Page 111 of Mr. Flirt

My mom’s eyes widened. “Whoa.”

I nodded.

“No wonder she saw you as one big red flag.”

“Thanks for that, Mom.”

The chef wandered into the kitchen holding a tray of flautas. My mom did very well in my parents’ divorce. Good enough that she had a second working kitchen behind the one we were all sitting in.

“Flautas. My favorite.” Winter hopped up and down, holding her belly, and my chest tightened.

It was so hard to believe that less than a week ago, I’d actually caught myself daydreaming about little Shep and Lucy munchkins running around.

My throat tightened, and I cleared the lump.

No. This wasn’t going to go down this way. I needed to fight for her.

It didn’t matter that she ignored my texts, calls, and emails. Or that all the bouquets of flowers I left on her doorstep were still there. I needed to see her again or at least let her know that she was never a bet or a joke to me.

“Your frat boy ways have caught up to you,” my mom said as the chef placed refried beans, rice, a platter of tacos, and a tray of enchiladas next to the flautas that Winter had already dug into.

“Thank you, Chef,” I said, smiling while ignoring the sting of my mom’s words.

But I felt empty and vacant.

I took a bite of the taco and couldn’t taste a thing.

“Maybe this showed you that you actually want to settle down and give me little grandbabies like Winter. Colton thinks he might have found the one.”

That was news to me.

Winter shook her head. “I don’t think that’s the best advice for Shep right now, Mom. Can’t you see he’s like a shell of a human at this point?”

My brow quirked. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

But Winter knew me better than myself.

“Really?” She took another bite of flauta. “You look like crap. You sound like crap. Your eyes are vacant.”

I waved my hands in defeat. “Okay. I get it.”

“Well, I was really looking forward to meeting the woman who’d finally swept my son off his feet.” My mom put a taco on her plate next to some beans. “But I guess I’ll have to wait for that.”

I nodded, taking a sip of wine and wondering what Lucy was doing. Sliding my phone out, I sent another text to her and realized she’d blocked me.

My shoulders slumped.

“What now?” Winter asked, taking a seat next to me.

“She’s blocked me.”

“How do you know?”

“I just tried texting her again.”

“Why do you keep texting her?” Winter asked. “She’s obviously...”

“Done with me?”

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