Page 7 of Wrapped Around My Heart
I scoff, bringing her a glass of wine before rounding the kitchen island to sit on one of the stools across from her. As I take a giant sip, my mom pushes a block of cheese and a knife in front of me. Even when it’s just us, the woman is all about having something to munch on before dinner is served. I get to work, slicing without needing to be told.
“How was everything for you while we were gone?” she asks, expertly cutting into an avocado to make her fresh guacamole dip.
“Busy. I somehow managed to get ahead, though, so that’s a win. I still have to go through the inquiry form for the week, but it should be?—”
“Sweetie, tell me you did something other than work for the last two weeks?” The concern in my mom’s voice makes me bristle.
“Yes,” I snap, then take a deep breath and reach for my wine. “Viv and I went to Landon’s opening game.”
“And?” She raises a brow, and I know what she’s asking. I love my mom, but I will never understand why she feels the need to be so nosy about my love life. Or rather, my nonexistent love life. Considering I have always told her the second there was something to share, I don’t get why she continues to be pushy.
Guilt settles low in my stomach at the fact that I never told her about Dean. In my defense, there was nothing to share. At least nothing that I wanted to tell my mother.
It’s one thing to tell her how someone is making me feel all mushy and happy. It’s another thing to tell my mom that a man is railing me six ways to Sunday and making me see the stars every chance we get.
Besides, it’s been months since Dean and I hooked up. The fling ran its course. Meaning, there’s truly nothing to tell her.
“And we had a girls’ night at my place over the weekend. Aside from that, no, I haven’t done much. I’ve been busy working, Ma.”
She sighs, moving on to dicing up an onion. “All work and no play leads to a very boring life.”
I shake my head. “Trust me, my life is anything but boring. Everyone goes through busy periods. You don’t say anything when Landon does nothing but work for eight months out of the year.”
“That you know of. You’re not around for every single conversation between me and your brother.”
Damn it, she has a point. Maybe she is hounding my brother the same way and he never said anything.
Before I can think of a response, the sound of the front door opening and closing interrupts my mom’s interrogation. Landon calls out his greeting and I straighten in my seat, ignoring the way my heart kicks up at the idea of seeing Dean trailing after my brother.
Only when he enters the kitchen, it’s just him.
Painting on a smile, I turn just enough to give Landon a half hug.
“Sup, dork?” I say and he laughs.
“Not much, loser,” Landon answers, snagging a slice of cheese from in front of me before smiling at our mom.
“Hey, Ma.”
“Where’s Dean?” She answers with a frown, glancing around him as if the man in question will appear.
From the second that Dean joined my brother’s team, the goalie was viewed as one of us. Landon brought him by for dinner one time, and just like that, Mom told him he better come the following week. He fit in with us as if he was right where he was meant to be.
And once my mom learned that he’d lost his entire family when he was seventeen? There was no getting rid of him. Not that any of us wanted to.
“Ouch, gonna ignore the sting of being ignored by my own mother.” He shakes his head, heading to the fridge, and pulls out a beer as he answers, “Dean got a puppy a few days ago and didn’t want to leave her alone just yet.”
I whip toward my brother and fire off questions. “A puppy? What kind? How old? Do you have pictures?”
At the same time my mom says, “And he didn’t think to bring the puppy here?”
Landon shrugs, answering my mom first, “He didn’t want to assume you’d be okay with a puppy in your house.”
“Gee, if only there was a way for one of you to message me and ask.” Mom levels him with a glare and pointedly looks at her phone where it sits on the counter behind her.
My brother at least has the common sense to appear sheepish. “I…didn’t think of that. Sorry, I’ll make sure to tell him that hisandthe pup’s attendances are required next time.”
He finally turns to me, pulling his phone from his pocket. “It’s a shepherd mix. I believe she’s only twelve weeks old. Her name is Cora and yes, I have a picture.”
