Page 74 of Fast Currents
I wreathed my arms around his neck. “You know how else we can celebrate?” I asked with an arched brow.
“If you say powdered cheese, I willdestroyyou.” He waited a beat and grinned.
“In bed.”
Chapter 30 – Lucy
Clay’s nerves over the holiday meal with his family rubbed off on me as Thanksgiving Day drew closer. I’d flitted around the studio all day, unable to settle on a project. Watching the clock. His parents arrived on the afternoon ferry. While I’d offered to join Clay to pick them up, he’d insisted I finish my workday. Like I’d make anyrealprogress with the threat of meeting my prospective in-laws hanging over my head.
I approached our front door that evening with trepidation. Clay had stowed all of his Halloween decorations for the year in totes in the garage. For a man who loved to go big, I wouldn’t have been shocked if an inflatable turkey graced our front lawn, but he’d turned up his nose at that idea, claiming the meal itself was all the celebration we needed.
Steeling myself for the likely kitchen chaos inside didn’t prepare me for an older woman and man to pop off the couch like sports fans cheering a home run. I half-expected foam fingers and a shower of spilled beer.
“You must be Lucy!” Clay’s mom rushed toward me with outstretched arms. She was tall like her son, built on the generous side. Her hug was soft, her curly gray hair tickling my temple. “I’m Trish.”
For just a moment, I let myself sink into her welcome. Believe in its warmth.
Then, in a whisper she added, “And if you hurt my son, I’ll bury you.”
She pulled back, grin broad. As if she hadn’t just threatened to commit homicide.
My lips curved in answer. My future mother-in-law was a peach.
Clay’s dad loped to her side, extending one broad palm.
“Carl. Nice to meet you, Lucy.”
Carl’s hand was smooth and dry, his handshake firm without being overpowering. His smile reached his blue eyes. Though not the same color as Clay’s, they twinkled down at me with Clay’s mischievous spirit. Jeans and a hoodie made him look younger than his sixty-plus years. His gray hair was brushed back from craggy features. Overall, he gave an impression of quiet satisfaction. Like his life had gone exactly how he wanted, and he was at ease in his skin.
“Nice to meet you too,” I murmured.
Clay came out of the kitchen, rubbing his hands on a towel. “Sorry, Luce. I didn’t hear you come home. It looks like I missed my cue.”
His mom flipped a hand in the air. “That’s okay, dear. You do what you need to do. We’ll entertain Lucy out here. Get to know her a bit.”
It shouldn’t sound like a threat. And yet…
Clay’s gaze met mine over his mom’s head. Maybe he saw the hint of distress there, because he said, “I’m done in the kitchen for now. We’re going out for dinner tonight anyway. I’ll grab ussome drinks. Mom, Dad, I’ve got a bottle of red open. Does that work for you? Luce?”
“I’ll come help,” I said, desperate for a moment alone with him.
I scurried into the kitchen. Clay opened his arms, and I stepped into them, savoring the hug as he wrapped me tight.
“Hey,” he murmured into my hair. “You looked spooked there for a second. Everything okay?”
Not ratting out my future mother-in-law was probably my best bet.
“It’s fine. Your parents seem nice,” I said weakly.
Clay stepped away, retrieving wine glasses from the cabinet. He took his time, meticulously pouring, making them even. He wiped a stray drip of dark wine from the counter. Scratched his neck. Avoided my eyes.
“Anything you want to tell me?” I asked.
Clay cleared his throat. “Now might be a good time to admit that part of the reason I was drawn to you was that I grew up in a household where speaking your mind was encouraged.”
“Let me guess – your mother?” I asked wryly.
“Yep. I should have warned you, but I figured if anyone could handle her, it’d be you.”
