Page 30 of Hot Rucking Canadian

“Well, then we’re good.” He rose. “You do what you need to do, and then I’ll serve you breakfast in bed.” He wore an oversized T-shirt and track pants and looked fucking sexy.

“Uh…are my jeans dry?”

“Nope. Still damp. Guess you’ll just have to stay here until they dry.” He pointed to the television across from the bed. “We can watch the game in bed.” He sauntered out of the room.

And so we did. Well, we tried to. I was a terrible student, because all I wanted was to learn about him. What turned him on. What made him tick. What made him come as hard as a freight train.

I was pretty sure his ass was sore by the time my jeans were dry and I made my way home. I was also pretty certain he was damn happy about it.

Chapter Twelve

Isaiah

“Stop fidgeting.” I glared at Travis.

He sighed. “I’m meeting your mother.”

We were riding the elevator up to her fifteenth-floor condo. She’d bought a studio condo in this building when I’d moved out. She claimed she didn’t mind the small space. In truth, she’d saved her entire life for a place of her own. Tired of renting, she had a dream of home ownership. An unexpected inheritance from a distant maiden aunt had helped a lot. Mom owned the place pretty much outright.

I’d also received a part of that inheritance, and had put it down on my mortgage. I’d renegotiated for a lower payment, so I had a bit more money to spend. Money I’d been trying to spend on Travis.

Which irritated him to no end.

That, in turn, made me grin all the freaking time.

Mom’s studio was in an older building in North Vancouver. A quick ride on the ferry got her across the Burrard Inlet and another quick bus down Burrard Street landed her at thehospital. When St. Paul’s moved into its new home a few years from now, she’d have to take the SkyTrain. I worried, even though public transit was pretty safe.

I worried about everything to do with her.

The bell chimed, the door opened, and we stepped into the hallway.

“That smells…” Travis sniffed. “Oh my God.”

I laughed. “Mom gives some to each of her neighbors. So she was probably walking these hallways about ten minutes ago.”

“And we get to eat that?” Travis’s stomach actually rumbled.

Another laugh escaped my lips. “Yes, we get to eat that.”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “This, uh, feels fast.”

I cocked my head.

“Meeting the parents.”

“Mom’s been bugging me for weeks. Thanksgiving’s the perfect time. She was going to go all-out anyway. This way she doesn’t have to do it twice.”

“She doesn’thaveto do it at all.”

I grasped his hand. “This is my mom’s way. She shows love with food.” I patted my stomach. “Why do you think I work out so much? Have to keep up with herlove.”

He squeezed my hand. “My mom would’ve loved you.”

“Well, this will be our way of sharing me with her.” I wasn’t religious, but I was spiritual. On occasion, I believed things beyond what could be explained. I could believe Travis’s mom was here in spirit.

“Yeah, okay.”

Mom’s door swung open. “Good grief, Isaiah. Are you going to stand there and jabber or are you going to come in?”

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