Page 63 of Villainous Summer

“Oh yeah, like you’d tell me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

She blinked at me as if I were speaking another language. “I can come with if you want. That way you don’t have to battle rush-hour traffic downtown to get me home.”

“You want to meet my mom?” I raised a brow.

“I’m great with parents. Mothers love me. One of my exes? His mom still sends me a Christmas card every year.”

The last girl I had brought around my mom was my prom date. A shy redhead who ended up leaving the dance with her girlfriends halfway through. I later found out she had an older boyfriend her parents didn’t approve of.

“Alright.” I turned toward the other side of town.

I let myself in the door, prepared for a bloodbath of her sprawled on the floor and howling in pain.

Instead, I found her on her back patio watering her favorite red geranium.

“Mom.”

She glanced up at me, setting the water can by her side, and her face broke into a wide smile, her gray eyes so similar to my own, wrinkling at the corners. “Donovan, what are you doing here?”

Waving my phone around, I scoffed. “You texted me I need you. I came as soon as I saw it.”

Mom furrowed her brow, turning in her chair. “I said I need you to pick up more of those mint chocolate balls next time you go to the store. I ate them all last night while binge-watching that show with the underwear model chef.”

Ignoring her lusty comments about men half her age, I retorted, “No, you said I need you. I called you four times, trying to get through.”

Once inside, she grabbed her phone off a side table and scrolled through it. “I’ll be damned.” She glanced up and grinned. “Well. You’re here now. How about you introduce me to this lovely lady who’s hovering around you, looking confused?”

Behind me, Summer tapped her nails against each other on one hand but fisted her hands once before stepping forward and thrusting the other out.

“Hi, I’m Summer. Nice to meet you—” She glanced at me, probably confused by what name my mom went by.

My mom took her hand in hers, covering it with both hands. “Glyndon Logan. Call me Glyn.”

Summer’s smile got wider.

“Glyn. It’s so great to meet you. Van has told me so many things about you.”

Mom glanced over at me, a mischievous glint on her face. “Has he? Well, come have a seat while he makes us some coffee, and tell me everything you’ve heard.”

As Summer settled into the floral print couch, she angled her legs to face my mom, who parked herself beside the couch.

Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I watched as Summer asked my mom about the show she was watching the night before.

A few minutes later, Mom glanced at me and frowned. “Where’s our coffee, Donovan?”

My cheeks heated, and Summer bit her lip to force back a smile.

“Right away.”

Once in the kitchen, I grumbled to myself as I rummaged her cabinets.

Everything had to be low for my mom to access independently, so I had to stoop.

Through the small cutaway between the kitchen and living room, I listened as Summer was telling her about her job at the hotel. Mom described the last time we went to a restaurant and how difficult it was for her to maneuver around the tightly packed tables with her chair. Summer nodded and laughed when Mom mentioned she had bumped a chair and caused a meatball to roll across the floor because the server wouldn’t help her through a tight spot.

“Serves them right.” Summer agreed. “If I were you, I would have flattened the meatball into the carpet with my wheel.”

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