Page 35

“You ready for this?”

I nodded, and we traded grins.

I followed him to the door that led into the house from the garage. He looked behind and gave me one last grin before he opened the door.

“Hey, Mom,” he said as we entered. The aroma of the lasagna hit me immediately and my mouth started to water. Signs of the day’s cooking showed with a stack of pans in the sink and splatters of sauce on the stove top. She stood at the sink working on the stack.

“Kyle. Hello. I’d say sorry about the mess, but I’m not because it was worth it.” She grinned as she dried her hands. I saw aspects of Kyle in her face, especially her nose, mouth, and cheeks as well as the dark hair. She came over and hugged Kyle followed by a quick kiss on his cheek. “And you must be Austin. Good to meet you. I am a hugger. Is that okay?”

She waited a beat, and I appreciated that I had the opportunity to decline but no way I’d refuse a hug from this vibrant person. I opened my arms, and we had a brief, warm hug. Happiness rolled over me. I’d only been here a minute but I knew this house radiated love and contentment. That feeling started with her and had to be where Kyle got it.

“Good to meet you as well, Mrs. Pressgrove.”

She waved her hand in front of her. “None of that. You can either call me Greta or Mamma P like Kyle’s bestie Garrett does.”

I gave a nod. “Okay, Greta it is.” It didn’t feel right going right to the name Garrett used while Kyle and I were still early in our relationship. It’d be awesome to use it one day though.

“What are you two up to tonight?”

“Well, first thing is going to be some amazing lasagna—I’ve talked it up on the way here—and then probably chill with something on TV.”

“It’s hard to beat quiet nights like that.”

“Since you’re feeding us, why don’t we finish the cleanup?” I hoped Kyle wouldn’t mind that I took the liberty on that, but it seemed the least we could do.

“Great idea.” He took off his coat, and I did the same. He hung them on hooks by the door while I pushed up my sleeves and headed to the sink.

“Oh. I like this one.” She touched my forearm and smiled as I passed. He didn’t seem to mind the remark, and I certainly didn’t. I got the Mom Thumbs Up.

Kyle washed and I dried. We put dishes away as we went, with his mom sitting at the island directing me where to put things. In between, we talked about the hockey season and even about the possible trade.

“You seem awfully calm about all this,” Greta said with a bit of a mom tone.

“I don’t want to go, but unless I’m going to quit, there’s not much I can do.”

“I’d prepared for a tantrum.” I caught the slightly evil glint in her eye as I went from cupboard back to the sink.

“Seriously, Mom?” Kyle whirled around from the sink, sponge dripping on the floor. The mortified look on his face was priceless—you’d think she’d brought out baby pictures. “You say that in front of the first guy I’ve brought home in ages.”

My heart leapt once again to be referred to that way. He hadn’t said boyfriend, but it hovered so near that designation.

“If he doesn’t know already, he should know the moods you have.” They exchanged smirks. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

She pivoted to the safer topic of what I did for work.

I loved meeting his Mom. He’d been right, very low stress—even as she picked on him a bit. As we left, I really wanted to get to the point that I could call her Mamma P.

NINETEEN

KYLE

“SHOULD I have called you boyfriend earlier?” I dropped the question while I served up the lasagna. Austin assembled small salads since I had some makings in the fridge, and I probably just made the whole thing awkward. “I wasn’t sure. We were talking about guys I’d brought home and that usually means boyfriend but—”

“It was fine.” He looked at me, pausing his dicing. I quietly let out a breath of relief. “You could if you wanted to though.”

I reached out for his hand, taking it in mine. He squeezed once and my insides got all fluttery at the show of affection. The fluttering happened a lot lately, sometimes just thinking about him could induce the feeling.

“We could make it official?” I got my phone off the counter. “It can be a twofer—I can call you my boyfriend, and Bobby can be jealous I’ve got lasagna and he doesn’t.”