Page 24 of Addicted to the Bad Boy
Should I get myself a leather jacket? Maybe a motorcycle too? I wonder how he’d react to seeing me that way.
I pass my mom’s room on the way to the kitchen. Her door is open slightly, so I knock and step inside. She’s reading Agatha Christie by the window and looks up and smiles as I come in.
“You look different this morning,” she proclaims. I instantly feel myself blushing. There’s that mom sense of hers again.
“Oh?” I ask, trying not to let her see me blushing. “I’m probably just red from the shower. How are you feeling—?”
“No, that’s not it,” she interrupts. “You—you’re in love, Mira!”
I can’t even hide it. My jaw drops, and I have to place my palm over my mouth to stop myself from giggling like a school girl. “Is it that obvious?”
My mom nods eagerly. “And it isn’t Tyler.”
“It’s not.” I shake my head.
“Well?” she presses, obviously excited. “Who is he, and when do I get to meet him?”
She pats the bed by her chair, and I go over and take a seat beside her. “Well, I know you might not believe this, but he’s a mechanic at a bike shop in town. We met when he fixed my car battery for me.”
Mom’s eyes gleam as I go over the story with her, leaving out all the bits too hot for TV, of course. It’s clear she’s almost as excited as I am about me falling in love with Finn. But I guess that’s what being a mother is all about—being happy for your children. Hopefully I’ll know firsthand in about nine months.
“That’s wonderful,” she says as I finish the story. “Just wonderful, sweetheart. I couldn’t be happier for you!”
“Thanks, Mom.” I smile. I’m trying my best not to think about just how she’s going to manage to continue her treatments now that I’m not going to be marrying Tyler, but she sees it in my eyes and pats me on the knee.
“Don’t worry about me, honey. I’ll be fine.”
“Would you stop reading my mind?” I reply with a smirk.
“That’s what moms do,” she laughs. “If you’re going to the kitchen, would you mind bringing me some tea? I’ve got a bit of a headache, and it always seems to help.”
“Of course,” I say, standing. “I’ll be right back.”
I slip out of Mom’s room and head down the hall to the kitchen, but when I pass through the foyer, I spot a courier approaching the door. I open it just as he’s about to knock.
“Delivery for Mira Coolidge.”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Here you are,” he replies, handing me an inconspicuous brown paper package. I sign for it, and he turns to go. I look down and realize there’s no return address.
“Excuse me, who sent this?” I ask, but the man simply turns and shrugs.
“You’d have to call the office. I just deliver ‘em.”
“Right…” I mutter as I close the door. I head into the kitchen and tear the package open. The contents spill out onto the counter, and instantly, I stop breathing.
Photos. Dated two days ago.
Of Finn…
Standingwaytoo close to a woman in the parking lot of his shop. She’s tall, exotic, curvy, and wearing a skirt that’s barely even there. Something you definitely don’t go run errands in. Her hand is on his chest while he looks down at her.
“What…?” My voice catches in my throat.
I brush the photo aside to reveal another beneath. She’s leaning in…
Another…her lips brushing against his cheek…
