Not My Romeo (The Game Changers #1)(77)

Oh, smart. Blanket statement that covers the DUI and the partying . . .

“That book some girl wrote about you. I read part of it. It was terrible!”

I close my eyes.

“No, ma’am. Not true. She just wanted money, and people love to talk about me. I tend to not say anything back, and it drives them crazy.”

“Because you’re famous.” Mama puts her hands on her hips. Wearing old jogging pants and a T-shirt with the pink Cut ’N’ Curl logo on the front, she’s not dressed in her usual slacks and blazer, but you’d never know it by her regal stance.

“I just play football.”

Oh, Jack. Please. You’re famous.

“Well, I never heard of you,” Mama retorts. “We never even had a football team here in Daisy. School is too small.”

Devon laughs. “Even me, Mrs. Riley? You’ve heard of me, right?”

She swivels her head to him, probably eyeballing the hair, tattoos that peek out from his sleeves, and those black earrings. “No, but you’re memorable. What color is that in your hair? You need to come see me. I’ll fix it.”

He laughs. “Devon Walsh, wide receiver. Pleasure to meet Elena and Giselle’s mom. Nice girls you have.” He takes her hand and kisses it.

She blinks.

Young James Bond steps forward, all brawn and blond. Even today, he’s dressed in a black turtleneck and dark jeans. “I’m Quinn, ma’am. I do security for Jack. Beautiful property here. Love the town. Jack drove us around for a few and showed us the sights.”

The sights?

Mama starts. “Security? Bless. Do you carry a gun?”

Quinn laughs, looking at Jack. “No. I usually just stock his fridge and arrange his schedule, stuff like that.”

“Well, that must be boring.”

Mama!

“Keeps me busy and out of trouble, ma’am. Jack and I are sort of foster brothers.”

“I see.” She lasers in on Aiden. “And you?”

“Aiden Woods. Best quarterback on the team.” He shakes her hand.

“Watch it, Alabama,” Jack murmurs. “You’re only here to be of use. I can send you home at any time.”

Aiden smiles sheepishly, nudging his head at Jack. “He’s better than me. For now.”

Mama takes it all in, her foot tapping, before turning back to Jack. I can’t see her face, but I know she’s sizing him up, deciding if he’s to her taste. She’s playing back all that stuff she read online, the book, probably recalling how he went to Timmy’s school.

I hold my breath, waiting for her reply.

If she calls him a hayseed . . .

He fidgets as he shifts from one foot to the next, color rising on his cheeks as she stares at him. His eyes land on me again, and I shake my head at him. Mama has you in her sights, my eyes say. Beware!

She lets out a long exhale. “Well, about those things I read . . . gossip is a terrible thing. Ruins lives. People need better things to do with their time. I appreciate everything you’ve done for Timmy and Laura. I heard you bought back their house she lost when her husband died. I’m sure you didn’t have to do that.”

My eyes flare. He did that? How does she know?

She knows everything . . .

“Stop stalling. Cynthia is scary.” Aunt Clara pokes me in the back. “You better get down there before she runs them off.”

She wouldn’t!

She might . . .

Topher laughs from the front swing, where he’s sat down. Wearing old jeans and a faded Queen shirt, he’s taking it all in. “Ms. Clark and Birdie Walker have driven by the house twice since they pulled in. Lunchtime in Daisy is causing a traffic jam. Guess it’s hard to miss an Escalade, Range Rover, and the red Maserati. Wonder who that belongs to? I’m betting Mohawk.”

“Cars and people driving by are not the issue! There are four football players in my yard, and I don’t know why,” I exclaim.

“I know. It’s awesome.” He grins. “We haven’t had this much excitement here since, well, never. I should go get my diary and jot this down. Good material. Maybe take some pics.” He sighs. “Although you did leave that pie at his place. I should hate him for that.”

“You aren’t moving a muscle. I might need you.” I go down the steps toward Mama but hang back a few paces, wavering as I pretend to bend down to tie my shoe. I’m totally waiting to see how Jack handles Mama, and vice versa.

Why is he here?

Why am I so nervous?

Mama sweeps her eyes over the four men. “Well, why are y’all here?”

It’s as if she reads my mind. Dammit, is it true that you eventually turn into your mother the older you get? No, absolutely not. Please no.

Jack flashes a smile. “To work. Elena mentioned you had a party to get ready for, and she had a lot to do. Said she couldn’t have dinner with me.”

I stand; color blooms on my face. How dare he tell her that? Doesn’t he know that once she knows we are . . . whatever we are . . . then she’s never going to leave him be?

“Well, if there’s no time for dinner, there is always time for lunch on Sunday,” she declares.

Fell right into that one! I glare at Jack.

Giselle and Aunt Clara appear next to me. Like me, they’re in sweats, no makeup, and bad hair. At least I’m not alone as we slowly inch closer.