“What if she doesn’t like me?”
Keaton dropped a kiss on the tip of Francesca’s nose then turned to the edge of the sidewalk and held out a hand to hail a taxi. “My mum’s going to love you. They all will.”
The streets around Trafalgar Square in central London were bustling, and he kept his fingers intertwined with Francesca’s. He wasn’t going to risk having her swept away in a tide of locals and tourists out on a rare sunny Saturday afternoon.
The truth was he’d had trouble letting Francesca out of his sight since she’d agreed to his proposal a week ago. It was still difficult to believe his beautiful waitress had given him a second chance. The first thing Keaton had done after introducing her to his half siblings was book two tickets for London. He couldn’t wait for his mother to meet the woman he loved with his whole heart. Luckily, Francesca had a long weekend off from classes the first part of February and Lola May had been more than accommodating in switching her shifts.
They’d arrived in London just this morning for a whirlwind weekend. He’d assumed Francesca would be exhausted from taking the red-eye, but she’d been brimming with energy and had insisted on a tour of all of his favorite places in London. They’d managed to visit his flat, the British Museum and several shops in the Bloomsbury neighborhood, along with a tour of Harrods and a quick walk through Hyde Park before stopping to view the iconic stone lions in Trafalgar Square. Now they were headed to his mother’s house to take tea with her and her girlfriends.
A black cab pulled up to the curb and Keaton held the door for Francesca, her blond curls whipping in the brisk winter wind. She pulled down her knit cap as she entered the cab then snuggled close to him when he slid in next to her.
“How did you live through London winters growing up?” she asked for the umpteenth time that day. “I can’t believe how cold it is here.”
“It’s actually warmer than normal thanks to the sunshine. When the weather is gray and misty, the chill seeps into your bones.” He wrapped an arm around Francesca’s shoulder as he gave the driver directions to his mother’s home. “But if cold weather means you’ll cuddle up to me,” he said, pressing a kiss to her rosy cheek, “I think we’ll be planning an Antarctic honeymoon.”
She shivered and wound her hands under his coat and around his waist. “At the beach, I’ll cuddle and wear a bikini,” she told him, her teeth chattering a little as she spoke.
“The beach it is,” he agreed, his mouth going dry at the thought of Francesca in a two-piece bathing suit.
They hadn’t begun to discuss wedding plans, and for now Keaton was content to enjoy the fact that Francesca belonged to him. But he wasn’t going to wait too long. The amount of satisfaction he derived from the thought of joining his life with hers still shocked him, especially after all of the doubts he’d harbored. But as his mother had told him, love could be a magical thing with the right person.
“You have to promise to cut me off if I start babbling to your mom and her friends,” she said.
He shook his head. “I love hearing you talk.”
Francesca let out a little groan. “I’m so nervous I’ll probably spill a cup of tea in her lap.”
“There’s no reason to be nervous, luv. All my mum has ever wanted is for me to be happy. You make me happy.”
She nuzzled her nose against his throat, and Keaton sucked in a breath. “Bloody hell, your nose is as frigid as an ice cube.”
“I’m a native Texan. I wasn’t made for cold weather.” She pressed closer. “I swear I don’t think I’ll ever warm up.”
“Leave that to me,” he said and trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the underside of her jaw.
“Keaton, we’re in a taxi.”
He nipped at her sensitive earlobe. “I’d venture to guess the driver has seen worse.”
With a laugh, she pushed him away. “Save that for later.”
“Later,” he agreed and the thought of feasting on Francesca spread out across the sheets of his huge bed had him stifling a groan.
It was a short ride to the Clapham neighborhood where his mother lived in south London. He pointed out various landmarks and styles of architecture along the way, hoping his incessant talking would distract her.
As soon as the cab pulled up in front of the modest redbrick row house, his mum was out the front door and heading for the sidewalk. Keaton paid the driver then climbed out and swept his mother into a tight hug, her lavender scent enveloping him.
“Mum, I’d like you to meet—”
“The girl who is finally going to give Anita the grandbabies she so desperately wants,” Lydia called from the front porch.
Keaton rolled his eyes at the comment from his mum’s outspoken friend. “This is Francesca Harriman.”
“It’s so nice to meet you, ma’am,” Francesca said and for a moment Keaton wondered if she was going to curtsy to his mother.
“I’m so happy Keaton found you.” Anita took both of Francesca’s hands in hers. “You’re as beautiful as he’s told me.”
A brilliant smile lit Francesca’s face as she reached out and wrapped her arms around Anita.
“Oh, my,” his mother murmured. Londoners weren’t typically known for their effusive greetings.
“Thank you for raising such an amazing man,” Francesca said softly and Keaton heard his mother sniff.
“It was my great pleasure,” she answered. “Let’s get you out of the cold. I can feel you shivering under your jacket.”
“A spot of tea,” Mary Jane called from where she stood next to Lydia and Jessa, “will warm the poor girl right up.”
Keaton smiled as his mother linked arms with Francesca and led her up the cobblestone walk. The women fussed and clucked over Francesca, as enchanted with her Texas accent as the people in Austin had been by Keaton’s London accent when he’d first arrived in America. They were also charmed by the fact that Francesca had brought small gifts for each of them from Austin.
She quickly relaxed and no tea was spilled during the visit. Instead there was much laughter as each of the women shared embarrassing stories of Keaton as a boy.
“She’s lovely,” Anita told him as he helped her refill the tray of pastries in the kitchen. As it turned out, his gorgeous Texan had a taste for the very British combination of scones and Devonshire cream.
“I’m glad you like her,” he said and nipped a bite of a biscuit from the tray.
His mother gently slapped at his hand. “There’s a lightness to you now, Keaton. You were always so determined and driven, but you relax with Francesca.”
“She’s good for me.”
“As is America?”
He understood the question his mother was really asking. “England will always be home,” he answered, “but I’ve found my place in Austin.”
Anita studied him for a moment then nodded. “Francesca is your home.”
“Yes.”
“Then I suppose it’s time I renew my passport,” his mother told him. “Phone calls and FaceTime are all well and good, but I want to see this life you’ve built with my own eyes.”
He let out a relieved breath, as the thought of telling his mother that he planned to stay in Texas had been weighing on him. “When do I get to meet your Bertram?” he asked.
“Tomorrow is his day off. Perhaps we could all have breakfast?”
“Very good.” He picked up the tray once she’d placed the last scone on it. “I can tell he makes you happy, Mum. That makes me happy, as well.”
“We’d better rescue Francesca before Lydia and Mary Jane frighten her away. They’ve already picked out names for your children, you know.”
Keaton groaned and followed his mother back into the sitting room, a sense of contentment surrounding him as he watched the women who had raised him make Francesca a part of their tight circle. By the time they said goodbye to his mother and her friends almost two hours later, Francesca’s eyelids were drooping.
“It’s a food coma,” she said as she rested her head on his shoulder in the black cab taking them back to his flat. “I ate my weight in clotted cream.”
“It’s also a perfect excuse for me to take you to bed,” he said and that’s exactly what he did.
They spent the rest of the day holed up in his flat, and Keaton had never been more thankful for the oversize shower he’d had installed as well as the luxury silk sheets that covered his bed.
“England is much warmer this way,” Francesca said hours later as he curled her curvy body against his.
“I’m rethinking Antarctica,” he told her. “I plan to spend the whole of our honeymoon wrapped around you, luv.”
“Wherever we end up,” she said, kissing him deeply, “it will perfect because we’re together.”
“Always and forever,” he said and claimed her once again.
* * * * *
Don’t miss the next installment of the new
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THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS:
THE SECRET FORTUNES
Sophie Fortune Robinson is a starry-eyed romantic who believes she’s found her Mr. Right. Little does she know that her real One True Love is right in front of her—the coworker who is determined to make her Valentine’s Day a holiday to remember!
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HER SWEETEST FORTUNE
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