Page 31 of Lust
“Mom—”
“If I don’t see you in five minutes, I’ll send that boy upstairs,” she mused, shutting the door behind.
With an eye roll, I fingered the hem of the dress. Tristan wouldn’t be happy about this. But perhaps I could meet with Tobias for only a moment to explain my peculiar Cinderella reenactment last night. I owed him that much before sending him packing.
Reluctantly, I changed to meet with the incredibly tall, dark, and handsome man waiting at the bottom of the stairs. I sauntered down the cascading staircases in my knee-length dress, and it dawned on me that Mom had all but set up a grand entrance for Tobias’ benefit.
“Sara!” He tugged me into his warm embrace with his signature heartthrob smile in place.
Unicorns. Sunshine. English Bulldog puppies. My heart burst open with all things that resembled happiness.
Only for a moment, though. “Umm, hi,” I said rigidly, wiggling free of his embrace.
He frowned. “Okay. I didn’t even kiss you that time, and you’re spooked. Hugs are supposed to be friendly territory.”
“We are not friends,” I pointed out.
“Are we not?” he pondered. “How about I take you out for breakfast so we can change that?”
Oh, he was good.
It wasn’t lost on me that I had proposed unfamiliarity, and he had countered it with a date and a panty-melting smile to go with it.
“I can’t—”
“Of course, she can.” Mom ran into the foyer to cut me off. Had she been listening to our conversation from the other room?
Christ, this woman wasn’t kidding about wanting grandchildren. She had been disappointed by Tristan’s efforts in that arena, so now her attention was solely focused on me. It didn’t matter that I was only shy of twenty years of age.
Since I turned fifteen, mom had had a perfectly laid out plan in place for me. Sadly, it used to be my dream, too, because I tended to romanticize things like my mother. Except, I realized dreams were called just that, for a reason. It was imaginary. Fictional. Lots had changed since then, and I had given up. But Mom never did.
She had planned for me to meet the perfect boy my freshman year. We’d date throughout college, and he’d propose at my graduation. But I’d be twenty-three during the actual nuptials because it’d take one year to plan the dream wedding. And, of course, Mom wanted us to be married for a year before we started trying for kids at the age of twenty-four.
Voila, presenting Mary Marcolf with her first grandchild by the time I was twenty-five. According to her, I was late to the game, and Mom’s biological clock for grandkids wasn’t just ticking; it was about to burst.
I scolded her with my eyes. “I can’t, Mom. I have that thing at the shelter—”
“Oh. I forgot to tell you. The shelter called. They don’t want you to come in today,” Mom said innocently.
I tried to scorch her nonverbally.
Meanwhile, she turned her attention to the male counterpart in the room. “Tobias, it turns out that I have plans to meet with friends this morning, but our housekeeper has already made breakfast for Sara and me. Would you be so kind as to join Sara for breakfast in our dining room? It’d be a shame to let food go to waste.”
Tobias didn’t miss a beat. “I hate wasting food.”
Mom practically shoved the two of us into the dining room, leaving her own house with the silly excuse. The only thing missing was a sign that flashed,slay my daughter.
Tobias wasn’t bothered. His handsome face appeared amused as he stepped into the dining room and pulled a chair out for me. Ugh! Even seeing him sip on a simple cup of coffee left me with butterflies and a deep flush.
Inwardly groaning, I mollified myself that it was only one breakfast. Tris wouldn’t bear witness to it, and I could spend it making meek excuses for my behavior yesterday.
So, I kept a polite distance throughout the meal, apologized for last night, and said my goodbyes after breakfast concluded. I was adamant that was the end. Hopefully, nothing awful would happen if I kept my heart at bay.
But keeping my heart at bay proved to be a significant challenge, especially when I arrived at the shelter and found a dozen roses waiting for me.
The only person who sent me flowers was Tristan after one of our particularly nasty fights. But these weren’t from Tris because he knew my favorite flowers were peonies.
This bouquet of red roses was from the gorgeous cop hell-bent on stealing my heart.
