Page 209 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
Hugo’s eyes bounce between Brandon and me for several heart-clenching seconds before they settle back on Brandon. “Do you have a death wish?”
When Brandon shakes his head, Hugo purses his lips while shifting his eyes to me. “He doesn’t have a death wish, so I guess we’re staying at a hotel.”
“Brandon’s mom said it’s fine for us to stay here.”
“Oh, okay, since Brandon’s mom said it’s fine, I guess it’s fine.” Don’t let his words fool you. He’s being a sarcastic ass. “Where’s the phone Isaac gave you in case of an emergency.”
“This isn’t an emergency.” His cocked brow stuffs the rest of my reply into the back of my throat.
Before I can find the backbone I lost somewhere between here and Ravenshoe, a medium-build, middle-aged woman barrels out of the house. With a wonky smile stretched across her beautiful face and her arms thrust out wide, she yells, “BJ!” at the top of her lungs.
Her half blonde/half gray hair bounces on her sweater-covered shoulders when she gallops down the paint-peeled steps. She leaps into Brandon’s arms, her smile doubling when he spins her around the concrete path. When my eyes flick to Hugo, I note even he’s grinning at their enthusiastic greeting. That’s not surprising. It’s so heartwarming, I yank up the sleeves of my shirt to settle down my raring heat.
After pleading to be put down, Brandon places the lady back onto her feet. Once she has her askew apron sitting back, front, and center, she lifts her sparkling blue eyes to Hugo and me. The crazy beat of my heart ramps up a notch when she rushes my way to greet me with as much enthusiasm as she greeted Brandon with.
“Isabelle! It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you.” The scent of rhubarb pie and dandelions filters through my nose when she wraps me up in a warm hug. “You’re even more beautiful than Brandon described.”
Heat creeps across my cheeks. I don’t know who this lady is, but she has an aura that makes me instantly fall in love with her. When she inches back from our embrace, she holds me at arm’s length so her eyes can assess my face with precise detail.
“Oh my goodness, my grandbabies are going to be beautiful!”
A scratch impinges my throat when it suddenly dries, and I don’t need to turn my gaze to know Hugo heard her comment. His glare is burrowing a hole in the side of my head.
“Mom, she hasn’t even walked through the front door yet, so don’t scare her away with baby talk.” Brandon rubs his hands together as his edgy gaze shifts between Hugo and me. He has the right to be nervous. Not only is Hugo glaring at him with the eyes of a killer, I’m just as perplexed. His reply insinuates that we’re a couple, which we are not.
Not a word spills from Brandon’s mouth, but he doesn’t need to talk for me to hear his plea. His begging eyes say more than his words ever could. Although peeved he’s placed me in this position, I nod, agreeing with his wordless plea for me to follow his ruse. I’m not happy, but my scorn can wait until we aren’t in the presence of his mother.
Cashmere brushes against my wrist when Brandon’s mom curls her hand around mine. It’s like she felt the tension in the air, so she anchored herself to me so I can’t do a runner. When her nurturing eyes shift to my right, her pulse surges through our conjoined hands. A smile curls my lips when the almost translucent skin on her cheeks blooms with a pink hue.
Apparently, Brandon gets his blushing from his mother’s side of the family.
“Ma’am,” Hugo greets her with a curt nod of his head.
The nervous sparkle in his eyes is cute. He’s accustomed to being hit on—he’s gorgeous, so I’m sure it’s a regular occurrence—but the way his wide eyes timidly float around our surroundings exposes that he’s not used to being visually undressed by a lady twice his age.
“What squadron were you in?” Brandon’s mom gestures her head to the tattoo on Hugo’s arm I investigated a few months ago.
Hugo tugs down the sleeves of his long-sleeve shirt to conceal his vast collection of tattoos before answering, “American Hornets, ma’am.”
So, I was right, he was in the Air Force, but why isn’t there any details of his deployment in their database? Sensing my silent questions, Hugo flashes me a grin. It isn’t his usual smile, but it’s a clear indication that he’ll never answer the questions beaming from my eyes.
After suggesting we leave the boys to unpack the car, Mrs. James ushers me inside. Freshly baked cookies and pie infiltrate my nostrils when we enter the foyer of her country residence. When my stomach grumbles, she laughs.
“Lunch is still an hour away.” Her cornflower-blue eyes stare up at me lovingly. “But I’ll let you sneak in a few cookies before we sit down to eat. Just don’t tell Brandon. I don’t let him eat sweets before dinner since he’d never eat his greens.”
I keep my expression as neutral as possible, but something on my face must give me away as she peers at me with suspicion not even a second later.
“It was only once, and I promise he ate all his dinner.” He complained about me burning the marinara sauce, but he still polished his plate clean.
Giggling, she leads me into the room responsible for the scrumptious smell in the air. By the time Brandon and Hugo join us, I’ve demolished four raspberry and white chocolate chip cookies. Things are always tense between them, but it’s more noticeable now.
When Brandon’s hand gets slapped by his mom for attempting to steal a cookie from the cooling rack, Hugo uses their distraction to his advantage. He nudges his head to the hall requesting a private word.
After running my sweaty hands down my thighs, I hop off the barstool before following Hugo into the hall. I barely make it halfway into the photo-littered space when Hugo’s fighting stance reveals he won’t just use words to get his point across.
“We’renotstaying here.”
I huff as my mood slips back into the eerie blackness my confrontation with Clara started. I’ve been getting pushed around so much lately, my usually easy-going demeanor is gravely faltering.
