Page 61 of Phishing for Love
I match him with my own disapproving edge. “Actually, Mom, Aaron is too busy to go out to lunch.”
“I am?”
“Oh, yes, all those mock phishing emails you have to send out. So many people to trick, so little time.”
He narrows his eyes at me. I narrow mine back.
“You’re right,” he says smoothly. “I do have my work cut out for me, especially when certain individuals are unwilling to learn.”
I nod along in pretend sympathy. “I’m sure it’s incredibly difficult to learn when you’re being put to sleep.”
Mom flashes an uncertain smile, clearly sensing the tension in the air. Thank goodness. Hopefully, that will clue her into the fact I want nothing to do with Aaron Sinclair outside of work. It’s bad enough I have to put up with him at work.
“Oh, you poor man!” Mom exclaims. “You can’t go to lunch when you’re so stressed and overworked. I know the perfect solution. We’re having a family barbecue this Sunday and I insist you join us.”
I’m struck mute with horror.
To his credit, Aaron doesn’t flinch. “That’s very kind of you—” he starts to say.
“Nonsense,” my mom interrupts. “It’s not kind at all. In fact, I’m ashamed.”
I try not to roll my eyes.Ashamedis a pretty strong word. It’s not as if Aaron is a kitten she abandoned in the rain.
“You’ve been here two months,” Mom continues, “and I’ve failed to show you any Brown Oaks hospitality.”
I try to picture my family, Nathan, Aaron, and me all together at my parents’ house. One big, cozy, dysfunctional group. I’m nearly hysterical at the image that forms in my head.
Hastily, I say, “I’m sure Aaron is busy this Sunday, Mom.”
Aaron flicks me a lazy, dangerous look. I don’t like that look one bit. “Actually, I’m not doing anything this Sunday.”
“Are you sure?” I put on display my most concerned expression. “I’m almost positive you mentioned you havesomething on.” Like, I don’t know, sharpening his collection of butcher knives.
“Nope,” he says, popping thep. “At least, nothing that’s more appealing than spending the afternoon with your family and experiencing true Brown Oaks hospitality.”
We stare at one another for several heartbeats and conduct a whole conversation with our eyes.
Say no to my mom.
Why?
Because I said so.
Since when have I listened to you?
I can think of only two reasons why Aaron would accept my mom’s invitation:
One, annoying me appears to be his favorite hobby.
Two, he relishes doing the exact opposite of what I want him to do.
“That’s settled, then,” Mom says. “We’ll see you Sunday.”
“But Mom—”
“But nothing, Tess Anne.”
I feel my mom watching me carefully. Holding back a sigh, I force a shrug that is undoubtedly stiff. There’s no arguing with her when she uses that tone. My mom seems intent on this unhinged course of action, and I find myself pulled helplessly and resentfully along for the ride.
