Page 21 of Protecting my Zinnia

We've barely walked into the living room when I hear a "tsk tsk" sound. "Evan, are you serious? Renee is just driving to Oakton. I'm only going to be alone for a few hours. I don't need a babysitter."

Evan's mother shakes her head, tossing black curls with a hint of white at the temples. Although she's just wearing comfortable green track pants and a sweater, her makeup is done carefully and she's wearing beautiful sculpted gold hoop earrings.

I love her immediately and the saucy way she pretends to glare at Evan.

"Mom, this is my good friend, Zinnia."

Coming closer, I reach out to shake her hand. "Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Harris."

She shakes my hand while waving the other one dismissively. "Please. It's Cora."

She starts to get up, but Evan sets her hand on her shoulder, pressing her gently but insistently back down. "Mom, Renee already said that you took a shower and did your physio today. That's enough."

Cora awkwardly puts her hands on her hips. "How am I supposed to make tea for my guest if you won't let me get up?"

Poor Evan looks completely lost. Taking him by the arm, I gently shove him toward the door. "Go get your job done."

He chuckles, slumping as if he's deflated. "Yes, dear," he murmurs so that only I can hear.

As I return to the living room, Cora is laughing merrily. "I've always hoped that Evan would find a nice girl. And here you are, someone who I can already tell can put him in his place. Good for you."

"We aren't… I mean, it hasn't been very long. We'll see."

"Pfft. I saw the way you two look at each other. It's a done deal."

She holds out her hand. "Now, help me up and we'll go to the kitchen to do some baking. Nobody else will let me. It's been driving me nuts."

We reach a compromise. She's allowed to sit at the kitchen island as long as I fetch everything she needs, and do anything that requires standing.

We click immediately, and Cora seems amused to have an assistant. As she sits on a stool, kneading the dough for almond shortbread, I remark, "So, I've noticed Evan's pretty overprotective."

Her bright brown eyes look at me carefully, as if analyzing what I'm thinking. "There are many different kinds of men in this world," she says, watching me closely even as her hands are moving like lightning, working the dough. "There are controlling men who want to diminish a woman's power. To make her feel small, so that he can feel big. Complete balderdash, of course."

"That would be my father," I mutter.

She smiles warmly. "And then there are men like Evan. When his father left, my son stepped up and became the man of the house. He saw what I went through on my own, and what my friend Renee went through when her husband died. Evan has always stepped up. Always been the one to take care of things. To the point that he feels responsible for every woman's safety."

I exhale loudly. "That explains a lot."

"His freakish control thing comes from a place of love, I promise you," she says. Then she rolls her eyes dramatically. "I'll bet he thinks my car accident that put me in this sorry state is his fault because I was driving in the rain, instead of letting him come pick me up."

Oh, wow. Light. Bulb. On.

She grins. "But Evan cooks. Never be with a man who doesn't cook, Zinnia. My husband didn't and he was a mess. Cooking helps you understand life. The balance, the temperamental bits, the fussiness. Men who are useless in the kitchen will never really get it." She taps her temple.

"My Dad has never cooked," I grin. "That explains a few more things."

The topic turns to my family, and by the time I'm pulling kourabiethes and karythopita out of the oven, Cora has declared my father a total asshole for trying to make me move away.

Her eagle eye doesn't miss my slight sniffle. "Honey, do you have flour in your nose, or are you upset that I insulted your dad?"

"Neither," I smile. "I'm just realizing that I've never actually baked before with a Mom type."

"Oh, sweetie." She wipes off her hands, then waves me over for a giant hug. "We women have to stick together to keep the menfolk in line," she laughs. "If your Dad is a control freak, and you have no other parent around, do you want me to step in to settle his hash?"

I snort, laughing as I step away to start wiping down the counter. "Thank you, but I can't ask you to do that."

Her eyes dance. "Honey, I've just spent a few weeks being bossed around by male doctors,followed by my sweet but pushy son babying me. I would adore telling somebody off right about now."