Breathe (Colorado Mountain #4)(134)

I moved quickly into her arms in order to conserve space and gave her a tight hug.

“Mrs. Keaton,” I whispered in her ear then pulled back but not out of her arms. “Chace talks about you all the time. I’m so pleased to finally meet you.”

She dipped her chin bashfully and fluttered her eyes and really, even though she was older, she worked it.

Then her eyes moved over me and something changed in them that wasn’t bad but it wasn’t altogether good either.

“You’re a beauty. A true beauty. Natural.” Her arm left me and her hand lifted as if she was going to touch my hair before it fell away and she moved minutely back. “Red. I thought a blonde would suit Chace better but I was very wrong.”

“Thank you,” I murmured.

“And please, call me Valerie. Mrs. Keaton sounds so… so…” her eyes slid to the side before coming back to me so she could finish, “stuffy.”

“Valerie it is then,” I replied on a smile.

“Ma, you think we could move inside?” Chace prompted.

She jumped away from me, clasping her hands in front of her and I fought the urge to reach out to her in case she tumbled over the step to the inside.

“Of course, of course, let’s get you inside and those coats off. I’m dying to see Faye’s dress. From what I can see, it looks beautiful.”

I heard Chace sigh as I felt his fingers curl around my elbow, we moved in behind her and all stopped in a huge foyer with a massive chandelier hanging down over it, the gazillions of crystals dancing prisms everywhere.

“Enrique,” she said to a man wearing a white shirt and dark slacks standing close by, “please take Faye and Chace’s coats. We’ll take drinks in the sitting room. Faye, what would you like to drink?”

Chace was helping me out of my long, cream wool coat as I shifted my little black clutch from hand to hand and answered, “A glass of white wine.”

“Excellent,” she smiled at me then her eyes went to Chace, “Beer, darling?”

“Yeah, Ma,” Chace muttered, handing our coats to Enrique.

Taking in Chace without his long, wool black overcoat, the skirt around my hips, hand down my panties orgasm, I had to admit, was helped by the fact he was in a very well-tailored, dark blue suit with an open-necked blue shirt the color of his eyes. His belt buckle with the suit was subdued western but still western and the cowboy boots were all Chace. Still, like his mother and I, he made an effort and, as was his way, succeeded wildly.

Enrique moving off with our coats, Valerie led the way to the “sitting room” which was the most formal room I’d ever been in in my life. It was done in soft pinks that were nearly cream and just plain creams. Even in a room that formal I took my cue from Valerie and Chace who settled in like it was your everyday family room, Valerie in an armchair, Chace and I side by side on a couch.

As I was tucking my purse next to me, Valerie said, “I didn’t know what you liked, Faye, and Chace told me you seemed to like everything except pineapple on pizza. But we’re not having pizza so I told Donatta to do it up but avoid pineapple. I hope you brought your appetite.”

“I always do,” I replied on a smile. “But just so you know, I like pineapple just not on pizza.”

“Excellent!” she cried with more excitement than was needed then clasped her hands in front of her again and leaned from her pinky-cream armchair toward Chace and me on the creamy-cream couch and she noted, “Chace tells me you’re a librarian.”

“I am,” I confirmed.

To which she exclaimed, “I love books!”

I laughed softly and shared, “I do too. It’s kind of important to like them when you spend all day around them. What’s your favorite book?”

This was a mistake. Huge. Though I couldn’t fathom why.

Still, I saw it. She sat back sharply, her face grew pale, the fingers of her hands in front of her started fidgeting, her eyes darted to Chace and she looked suddenly terrified.

I felt my body get stiff at her reaction but Chace prompted quietly, “Your favorite book, Ma.”

Her eyes skittered to me then back to Chace and she whispered, “I…” but stopped.

It then occurred to me that she was worried what her favorite book would say about her. She wanted me to like her and she wanted this so much, she was terrified of just being her.

“I have lots of favorite books,” I cut in and her eyes came back to me so I smiled gently and went on, “Let’s see, there’s Rosamund Pilcher’s The Shell Seekers and Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood. Then there’s Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café by Fannie Flagg and Skinny Legs and All by Tom Robbins. I could go on and bore you for hours,” I told her. “And I haven’t even started on the romance novels.”

The fear left her face and she leaned toward me again. “Oo, I like Carly Phillips.”

I leaned toward her, smiling big. “I do too. She’s awesome. The Bachelor,” I told her one of my favorites.

“The Playboy.” She gave me one of hers.

“The Heartbreaker.” I one-upped her.

She sat back again but this time grinning, “Those Chandler brothers…” she trailed off needing to say no more.

“I know,” I agreed.