favorite kitchen towels tucked into her apron.
“Mom,” I groan out. “Please don’t.”
“It’s your middle name, Callum, stop being fussy about it.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Seriously, Mom, what were you on when you came up with it?”
“Oh stop, you silly boy.” She laughs, slapping my shoulder playfully. “Come give me a hug.”
She sounds happy, and on any other day I’d be happy she’s happy, but I know better. This is not her normal happy. This is too happy. This is “I know something you don’t” kind of happy and my hackles rise ten times higher.
But I pull her small frame into a hug. Her size is the only thing I didn’t inherit from her. Because the darker blond shade of my hair, the slight curl to it, and the green eyes all came from Mom. “It smells really good in here.”
“Mm-hmm, just like it did yesterday, but you weren’t here to enjoy it.” There. There’s the first slight dig into what happened yesterday with Sophie, because no, I didn’t come home last night.
I spent it on Sophie’s couch that apparently wasn’t colorful enough.
“Sorry, Mom, I had to work.”
“I know, honey.” She pats my face affectionately. “I hope you had some dinner last night,” Mom adds, and I blink, confused for a second.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Good. Go wash your hands, we’re about ready to eat. Julie and Griffin should be here in a minute or two,” she says, walking back into the kitchen.
Wait, that’s it? She won’t add any other comment about it? I stand there in the entryway, surrounded by Mom’s happy floral wallpaper and our family pictures, not understanding if I’m dreaming or this is just an elaborate set up.
“Callum?” Mom asks when she sees I haven’t moved. “Hands?”
“Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m going.” I start toward the bathroom down the hall.
“Dad’s in the living room,” Mom calls after me, and I nod.
What the fuck is going on? What’s her angle? There’s no way she’d miss that kind of golden opportunity. Dare I hope, she didn’t hear about it yet?
Quickly, I wash my hands and head to find Dad. Now, where I took after Mom, my little sister did after our father with his flaming red hair and insane brains. They are both too smart for their own good, I swear.
But thankfully, none of us took after his clumsiness. The guy could break a vase just by looking at it wrong.
No, we won’t mention my fuck up yesterday. That doesn’t count as clumsy.
There’s a hockey game playing on the TV as I walk inside the room, making me halt in my tracks. The fuck? Since when does Dad watch hockey?
