Page 48 of Betting on the Bad Boy
My mother had found it a completely original and lofty goal and offered to put him in touch with some of her contacts in the publishing world when he was ready.
The two of them carried the conversation, and I interjected every once in a while. My mom let a few embarrassing stories from my younger days slip out and Murph responded appropriately, laughing at her recollections, but not enough for me to feel like he was laughing at me. When the bill came, he reached for the check.
“It would be my pleasure if you’d allow me to buy dinner for you both. It’s not every day I get the chance to dine with two beautiful women.”
Claire twittered. I couldn’t believe my mom fell so easily for his obvious tactics. I rolled my eyes and sighed.
“Thank you, Patrick, for a lovely evening. If you need help or want me to put you in contact with anyone, just let me know.” She pushed a business card across the table to him.
“Thanks. I really appreciate it.” He smiled at me and slid the card into his wallet.
After the bill had been paid, it was finally time to go.
“Honey, my hotel is just up the street. Why don’t you drop me off, and then you and Patrick can go do something fun together?” she said.
She’s been in town for less than eight hours and she’s already playing matchmaker?“But Mom, I can drop him off first and then we can spend a little time together.”
“That would be lovely, but I’ve got an early flight, and I know you have lots of studying to do. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks over winter break. We’ll have lots of girl time then.”
Wow, dissed by my mom. I sneaked a glance at Murph. His face lit up like a Christmas tree. We made our way to the car, and he sprinted ahead to open the door for her.
“What a gentleman. Most young men nowadays don’t believe in chivalry.” She gave me a pointed look before climbing into the car.
Most young men nowadays aren’t conniving assholes, either. I wrenched open the door and slid my seat forward so Murph could climb in the back. Why did he have to tag along at dinner?
We stopped in front of the hotel, and the doorman opened the door for my mom. I hopped out and walked around the car to give her a hug. Murph climbed out of the backseat to say goodbye.
“Mrs. Kepner,”—she gave him a chastising look—“I mean, Claire. It was very nice meeting you.”
“It was nice meeting you too, Patrick. It’s good to know Faith has such lovely friends here. Take good care of my baby, will you?” She gave him a hug.
As they pulled away, Murph gave me a smug smile. “I’ll just wait for you in the car.” He climbed into the front seat and shut the door, finally giving us a moment of relative privacy.
“He’s such a nice young man. Are you sure you’re just friends?” my mother asked.
“Definitely. He’s not my type.” I knew exactly what my type was: tall, dark hair, talented fingers, in need of corrective lenses.
“The good ones are hard to find, sweetheart. Look how long it took me to find Clem. When you find a good man, you’ve got to hold onto him.”
“Okay, Mom. If and when I find a good one, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Oh, Faith. I miss you, darling. We’ll have a great time together when you come home for Christmas.” She drew me in close.
I wrapped my arms around her. “Love you, Mom. Thanks for coming.”
“It wasn’t as bad as you feared?” she asked.
The fallout had yet to be seen. I was sure someone would say something over the next few days. I wasn’t embarrassed about who I was or who I was related to. It was just hard being thrust in the unwanted limelight my mother carried with her wherever she went.
“It’s never bad. I’m proud of you, Mom. You’ve come a long way from a single, working mother trying to raise a daughter on her own.”
“I wouldn’t change a thing. Those early years were hard, but look how well you turned out.” Mom kissed me on the cheek. “I’m proud of you too, honey.”
I wondered how proud she would be if she found out about the book Chastity Austen had just released. With my writing career taking off, it was just a matter of time before I would need to pull the plug. If only I could only find out who’d left that page.
My stomach lurched and my palms went clammy at the thought. I twisted my fingers together in an attempt to alleviate the pangs of panic clawing at my gut.
“Don’t keep that boy waiting. Go have fun tonight.”
