Jack grinned. “Thanks.”
The clacking of the screen door was the last sound she heard. She’d never realized it before, but silence had a weight, and about a thousand pounds of it was bearing down on her. Mrs. McBride busied herself with slowly washing the dishes. This isn’t good. Emily cleared her throat, not sure the woman realized she was still standing there. Mrs. McBride didn’t turn. Okay.
Emily forced a smile and walked to the sink. “Can I help?” Emily looked around for a towel to dry.
“I’ve got this.” She placed another dish on the drying rack. “You can make the salad.”
“I’m great at salads.” Emily wished she’d stayed home.
“Everything’s washed and in the refrigerator.” Mrs. McBride sighed.
Emily opened the refrigerator and grabbed the lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots, radishes, and onions.
“Cutting board is on the table.” Mrs. McBride handed her a knife and a large bowl.
“Thanks.” Emily broke up the lettuce into bite-sized pieces. Her leg ached; she must’ve fucked Jack too hard this morning. Don’t think about sex around Jack’s mother.
A thousand pounds turned into a million. Emily continued cutting and chopping vegetables while Mrs. McBride checked the roast, turned the potatoes, stirred a sauce, put a kettle on to boil, and did pretty much anything else so she didn’t have to talk to or look at Emily.
“How long have you been seeing my son?”
Oh, God. Emily put the knife down. Mrs. McBride stood opposite her. She lifted her head to meet the woman’s cold green eyes. “Thursday night.”
Shock ripped across her face. Her lips tightened. The high-pitched whistle from the kettle broke the silence. Mrs. McBride turned off the stove and poured the water into a cup.
Emily braced herself. She wouldn’t lie.
Mrs. McBride turned to her, meeting her eyes. “You’re sleeping with my son.”
It wasn’t a question, so she didn’t answer. Emily wished she’d stop calling Jack her son. It made her feel like she was robbing the cradle. Which was stupid because Jack was a grown man, and Emily was pretty sure he was older than her, but she should know how old he was. Wherein lay the problem. They should know more about each other than what got the other off. She couldn’t stop the blush from creeping up her cheeks. Damn fair skin. Emily picked up the knife and resumed chopping. Better than throwing.
“He’s in love with you.”
Emily’s head snapped up. “Yes.” Kudos to Mrs. McBride; she knew her son well.
“You’re not in love with him.” It was an accusation. In one sentence, she’d gone from disgusted to indignant.
“No.”
“Why not?” Maggie huffed. “He’s a wonderful young man.”
“We just met.”
“That hasn’t stopped him.” Her eyes narrowed, and her lips were tight.
Emily set the knife down on the table and stood. “My life is…complicated.”
“Everyone’s life is complicated.”
Emily growled in frustration. Now she knew where Jack got his tenacity from. And his complete lack of caring if it was any of his damn business. Fuck. “Until three weeks ago, I was engaged.”
“Mom, what the fuck?” Jack asked.
Emily jumped at the sound of his voice. She hadn’t heard the screen door open. Jack glared at his mom, and Will and Jimmy stared at her open-mouthed. Just. Fucking. Great.
Will smacked Jack upside the head.
Behind Jack’s mother stood Jack’s sister and her boyfriend. Great, two more strangers to witness her utter humiliation. The crush of emotion sent tears to her eyes. Emily needed to get out of here. She was sweating, and her face burned, but she absolutely refused to cry in front of Jack’s family. She couldn’t have written this any worse. “I need some air.” She walked toward the kitchen door, and Will and Jimmy stepped out of her path.
Jack grabbed her arm. “Em, don’t.”
She looked up at him, and Jack flinched. “I need a few minutes.”
“I’ll come—”
“No.” He looked hurt, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t, recount that awful conversation to him. She had no idea how much they’d overheard.
Jack nodded curtly and strode into the living room. Before she reached the door, he stopped her. “Take your phone.”
She gave him a weak smile, took the phone, and muttered, “Thanks.” She opened the screen door and escaped.
Tap to grab No More Yesterdays
*****
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About the Author
Jessica Marlowe has always loved reading. Inspired by a story that wouldn’t let her go, she has written her first three books. She loves music (especially hard rock), animals (all kinds), autumn trees and jacket-weather walks, naps (after all that walking), and wine (certainly unrelated to napping).
As a side hustle, Jessica writes instruction manuals for glamping equipment. Just kidding.
Jessica is the author of the wildly popular Rocked in Love rock star romance series.
(What? It could happen
With You: A Rock Star Romance (Rocked in Love Book 1) Page 31
