Page 85 of Good at Being Bad (Rock Canyon, Idaho 8)

“Well, she is going to have to deal today because we are already running late,” he said.

“Shit!” Ellie pulled away from him and rushed back inside. “I almost forgot the dessert.”

Mike’s eyebrows shot up. “You made a dessert? What kind?”

“I got the recipe on Facebook. It is supposed to be amazing.” She emerged a few moments later with a casserole dish covered in tinfoil. She lifted the corner to show him. “What do you think?”

It looked delicious. He kissed her temple. “I think Mom’s going to love and hate you for ruining her diet.”

He was praying that his mom would behave. She was very type-A and liked everything her way. One Thanksgiving, Gracie had brought a Dutch apple pie she’d made from scratch, and his mom had baked her lattice apple pie anyway. After putting out both, she’d sent Gracie home with the leftovers because neither her nor Mike’s dad liked the crumble top. Mike had felt so bad, he’d taken the pie, and had called his

mom on the way home about her anal retentiveness.

It hadn’t worked, though, and he had a feeling today wouldn’t be any different. The only thing he could do was get to his mother first.

He held the door open for Ellie, and she climbed in. Once he got into the driver seat, he tried to be casual. “So, just a warning, but my mom can be—”

“Aw, are you going to tell me you’re a mommy’s boy and no one is good enough for her little boy?”

“Actually, I was going to tell you that she can sometimes be a controlling, rude pain in the ass, and you should try not to take it personally.”

Mike’s words stuck with Ellie as they walked up the steps of his parents’ house. Set in a quiet, secluded cul-de-sac just outside the city limits, it had a perfectly groomed lawn and trimmed shrubs in the front yard. On the door was a wreath made of red, white, and blue ribbon with a sign that said, Let Freedom Ring.

“I like the wreath,” Ellie said lamely. She wished she could rub her sweaty palms on her clothes, but she was holding the glass pan.

“Yeah, I think she has one for every season and holiday. Her favorite store is Michael’s.”

“Is that where you got your name?” Ellie joked.

“Actually, it was for Michael, the archangel in the Bible.”

Ellie blinked at him. “Are you Catholic?”

“I don’t practice, but yeah, they are.”

Ellie had gone to church her whole life, but Catholicism was hard-core.

Mike reached out and rang the doorbell. “Ellie, stop freaking out.”

“I’m not.” Ellie could hear the tip-tap of no-nonsense heels just as Mike’s hand slid over her lower back and squeezed her hip gently.

“Everything will be fine.”

The door swung open and Barbara gave them a wide smile. “Michael, why are you ringing the doorbell?”

“Just in case you and Dad were getting busy,” Mike said. His mother’s smile melted as she swung a disapproving look his way.

Finally, she stepped back and allowed them inside. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Ellie. You may call me Barbara.”

“Thank you for having me,” Ellie said as she stepped inside. “I made an Oreo Delight Cake. Should I put it in the kitchen?”

Ellie could have sworn Mike’s mom grimaced. “How thoughtful. Why don’t I take it from you, and you two can go on in and say hi to Michael’s father? He is manning the grill.”

Ellie let her have the pan and when she disappeared, whispered to Mike, “Okay, what the hell did I do?”

“I told you she was a major PITA.” Taking her hand, he squeezed it. “I’ll take you in and introduce you to my dad and then go talk to her.”

Ellie didn’t like that Mike had to smooth whatever feathers she’d ruffled, but she was trying so hard to be good that she bit her tongue.

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