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“Yeah?” I pretend to be busy eating, toying with my food.
“Dylan, I was sorry to hear about your father,” Tessa’s mother says, catching me by surprise—not so much at the words spoken as at the emotion they convey.
I look up and find her studying me, her eyes kind. “Thank you.”
“Tessa told me a lot about you.”
“Yeah?”
“Good things,” Tessa says, correctly interpreting my horrified gaze. “Promise.”
“She says you’re a quarterback.”
Used to be. The words are on the tip of my tongue—but Coach says I can go back to training as soon as I feel better, and he has a funding plan lined up for me, so who knows? “Yes, Mrs. Leon.”
“Please, call me Karen.”
I glance sideways at Tessa, hoping for guidance, and she nods, her eyes sparkling. “Karen. Fine.”
“And you’ve been taking care of your two little brothers.”
“Yeah,” I say, not sure where this is going.
“And you can cook. And most importantly, you went into a burning house to pull my daughter out.”
“Yes.” She doesn’t make it sound bad, but I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Well.” She leans forward, smiling, and raises her wine glass. “I think you sound like a great guy, Dylan Hayes. Obviously my daughter has really good taste in men, much better than her mother’s.”
Tessa raises her glass too, grinning at me, and I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from the shock. Tessa’s mom—Karen—just approved of me.
A weight lifts off my shoulders, and when Tessa elbows me in the ribs, I raise my water glass and offer a smile.
A historical moment. God, I could sure use a stiff drink right about now.
***
Karen leaves just before midnight, and I’m surprised to realize I’ve had fun with her. She was nice to me, polite, and as it turns out, she can be quite funny after two glasses of red wine.
She reminds me of Tessa, so I give in. I like Karen Leon. Leaving her husband seems to have made a huge difference.
And Tessa looks pleased. Even more so since her mom told us that motherfucker, Sean, has returned to England and won’t be bothering Tessa again.
If he ever dares come back, I’ll be waiting for him with my fists ready for hurting her.
I watch Tess gather the dishes from the table as I put the food leftovers into the fridge. A faint smile lingers on her lips. I close the fridge and just look at her, at the sexy way that red blouse clings to her curves, the jeans molding to the flare of her hips and long legs. Her cleavage dips as she reaches over the table to snag a glass, showing a hint of her lacy bra. Her hair spills over one shoulder, a heavy gold wave, showing off the pale line of her neck.
My body goes haywire, signals firing on every nerve ending. My cock hardens so fast it gets jammed sideways in my pants, so that I have to reach down and straighten it, and my insides clench with a force that almost drives me to my knees.
Instant ignition. Goddammit, I’ve behaved this whole evening. Enough.
When she straightens, a tower of dishes in her hands, I jump her. She squeals when I suddenly grab her around the waist, and I reach around her just in time to rescue the dishes and place them on the table.
“Leave them,” I growl in her ear and return my hands where they should be—on her breasts, pushing them together, making her moan. “This is more urgent.”
And I show her how urgent it is by pressing my hard-on against her delicious ass and pulling her to me until her back bows. My teeth graze the pulse on her neck.
“Dylan…” she moans my name. Her nipples are hard under the layers of fabric, pushing into my palms like pebbles. “Bedroom?”
