Page 109 of The Hookup Situation
“Innocent? Give me a damn break.” I steal a kiss.
Her eyes scan down my body.
“I want more of that later.”
“My point,” I tell her. “You’re no angel.”
“I’m coming up!” her mom says. “Hope you’re decent.”
“Go,” I say, but not before I pull her against me, kissing her.
Footsteps traveling down the short hallway have us scrambling. They’re heading straight toward us.
When we break apart, I rush to pull on my clothes.
“Julie?” Her mom’s voice is closer now. “I brought breakfast from the shop and—oh!”
Julie steps out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
“Mom. Dad,” Julie says suspiciously. “Can we go downstairs?”
“Are you alone?” her mom asks.
“Uh, I …”
I take this as my cue and open the door.
A woman who looks like an older version of Julie—same red hair, same green eyes—stands at the doorway. Behind her is a tall man with graying hair and suspicious eyes.
“I’m Nick.” I step forward, offering my hand. “Nick Banks. Nice to meet you both.”
Julie might explode from embarrassment, and I find it adorable.
Her mom’s eyes light up. “Oh! You must bethe boyfriendeveryone has told us about!”
“Everyone?” Julie and I say in unison.
“The whole town’s talking,” she insists. “I thought it was a rumor, to be honest.”
“Okay, okay, can we please take this conversation downstairs?” Julie asks, pushing them forward.
We all head downstairs, and I can feel Julie’s tension radiating off her like summer heat. Her mother immediately makes herself at home in the kitchen, pulling goodies from the bags she brought. There are caramel apples, maple scones, and miniature pecan pies.
“Let me make you both breakfast,” I offer, moving toward the stove.
“Oh, no, dear. We already ate,” her mother says, but she’s studying me with interest. “We stopped by the diner. Marge finally rolled out her pumpkin pancakes for the season.”
“First day of pumpkin pancakes is basically a town holiday,” her dad adds, extending his hand for a proper shake now. His grip is firm, testing. “I’m Richard. And pardon my daughter for being so rude, but this is Sharon, my wife.”
“So very nice to meet you,” I say genuinely.
“I used to watch you play, Banks. You were a monster on the ice.”
I chuckle, but I’m flattered. “Yeah? I only act that way when I have skates on.”
Her dad laughs. “You’re a legend.”
“Nah,” I say.
