Page 130 of Fourth Point Of Contact

“To whine like a little girl.” He grabbed a file and tossed it at me. “Go do some fucking research and stop crying like a little bitch.”

I scowled at him, but grabbed the folder and shoved out of the chair, grabbing my crutches. The only way to walk was to shove the file folder in my mouth, which prevented me from getting the final word. I made my way to the door, trying to think of an excellent comeback, but in the end, I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.

“And Patrick,” Lock called out, drawing my attention back to him. “Be fucking thankful that you have a woman who gets along with your mother so well. Can you imagine what would have happened if they hated each other?”

I thought about it for all of ten seconds before I realized he was absolutely right. I could be fielding complaints right now. Instead, I had two women who got along perfectly and were leaving me alone. I should be happy. I should be fucking ecstatic that it was all working so well.

But as I headed out of Lock’s office, all I could think about was how it was going to be even harder to let Piper go now that my mom was falling in love with her. I’d break her heart even more than I already had. Somehow, I had to find a way to let my mom down easy when this was all over.

I stayedat work until six that night, determined not to go home and deal with the happy women in my house. If I was being honest with myself, I was probably more worried that I was going to enjoy this just as much as they were.

When I opened the door, laughter filled the air, along with the strains of Frank Sinatra. My mom used to listen to this all the time when I was growing up. It was a nightly ritual when she cooked dinner, and I couldn’t deny that it brought a smile to my face to see her so happy.

My mom held a spoon out to Piper, letting her taste the red sauce in the pan. If I was correct, it was her secret marinara sauce. She didn’t give this to anyone, but she was sharing it with Piper.

“Oh my gosh! That’s so good,” Piper groaned. “Thank you so much for sharing this with me.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure. We both know Patrick will never get married and give me grandkids, so I have to pass it down to someone.”

“Well, I’m honored it was me.”

My eyes traveled over Piper’s body, taking in the brand-new apron that she must have picked up with my mom. She looked so fucking adorable with her hair pulled back and a smile on her face. Everything about the scene was exactly as my mom would want it, and I couldn’t deny I liked the way she looked in my kitchen as well. Hell, everything about this felt right, but also so very wrong. It was fine for now, having her cook for me, but it would never last. Piper would go back to New York and do her thing, and I would go back to my bachelor life, enjoying my freedom.

“What am I not going to do?” I asked as I headed into the living room.

My mom laughed, sharing a secret look with Piper. Yeah, I heard, and I didn’t care. Mom thought I would come around with enough time, and Piper was enjoying watching me squirm. The joke was on them. I wasn’t budging under the pressure. I was a fucking rock.

“So, what’s for dinner?”

“Spaghetti,” Piper said proudly. “The first time that I’ve ever made anything this delicious.”

“You’ve never made spaghetti before?”

She spun on me, pointing the spatula accusingly at me. “Hey, don’t judge those of us who never learned.”

“I’m not,” I promised, though I really was. “It’s just odd that such a simple dish is so difficult to make.”

“Not difficult,” she retorted. “Just…not applied the right way.”

I wasn’t even sure what that meant, and I wasn’t about to ask. She picked up the pot off the stove and followed my mom’s instructions for pouring it through the strainer. Seriously, they made it look like she was cooking a four-course meal. Sighing, I walked over to the counter and leaned my crutches against the wall as I watched them finish up. They even had freshly grated Parmesan cheese.

“Then you add a little olive oil or butter to the noodles to keep them from sticking together. Personally, I prefer olive oil.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off Piper as she followed the instructions to the letter, then started mixing the noodles. She looked so fascinated by it all that I couldn’t help but take in every expression on her face. The way her tongue darted out to the corner of her mouth as she concentrated, and her eyes lit up when she saw the results. Hell, it was adorable how her brows scrunched up in concentration.

I was so fucked.

“Now, I add a leaf of basil as a finishing touch, but not everyone likes to do this,” Mom continued.

My stomach growled at the aroma, and I found myself getting agitated that they were taking so long to prepare the meal. It was just spaghetti, and yes, it was my mom’s, but did they have to make a whole show out of it?

“And then?—”

“Mom!” I snapped, getting angry that she was stalling.

She shot me a grin, sliding a plate over to me. “Patrick likes his spaghetti with less sauce and more cheese.”

“Only good way to have it,” I grumbled.

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