Page 15 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
Ian’s eyes narrow.
“Besides, you care too much about the job.” I nudge his shoulder, chuckling. “You don’t have it in you to mess with me at work.” And he doesn’t. The man crosses every T and dots every I. There’s a reason he was promoted.
Ian raises one eyebrow. The look of a man with a trump card up his sleeve. “Why do you assume I meant at work?”
A sense of foreboding hits me. “Then what are you talking about?”
“I hear your mother is a real ball buster.” Ian rocks back on his heels. “Thanks to one Miss Jules Starr, I happen to know what a Mamma’s boy you are.”
Fucking Starr. She met my mother once and has been obsessed ever since. Calling my mother her hero. Why, I don’t know. They couldn’t be more different. One is a career-minded astronaut with a penchant for perverted jokes, the other a retired teacher and longtime single mom who loves to cook.
But what Jules said is true: I do look after my mom. One, because that’s what any good son does, and two, since losing Dad while he was serving in the Army, I’ve taken great pains to try and fill the void.
I give my co-worker, whom I have severely underestimated, a wary once-over. “What exactly are you threatening me with, Kincaid?”
When Ian smiles at me, I can see the political upbringing in him. There’s a lot happening behind that smile. “Let’s just say I happen to have access to a certain Mrs. Bodaway’s phone number.” He wiggles the phone in his hand. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate a call. Tell her how helpful her son is being getting in between a man and his proposal plans.”
“You’d call my mother?” My mind stalls and mouth drops open. “Wait. You’reproposingtomorrow?”
“Shh!” Ian steps forward, covering my mouth with his hand, and looks over his shoulder at the shop.
I may have yelled that last part.
When Trish doesn’t come running out of the store in hysterics about him proposing, Ian sighs in relief. It takes him an extra second to realize how ridiculous the two of us look, one man holding his hand over another man’s mouth.
He jerks his hand back.
I move my mouth around, trying to erase the feel of Ian’s palm. “First, well played with my mom, Kincaid.”
He fights a smile but loses.
“And second, congrats man, that’s awesome.” I stick out my hand.
He shakes it, the smile on his face growing. I’ve never seen him so openly happy before. It must feel great to let yourself fall in love.
“Thanks, man.” His lips twist to the side, like he’s thinking. “I mean, we kind of already agreed to get married, but I’m not sure if that really counted.”
I laugh. “Don’t tell me you asked during sex?”
The look he gives me has my jaw dropping. “Are you serious?” Who would’ve thought Kincaid could be so spontaneous?
“Shut up.” He nudges my shoulder, pushing me a step down the street. “And get the fuck out of here.”
I laugh some more but nod.
Satisfied, Ian walks to the shop, throwing a hand up to wave as he goes. “I’ll tell Trish you can’t make it tomorrow.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Still smiling and shaking my head, I walk toward the bus stop. Leaning against the stand, I open my phone and thumb over to text messages, feeling quite pleased with the turn of events.
Ian’s going to go down with one of the coolest proposals of all time, and I’m one more step closer to figuring out who Rose is. One more step to getting her out of my system—luscious curves, finger guns, and all.
Then I’ll be able to give all my attention to the upcoming mission. No distractions.
I tap the contact bubble Ian sent, Rose’s name popping up on my screen.
Rose West.
West? Why does that…
