Page 32 of Hot Rucking Canadian

His eyes were a little misty. He clutched his hand to his chest in a way I knew meant he was touched. He’d done the same thing when I’d given him a team jersey. Oh, and tickets to sitbeside Becca for our next home game. I’d waffled back and forth between offering just one or giving him the pair. In the end, I’d left it up to him. He’d invited his coworker Annabelle.

The look of gratitude he’d given me would stick with me for a very long time.I’m going to keep giving him as many gifts as I can. Stuff that doesn’t cost money. Stuff that makes him smile.

Finally, when I had the ham completely carved, Mama moved the plate to the table. She’d send me home with a massive container, and I’d be having ham-and-honey-mustard sandwiches for a week.

I’d be in seventh heaven.

Mama and I sat at the table. I sat next to Travis and took his hand as Mama offered her prayer of thanksgiving. I’d warned him and he’d assured me he didn’t mind. That he wouldn’t be offended. That he’d respect every tradition in Mama’s house.

We hadn’t specifically talked religion. Nor had we dug into politics, although he’d mentioned whom he voted for last time. Same party I had, so we were good on that topic. I could’ve dated someone who didn’t see things the way I did—had, in fact. We’d avoided politics, but I’d always had a niggling sense of knowing we perceived things differently. I liked that Travis believed in the same things I did. Understood, with few words, what things were important to me.

“Eat.” Mama passed the basket of rolls to Travis.

His nose twitched as he took one.

“Fresh baked.” She beamed.

“I…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“So don’t say anything. Eat up, making happy noises, enjoy the meal, and I’ll be satisfied. And if you don’t like it—”

“Oh, I’m certain I will.” He surveyed all the food. “You don’t have to worry about that.” He put a roll on his plate, then accepted the plate of ham I handed him.

She grunted. “You’re too skinny.”

“Mama.” I tried for my best chastising voice. Evidently I hadn’t been clear in my warning not to focus on the physical. I’d warned her about the scar and tattoos. Hadn’t thought to mention how skinny he was. And since I knew he didn’t do drugs, I wasn’t as worried as Mama clearly appeared to be. Drug use by people working in trades was something I’d read about. The numbers scared me.

Travis assured me he was fine.

I believed him.

“So, Travis, you like my son?”

I nearly choked on a piece of ham.

Travis cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am, I really do.”

She waved. “You call me Mama. Everyone calls me Mama. Well, except at work. Then I’m Nurse Maria.”

“Uh…Mama…” He appeared to be trying out the word. “Thank you.” He whispered the words quietly.

“And…” She held a piece of bun aloft—nearly pointing it at him.

“Yes, Mama, I like your son a lot.”

She nodded her approval. “That’s good. He likes you too. Talks about you all the time—”

“Mama.” I glared.

She grinned. “He doesn’t bring boys around.”

“I’m hardly a boy.” Travis glanced down at his food, pushing a bit of mashed potato around the plate.

I handed him the gravy boat.

He offered me a grateful smile.

“You’re younger than me.” Mama grinned. “That makes you a boy. To me, anyway.”

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