Forgiving Lies (Forgiving Lies #1)(97)
Mrs. Ryan’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline and Kash tried to choke back his laugh but failed miserably. It felt like my stomach was simultaneously on fire and dropping. Not a good feeling, I was going to be sick. I was the freaking Queen of first impressions with the Ryan family. When I’d met Kash at the beginning of last summer, I’d been a bitch to the extreme and our first three run-ins had gone over about as well as a bale of turtles in a sprinting race. Now there I was cussing in front of his mom in the first seconds of ever seeing her.
I started feeling lightheaded as I held my breath waiting for Mrs. Ryan to tell me I was not good enough for her son, or to reprimand me. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and leveled a glare at Kash that impressed even me.
“What on earth did you say to the poor girl?”
He raised his hands in surrender before wrapping his arm around me again. “No clue what you’re talking about. And why do you automatically think it had to be something I did?”
“Because I know you, Logan.”
“Eh . . . so anyway. Mom, this is Rachel. Rachel, this is my mom.”
She brushed back a chunk of black hair that had fallen into her eyes and smiled brightly at me. I still felt like I was frozen and didn’t know how to breathe properly. “Rachel, it’s so good to meet you, honey!”
I almost blurted out, “But I just called your son an * right in front of you!” Instead, I plastered a smile on my face and tried to relax my body as Kash let go of me and she wrapped me in a hug. “It’s nice to meet you too. Thank you for having us for dinner.”
“Of course”—and then softer so only I could hear—“he gets the obnoxious, * gene from his father. But, unfortunately, its one of the things I love most about my guys. You just get used to it and become a master at slyly flipping them off with a smile.”
My eyes widened and I blinked rapidly as we pulled away from each other. Is she being serious?
She smiled at me again and kissed Kash on the cheek before slapping his shoulder. “Be nice to her, she just got here! But always remember this, honey, the minute Richard and Logan stop giving you a hard time, is the minute they stop loving you. So, as long as he’s pissing you off, you know he loves you. Now come on, your dad just started the grill and I’m going to make margaritas for Rachel and me. Oh, do you like margaritas?”
I nodded and then had to shake my head to get my mind working properly again. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I do, I love them.”
“Well then, I think we’re going to get along just fine. C’mon, now!” She turned and walked into the house, and Kash pulled me into his side, his lips going to my ear.
“Now was that so bad?”
“Aside from the fact that the first time your mom saw me, I was cussing . . . I think I just fell in love with her.”
He laughed low and pulled me into the house. “Just wait ’til you meet my dad.”
1
Kash
“RACH, DO YOU really need this many shoes?” I watched as she unpacked the third box in our closet, and wondered how any person could ever have a need for that many pairs of shoes.
Her hand stopped mid-way to the shelf with another pair, and her bright blue glare turned on me. I took a step back.
“Are you actually asking me that right now?”
“Say no,” my dad whispered from behind me. “ ’Course it wasn’t, Rachel. He’s just mad that he won’t have anywhere to put his sparkly hooker heels.”
Rachel laughed and went back to putting her dozens of shoes away. “No worries about that one, Rich. I put them up already, they even have their own little place away from everything so they don’t get ruined.”
My mom pushed through Dad and me to get into the closet with an armful of clothes to hang up. “Really, Logan. Give the girl a break, I have more shoes than this.”
“Oh, Marcy! I forgot to tell you—”
“Is this gonna be a long story?” Dad drawled, cutting Rachel off.
“Actually, it is,” she snapped right back with a playful smirk. “So get comfy!” As soon as she launched into her story about whatever the hell those two always talked excitedly about, my dad turned and gave me a shove.
“Have I taught you nothing when it comes to women?” he asked softly.
“What? That’s a shit ton of shoes!” I hissed and looked back to see her pull more out. I swear this last box was like Mary Poppins’s purse. It was a never-ending pit of shoes.
“Okay, we’re gonna do this quick and easy. One, your woman can never have too many shoes, clothes, purses or jewelry. Two, it doesn’t matter if you know you’re right—because God knows your mother is wrong about . . . well . . . just about everything—but it doesn’t matter. They are always right. Just say a simple, ‘Yes sweetheart, I’m sorry I’m a dumbass’ and you’ll be fine. Three, them asking if they look okay is a trick question. Because, let’s face it, even if we think it’s the ugliest shirt we’ve ever seen, it’s probably in style and we wouldn’t know either way. So they always look amazing, remember that word.”
I laughed. Rachel did always look amazing. She could wear a sack and I would think that . . . or nothing. I preferred her in nothing.
“Four, and probably the most important if you want to keep your manhood, do not ever ask if she is PMS-ing. No matter what. Might as well dig your own grave if you do that.”