LOL: Laugh Out Loud (After Oscar, #2)(69)

“We’ll just make sure she won’t have anything interesting to share with the press,” I told him. “The worst she’ll be able to do is give them my location, and while that would suck, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

“But your sister and her family are here,” he pointed out. “What if one of them says something they shouldn’t?”

“My sister knows better than to share personal details about me with a stranger. I’m not worried about her.”

Scotty let out a long sigh and pressed his face against my shoulder. “This is a bad idea, Roman.”

I slipped a finger under his chin and tilted his head back. “I’m not going to force you to let her in. She’s your mother, and I’m the last person to dictate your relationship with her. But if we’re going to try this dating thing, I don’t want you to have to choose between us. It’s not fair to you, and I would hate that you cut someone important out of your life just to protect me.”

He pressed his lips together, still considering.

“Hello?” came his mother’s muffled voice again. “Scotty, honey. It’s very cold out here, and it’s late. I’ve already sent the taxi away and don’t have a cell phone to call another.”

He let out a sigh of defeat. “Fine. But can I tell you I told you so ahead of time?”

I brushed a kiss against his forehead and then placed another on his lips. “Of course, baby.” I smiled at him. “You’re not going to regret this. I promise.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Famous last words.”

I reached for the door and swung it open. “My apologies, Mrs. Pinker,” I said. “Come on in.”

Beside me, I heard Scotty grumble, “Suuuuuch a bad idea,” as I stepped to the side to let her pass.

The moment she stepped into view, Scotty forced a smile and raised a hand, twitching his fingers in a half-hearted wave. “Mom. Hi. Sorry. There was a… thing. That… got in the way. Of the door. Anyway. Hiyeee.”

At the sight of her son, Scotty’s mom exclaimed, “Oh my poor Scottybear missed his mommy,” and pulled him forcibly in for a hug. I noted that he didn’t hug her back, just stood with his arms limp by his sides, a pained expression on his face.

“Nice henhouse. Who’s the fox,” his mom whispered, perhaps louder than she meant to because I didn’t think she’d intended me to hear.

“No. Absolutely not,” Scotty hissed back. “There are no hens, and he is most definitely not a fox. I mean, okay, he’s hot and all,” he corrected. “But not in a foxy way.”

His eyes met mine and I couldn’t help smirking. His cheeks flushed.

His mom ended the embrace and turned to face me. “And who might you be?”

I put on my most polite smile and held out a hand. “Hi, Mrs. Pinker, I’m Roman. Scotty’s—”

“Friend,” Scotty cut in. “He’s a friend.”

She narrowed her eyes, appraising me with a calculated look. “You seem familiar… have we met?”

I ducked my head. “No, ma’am. I’m…uh… an actor. You might have seen me in a movie.” I didn’t know why I was suddenly embarrassed at the admission, but my cheeks flushed anyway.

Her eyes widened comically the moment she recognized me. “Well, aren’t you the sly one, Scotty Pinker,” she said, elbowing him in the side.

“Mom,” he groaned.

She ignored him, stepping forward and taking my outstretched hand. “And it’s not Mrs. Pinker, Roman. I was never married to Scotty’s daddy. I’m Cyndee Brady. And no, not that one. Mine is spelled with a y and two e’s.”

I should have remembered that from when I’d filled out the money transfer the day before, but Scotty had been rolling my balls in his hand at the time, and, well, things had gotten fuzzy after that.

I cleared my throat. “My apologies, Ms. Brady.” I held out an arm, gesturing to the house around us. “Welcome. Please, make yourself at home.”

“Or not,” Scotty said, stepping up to fit his arm through hers and steering her toward the staircase. “I’m sure you’re exhausted and want nothing more than to go to bed, so I’ll just take you straight there.”

She dug her heels in. “No need to be hasty. It’s been a long day and I could go for a bite to eat.”

Scotty closed his eyes and blew out a breath. “Fine. Eat and then bed.” He turned and started tugging her toward the kitchen, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be rushed.

“This is a beautiful house,” she said, eyeing the dining room as Scotty dragged her past it. “Is it yours, Roman?”

“No, ma’am,” I told her. “It belongs to a friend. He’s letting us stay for a while.”

“Hmmmm… shame,” she said.

When we reached the kitchen, Scotty steered his mother toward one of the stools at the counter and ordered her to sit. He then moved to the fridge and started digging around for leftovers. I grabbed a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with ice water for her.

“So, Roman,” she said, eyeing me. “Tell me a little about yourself. I assume all the nonsense in the tabloids isn’t true. What are you really like?”