Page 44 of You Rock My World
Mom pulls out her phone and shows Moira. My aunt lets out a low whistle. “I don’t understand, sweetie. If he wants to bang you, and you want to bang him, why aren’t you two banging?”
Lily covers Penny’s ears, but my niece wriggles free. “Mommy, what does banging mean?”
“It means… Aunt Josie’s boyfriend is a musician, and they’d like to play the drums together.” Lily shoots Moira a disapproving look.
Moira waves that off. “Josie, you’re wasting your prime. If I had a man like that?—”
“You’d scare him off before the appetizers,” I mutter.
“Appetizers? Honey, I’d skip straight to dessert.”
Penny perks up. “Can I skip to dessert, too?”
Lily sighs. “Not until you’re eighteen, sweetie.”
Moira taps her chin, still eyeing the photo. “Does this gentleman have a brother? Or better yet, a father?”
The doorbell saves me from having to reply. I shoot them a look. “Be good,” I warn and head for the door.
I can’t believe I’m about to introduce Dorian to my crazy, lovable, unpredictable family. Taking a deep breath, I paste on a smile and open the door.
25
DORIAN
Ned drives me to Josie’s childhood house while I lie flat in the back seat not to be spotted. I straighten up only when we park in front of the attached garage and pull a baseball cap low on my head as I exit the car.
The yard is neat—trimmed lawn, potted plants, and two flowerbeds at the end of the concrete driveway. Unbidden, my mind flickers to the trampled flowerbeds at my place. The ones the gardeners still have to fix after Billie ravaged them last night. I push the thought away. Tonight isn’t about my ex-wife. It’s about Josie, about showing her we can have normal things.
As I take in the house, I wonder what it was like for Josie to grow up here, what parts of this place shaped the woman who’s waiting inside.
I close the car door, eager to find out. I wave at Ned as he drives away and head to the front door. I linger on the porch, as jittery as a teenager about to confess his first crush, and finally ring the bell.
Josie comes to open it with her hair still in the medieval braids from this morning—damn her—but she’s now wearing one of her milkmaid dresses. The style makes her a cross between a fairy-tale princess and the girl next door. And I’m afraid I can’t resist either version.
She glances past me, presumably scanning for any sign of cameras. “You weren’t followed?”
“No, we were careful. No one knows I’m here.” I give her a reassuring smile.
“Hurry in before someone sees you.” Josie steps aside to let me in, warning, “And brace yourself, Moira is springy tonight.”
I step inside, and the house envelops me in its cozy warmth. Family photos line the walls, a small table holds a bowl of keys and a stack of mail, and the savory scent of home cooking wafts in from the kitchen.
Josie leads me into the living room where her family is gathered. Eager to make a good first impression, I remove my cap, rake a hand through my hair, and put on my most charming smile.
A lady with long white hair dressed in a colored kaftan approaches me, enveloping me in a hug so enthusiastic it’s alarming. Aunt Moira, I suspect. Her hands linger on my lower back, skating dangerously close to inappropriate territory. She doesn’t quite squeeze my ass, but it’s a narrow escape. I suppress a smirk at the borderline groping as Josie rolls her eyes.
“Easy, Moira,” Josie says, exasperated.
Her aunt winks and pats my cheek. “He’s even better looking in person,” she declares, eyeing me appreciatively.
One vote in my favor.
Josie introduces me to the others.
Her mom, Betty, greets me first with a firm handshake, her no-nonsense demeanor softened by a friendly smile. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Dorian.”
“The pleasure is all mine.”
