Taking Connor(57)

“I am now,” Wendy says, squeezing my hand.

“There’s coffee,” I say pointing behind me.

“I’m going to head out and get to work, but thank you anyway.” He nods once at Wendy to say goodbye and rushes out the back door not giving me a second glance.

I frown, wondering what just happened. Is he freaking out? Or is it he’s embarrassed Wendy is here?

“So how was it?” Wendy asks, her previous sad expression having drained from her face, replaced by one of curiosity. She sips her coffee, watching me carefully.

“How was what?” I get up and head to the fridge, pulling out some fruit I cut up the day before and placing it on the middle of the table. Grabbing two forks, I plop back down in my seat beside her.

“I know he was upstairs. And I want to know everything.”

“Nothing happened,” I mumble around a piece of cantaloupe. “Just two people sleeping.”

“So you guys are . . . together? What happened to Vick?”

“A wife and kids happened,” I snort.

“What?”

Wendy stays an hour, and I explain the Vick drama, and where things are with Connor. According to her, she knew Connor and I would end up together all along.

“We’re not together,” I point out. “I don’t know what we are, actually,” I say thoughtfully. “I guess we’re feeling things out.”

“Well, keep me posted,” Wendy adds.

“Can I get the girls tonight? I’ll keep them until tomorrow evening.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Wendy sighs. “McKenzie is driving me nuts. I swear teenage girls are the devil.”

We hug once more, and I tell her, “Bring them over around two, okay.”

“Sure thing. See ya then.”

I clean up the dishes and fruit and head upstairs to shower and dress. When I come back down, I look in my fridge to see what I need for the girls tonight. I’m short on everything. When the screen door creaks and slams shut, I jump.

“Sorry,” Connor says, holding his hands up. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” I shut the fridge and face him as he leans against my counter.

“You rushed out mighty fast this morning,” I note.

“Wendy was crying, and I thought I was imposing. And I thought . . . never mind.”

“No. What?”

He scratches the back of his neck and mumbles something.

“What was that?” I ask.

“I thought . . . maybe you woke up and snuck out to avoid me.”

My shoulders droop with his admission. I hurry to him and wrap my arms around his waist. “I came down to make coffee for us.” I chuckle. “I had this romantic idea that we’d snuggle and drink coffee in bed together.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Well, Wendy showed up, and we ended up sitting down to have a much needed chat.”

“Everything okay?” he asks, brushing some hair from my face as she stares into my eyes.

“It is now. But just so you know, I’m very sober right now. And I still want you.”

His arms move around me and squeeze me to him. “Slow and steady,” he whispers as he grazes my cheek with a kiss. “What are your plans today?”

“Actually,” I pull away from him, “I’m keeping the girls tonight.”

“Babysitting. Nice.”

“Wanna join me as I venture into town and buy enough junk food to feed an army?”

“I think I’d like that.”

We decide to make a day of it and stop by to visit Grams. I’m not sure if she could tell by the smiles on our faces when we looked at one another or the way we couldn’t seem to drag our eyes away, but I could tell she knew something was going on between Connor and me because she grinned from ear to ear the entire time and kept waggling her eyebrows at me.

Afterward, we grabbed lunch and went to the grocery store.

“Damn, I loved these when I was a kid. Grams would never buy them.” He holds up a box of Lucky Charms, and I laugh.

“They’re so gross.”

He scoffs at me. “Clearly you have no taste buds.”

“Well, throw it in the cart, good sir. I’m sure the girls will love it too.”

He tosses the box in and rushes me, jerking me up and spinning me, kissing my neck as he does.

“Demi?”

Connor stops spinning us and drops me slowly to my feet as we stare at, none other than, my mother.

Shit.

“Hey, Mom,” I manage to squeak out.

“Hello, yourself,” she mumbles as she cuts Connor a lethal look.

“Mom, this is Connor, Blake’s cousin. Connor, my mother.” I motion my hand between them as I speak, my tone clearly lacking enthusiasm. I just know she’s going to humiliate me.

Connor holds out his hand to shake hers, but she just looks at it, then fixes her gaze on me. My face heats with embarrassment. I can’t believe how rude she is. I mean, I can, she’s an *, but I’m mortified by her behavior.

“It looks like you two are . . . close,” she notes with one judgmentally arched eyebrow.

Looking back at Connor, I smile. He looks severely uncomfortable. “We are,” I boast. I’m proud to admit that, too. Connor Stevens is mine.