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“I had Curtiss cancel.”
She nods as if trying to make sense of it. “Going later tonight, then? After your visit?”
She obviously missed the part where we have luggage…or maybe it’s more of a directive than a question and I fight the urge to hide with Mr. Chippendale.
“No,” he replies. I can tell it took a lot of courage for that one little word.
Her head cocks, and she clasps his biceps. She’s trying to understand.
“Taking the weekend off, mother.”
The formality of the word, mother, coupled with their wintry interaction is enough to make my skin crawl.
I’m instantly grateful for my parents.
Her head jerks with surprise, her diamond earrings glinting in the sunlight slanting through the front door window. She doesn’t know how to react.
He finally finds his balls and straightens his shoulders. Her hands fall. “I’ve never taken a weekend off,” he reasons. “I need it.”
She tries her best to smile her understanding. “And you’re here,” she says, releasing a tense breath. “I’m so glad you chose to take the weekend off with us, then.”
A beat of awkward silence.
Her blue eyes, the same shade of faded denim as Jake’s, watch as he bends to pick up the duffle bag by his feet. “I’m guessing Curtiss is handling your sponsors and the press?”
“He is.”
That seems to ease her into acceptance. Mostly.
“And this is Scarlett,” he says, nodding in my direction.
She finally acknowledges my presence again and turns to face me. “Scarlett,” she says, her hand clutching the brooch on her scarf. I expect she’ll say something like, how rude of me to not speak to you. But she doesn’t. Her gaze roams over me as if she hadn’t already gotten a good look. “Welcome.” Her voice softens at the word, but the tension in her features tells me there are undercurrents of something more—confusion. Skepticism.
Not that I can blame her. She should be skeptical of me. From what I know of her and her daughter, she’s not a stupid woman. Ruthless, maybe. Controlling. Probably even sociopathic, according to what Meaghan alleges about the two of them, but they’re not dumb, and I can only imagine what she’s thinking. Her son suddenly shows up, plays hooky for the first time in his entire Nascar career, and brings someone with him she’s never met.
She’s trying to make as much sense of the situation, of me, as I am of her.
“Thank you for having me,” I reply.
She consults with her wristwatch. “It’s only four,” she announces. “Dinner is at five.”
Jake motions to me while her head is down. “Great,” he says and starts for the hallway. “Mind setting two more places?”
“Of course, darling.” She nods at the butler in the shadows.
He scurries off.
I take the opportunity to follow after Jake, but Magnolia catches on and spins to walk the hallway with us. “You two can settle in here,” she says, stopping at the first door on the left.
My lips part to correct her assumption, we’re not here as a couple, but Jake interrupts. “Thanks, mother,” he says, and wheels my suitcase in.
She follows.
“Settle in now,” she says, watching him in adoration as he finds a home for our luggage. “We can catch up at dinner. There are some things I need to tend to in the meantime.”
I just stand there in the doorway, feeling more like a decoration than a welcomed guest, unsure of what to do or how to correct this. Did he forget I was coming as his ‘friend’?
I then crane my neck to get a better look. Maybe there are two beds. Please tell me there are two beds. Not that it’s any better, but nope. Just the one queen-size.
