Page 23 of When We Were Us
I heave out a heavy sigh and shove my finger in my brother’s direction.
“You did that on purpose, asshole.”
“Hank,” Pop warns, and I slide an apologetic glance to him and then to Mom. Even at almost thirty-eight, I sit up a bit straighter at Pop’s stern tone.
We were raised never to cuss in our mother’s presence. I usually don’t have a hard time respecting that, but this whole Wrenley situation still has my cage rattled, and my brother apparently lives just to piss me off.
“You need to apologize to that girl,” she admonishes me and takes my plate to the sink.
And there it is, folks. A big, old, steaming pile of mom guilt with a side of fatherly disappointment.
I stand up and drain the last of my coffee. Hudson takes the chair I’ve vacated, and Mom sits a fresh plate of food in front of him. He claps his hands in front of him and grins at me like a jackass.
“I’ve gotta go,” I tell them. “Thanks for breakfast, Mom, Pop.” I plant another kiss on the top of Mom’s head.
“Hank, I’m serious. We raised you better.”
“Yeah. I know,” I mutter and turn to go.
“Good. And when you do, you can drop this off to her.” She crosses the kitchen and smiles up at me sweetly with a quick pat on my chest.
I look down at the bundle of sweet bread she’s holding out to me and take it with a nod.
Hudson huffs a laugh out through his nostrils, his mouth full as he chews. As soon as Mom’s back is turned, I catch my brother’s eye and mouth asilentfuck youat him before striding from the room with the return of my headache and what feels like a fifty-pound loaf of bread under my arm.
CHAPTER TEN
hank
I’ve been sittingoutside Wren’s place for twenty minutes. I left the barn this afternoon to bring her this stupid loaf of bread. When I knocked on the door and she didn't answer, I considered leaving it on the porch and going home, apology be damned.
But I knew the second I saw my mom, she would ask about it. I could try to avoid her, but she would find me eventually. Mom was nothing if not persistent. And even though I was a whole, grown-ass man, I hated the thought of disappointing her.
I told myself I would wait thirty total minutes, and if Wren isn’t back by then, this bread is mine and I’ll have to muster the balls to apologize without it.
The thing is, with the exception of that bit about her being back here for money, everything I said to her was true. I don't think she is a gold digger. I’d just been pissed and so caught off guard that I had lashed out. Sure, my delivery could have been a little less dickish, but the woman was seriously infuriating.
I’m about to say screw it and leave when a red Jeep pulls into the drive behind my truck. I don’t recognize it, but a glance at the plates tells me it's a rental.
I can see her behind the wheel, but I stay in my truck while she opens the driver’s door and gets out. She takes her time, leaning back in, and reemerges with a bunch of shopping bags.
I had been hoping to make this as quick and painless as possible, but apparently, she feels like making me wait. I probably deserve that. I climb out of my truck as she comes my way.
Wren stops next to my open door. Her glance bounces between the loaf of bread in my hand and my face.
She, of course, looks fantastic in a red top and another pair of skintight jeans. Her hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders. I grit my teeth and groan inwardly.
Perfect.
“Hey.” Removing my ball cap, I toss it on the seat, shut the door behind me, and run a hand through my hair.
“Hey,” she says, watching me with cautious eyes. One hand is gripped tight around three shopping bags, and her other hand is clutched on her purse over her shoulder. When I continue to stare at her like a dumbass, she raises her brows and shifts her feet, waiting.
“Shopping, huh?” I gesture to the bags in her hands.
“Yep.” She pops the sound of the last letter.
“Rental?” I hitch a thumb behind me, toward the Jeep.
