Page 63 of Legs

I shook out my silk tank top, hoping to staunch the gathering sweat. “Ready as I’ll ever be. I mean, it’s not like it’ll change anything, right? You won’t get freaked out and realize my family is nuts and decide you’re not into me and erase my number from your phone and never—”

His lips landed on mine, a deep kiss following. He always kissed me like this. Like I was his oxygen. He nipped my bottom lip. “No matter what, nothing will change. I’m here for you.”

Still, my nerves lingered.

Stanley was the first to greet us. She slammed into my legs and wagged her tail, grinning.

Jimmy sat on his heels and rubbed her cropped sides. “What’s your name?” he cooed as he stroked her. His attractiveness jumped ten notches.

“Stanley,” I said, although she looked like an imposter. She normally had crimped brown fur, like an eighties rock star, all of it a few inches long. My mother must have taken her to the groomers. Aside from her head, the rest of her was clipped so short, her skin shone.

He scratched her ears. “You’re a cute boy, Stanley, even though your haircut is dog ugly.”

Stanley wagged her tail, unconcerned by Jimmy’s insult. “You just told my dog she was a boy and called her ugly. Great first impression.”

He looked up at me, eyebrows raised. “You named your girl dog Stanley?”

On cue, Stanley shoved her nose in Jimmy’s crotch. He grabbed her collar. “Hey, there, Stan. Maybe leave the boys alone.”

Stanley liked what she smelled and dug her nose in farther. Smart puppy. “Did you put bacon in your pants? Because Stanley loves bacon and if you shoved some down there, she’ll be glued to your nuts.”

With one hand, he held Stanley at a distance. His other crept under my gray skirt, between my thighs. “You want to check?”

Did I ever. My passion for Bad Boy had only grown. One look, one touch, and I was one hot flash from mauling him. Unfortunately my mother’s front hall was neither the time nor the place. Especially when she chose that precise moment to greet us.

“Rachel, I didn’t hear you…”

Jimmy yanked his hand from under my skirt and stood. Stanley rubbed against his leg. I nearly fainted. My mother pursed her lips.

“Am I interrupting?” Her eyes danced the length of Jimmy, taking in his tattooed arms. Her expression soured, as though she’d chugged expired milk. Not a good start.

“Ma, this is Jimmy—my boyfriend. Jimmy, this is my mother, Lydia Kates.”

He dragged his palm down the side of his jeans and stepped forward, extending his hand. “Mrs. Kates, it’s a pleasure.”

Her attention darted from his hand to his face to me, returning for another circuit. Color rose to her cheeks. “It’s lovely to meet you.” She offered him a limp handshake. “Rachel, do you mind helping me in the kitchen? Jimmy can join Mitchell and Cora in the living room.”

The woman didn’t waste time. I pointed Jimmy through the archway. He squeezed my hip as he passed—a gesture of solidarity. A bulletproof vest would have been preferable.

My mother strutted down the hallway, each slap of her ballet flats punctuating her distaste. I followed, steeling my nerves.

She’d renovated the kitchen last year, a project that had kept her occupied. Large windows filtered light onto the new seating area. She’d updated the appliances and had added gray subway tiles, the all-white cabinetry trimmed to match the crown moldings. My father would have loved it.

What he would not have loved was the tension hanging between us.

My mother gripped the center island with one hand. She pressed the back of her other to her forehead, as though she’d sprung a fever. “What was that?”

Before answering, I closed the sliding pocket door to the dining/living area. I crossed my arms and faced her. “What was what?”

“That.” She gestured wildly. “That man. When you said you’d met someone and wanted to bring him home, I was thrilled. Pleased you were moving forward in one area of your life. Then you show up with…him? Does he even have a job? Is he one of those street performers?”

My limbs locked, my teeth clamped so roughly my jaw hurt. “His name is Jimmy, not him, and yes, he has a job. He’s a bartender.”

“Bartender?”

“Bartender.”

She swayed, a minute from fainting. “Lord, where did I go wrong?”