“These new cocktails are going to revitalize you,” Seb promises, the morning after the party. We’re at the spa, in the expansive kitchen space, finalizing the special drinks list he’s curated. “ReVitalize, get it?”
I groan, and only a little because of my hangover. “You think I haven’t already heard that pun a million times?”
“Hey, you’re the one who ignored my excellent name suggestions,” Seb grins.
“Yeah, I don’t think we’ll have a line around the block for a spa called, ‘Swank Bastard,’” I say dryly.
Seb laughs, assembling another cocktail to try.
“How the hell are you so perky?” I grumble. “You drank more last night than anyone.”
“My secret Bloody Mary refresher,” he replies, shaking up a cocktail holder. “But you look like you need a wake-up call. Voila, spiked cucumber fizz with hydrating algae.”
“Hydrating what now?” I sniff the glass of green liquid, dubious.
Seb grins. “Sounds healthy, right? I found a great new gin distillery, out in the South of France. You’ve got an exclusive on US sales for the first few months.”
I shake my head, impressed—by the cocktail, and Seb’s wheeling and dealing. The man has the gift of the gab, and a magical ability to make every partnership sound new and exclusive. “I’ll take your word for it,” I tell him, taking another gulp—and an aspirin.
Seb arches an eyebrow. “Not like you to go so hard. What happened to your body as a temple?”
I chuckle. “I didn’t go hard, I’m just getting old. Although, it was a late night…”
He frowns. “I thought you and Jenn left early.”
“We did.” I grin, and he laughs.
“Good for you. Told you she was a keeper?”
I snort. “When?”
“It was implied.” Seb grins. “But seriously, man. Good for you. And good for me, too, with less competition around.”
“You were never my competition,” I can’t help razzing him, as we head out to the lobby. There’s a chill couch area for conversation and waiting, set off to one side with massive olive trees and concrete planters. We take a seat, and Seb kicks back.
“I’ll let that one slide,” he smirks. “Since you’re so clearly smitten with Jenn.”
I take a deep breath. “I am,” I admit, smiling. There’s no point in playing it down. “I don’t think I’ve never felt this way with a woman before. So… Certain. Like we fit together. No games, no secrets. It’s easy with her, you know?”
“Nope,” Seb jokes. “I like my women like I like my wine: complex, with spicy undertones.”
I shake my head. “One day, you’ll see.”
Seb makes a dismissive sound. “You sound like Charlie and Dash,” he complains.
I laugh. “Watch your back, buddy. True love might be right around the corner. Trust me, I didn’t see Jenn coming.”
Seb regards me, thoughtful. “So, that’s it, mate?” he asks. “Hook, line, and sinker. This is the girl? The elusive One?”
I pause. “Maybe,” I reply, knowing it’s crazy to claim otherwise when we’ve barely been officially dating a couple of weeks, but in my gut, I know the answer is really, ‘yes’.
“What is it?” Seb notices my hesitation and sets down his drink. “Out with it. I know I give you shit, but I’m actually quite happy for you.”
“Thanks,” I say, with a sigh. “I just get this sense that she’s… holding back. Maybe because we work together? But I like working together. She’s perfect for Vital, and we collaborate so great. I really think we can handle sharing a workplace and a relationship.”
“Maybe it’s not work, then,” Seb reasons. “She probably has an ex or two who made her gun-shy, same as you.”
“Mm,” I agree, considering it. “She hasn’t mentioned anything like that.”
Seb lifts an eyebrow. “Have you told her about Clara?”
“Briefly. But I don’t like talking about her because I don’t like reliving it,” I reason. “And because I’ve completely moved on. She’s really just not on my mind anymore.”
“Well, there you have it,” Seb says. “Maybe there’s a Clara in her past too, a Clary, but she’s probably just not ready to open up about it. No big deal.”
I nod. Part of what I like so much about Jenn is how straightforward she is. If something’s on her mind, she’ll tell me, when the time is right.
Seb glances at his watch. “Time for me to bail,” he says, knocking back the last of his drink. “I have a wine rep meeting at the harbor.”
“Sipping Chardonnay on a yacht?” I tease.
“Yes indeed.” Seb grins and I have to laugh.
“Jammy bastard,” I say, echoing his favorite British phrase. “Sometimes I think you got the best deal out of any of us.”
“No thinking necessary,” he says with a wink. “I did.”
After he leaves, I head up to the office to get some more emails out. The place is empty for the weekend—I insisted that the team take a real break, however much there is to do before launch—and I enjoy the quiet. But I haven’t been working more than an hour when I find myself reaching for my phone. Jenn said she was spending the day catching up on errands, and I wonder if she has time to meet for lunch.
She only left my bed a few hours ago, but already I want to see her again.
I catch myself and have to smile. Yeah, Seb is right. I’m smitten.
“Hi,” she says quickly, “What’s up?”
I pause. “You OK?” I ask. “You sound… Tense.”
“Oh no! That’s terrible!” Jenn exclaims loudly. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I reply slowly, confused. “What’s going on.”
“Oh, maybe you should go to the doctor, then,” she says, like we’re having a totally different conversation.
“What?” I ask, then I get it. She’s trying to get out of something, and I’m her excuse. “Yeah, I think it’s broken. Yep. All my bones. You should leave what you’re doing immediately. So you can help with the… boning.”
She clucks at me, sympathetic. “Of course I’ll come.”
“Yes, you will,” I say, smiling. “But what’s going on?”
“I’ll jump in a cab right away. Yup. Uh huh.” Her voice drops, like she’s talking to someone. “Sorry, mom. It’s a 911. I have to go.”
“Your mom is there?” I sit up, interested. “Stay put, I’ll come get you.”
“No, really—”
“I mean it,” I insist. “I want to meet her.”
And find out why Jenn is so desperate to escape the woman.
“You really don’t have to do that,” Jenn says grimly.
I grin. “Trust me.” I grab my wallet. “Text me the address. I’ll be right there.”
When I arrive at the restaurant, I find them sitting on the patio. Jenn’s staring down at her plate, spearing salad as if it’s wronged her, while a slim, fashionable woman sits opposite, I can see the resemblance in their dark hair and eyes, but that’s about where the similarities end. Jenn’s mom has a critical arch to her expression, waving her fork around for emphasis, while Jenn sinks lower in her seat.
She looks miserable.
I quickly stride across the patio to join them.
“Hey, baby,” I reach Jenn, and lean down to kiss her. She brightens, just a little.
“Save yourself,” she whispers.
I hide a laugh and straighten up. “Mrs. Walker,” I say, offering a hand. “Austin Banks. A pleasure to meet you.”
She shakes my hand, eyes passing over me in a slow review. “Please, call me Deborah. What an unexpected surprise.”
“I begged Jenn to let me crash,” I explain. “She’s already met my sister and nephew, and I’ve been dying to get to know her family.”
“I… See…” she says, smile widening. “Of course. Please, join us.”
I pull up a chair and order an iced tea. I could use some lunch, but I already know that Jenn wants to bolt ASAP.
“So, my daughter says she’s working for you,” Jenn’s mom says primly. “A new spa company, mm? After years of a baseball career.”
Well, there’s the passive aggression shining through. Her tone is light—perfectly pleasant, but I can hear the doubt.
“Mom—” Jenn begins, but I place a hand on hers.
“Yeah, it’s interesting,” I say breezily, as if I’m totally at ease. I’ve had reporters ask me, straight-up, how it felt to bungle a game. I can certainly handle Mrs. Walker and her judging stare. “My baseball career was an education. Being a pro athlete means you get access to cutting-edge health tech, so I learned first-hand from the best around. But enough about me,” I pivot with a smile. “Tell me about yourself. You’re from Long Island, right?”
“Well, not originally…” Deborah starts to talk, and I keep the questions coming. After all, the longer she’s talking about herself, the less time she has to start picking at anyone else.
“… But of course, Jenn doesn’t make it back to visit as often as I’d like. She’s just so busy. Be sure you don’t work her too hard,” Deborah adds.
“I can’t keep her away from her desk,” I reply. “She’s been heroic.”
Jenn blushes. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I’m not exaggerating,” I insist. “She’s been putting out fires left and right. Did she tell you she brought in a big investor, last-minute? Saved the whole launch from going up in smoke.”
“No, she didn’t mention it,” Deborah says, looking impressed.
“I didn’t bring them in,” Jenn corrects. “I was just watching TV, and mentioned to Austin—”
“And then talked the guy into considering my deal, engineered a trip to pitch in person, wowed them all with her charm and smarts,” I talk over her. “The list goes on.”
“That’s wonderful,” Deborah says, giving Jenn a look. “You see what happens when you finally start showing some ambition? She spent so long spinning her wheels at that last job,” she adds to me. “Years! I kept saying, it was time for a chance, but would she listen? She’s lucky you gave her a chance.”
“Dessert,” Jenn interrupts, heading off her mom’s new line of critique. “I do love the olive oil cake here.”
Deborah tuts. “Cake, really? I thought you were trying to stay healthy.”
“I had salad,” Jenn glares.
“With fries.” There’s a note of disapproval in Deborah’s voice that makes my blood boil.
Is she fucking kidding right now?
“Cake sounds great,” I announce loudly. “Make it two slices. With ice-cream.”
Deborah arches her eyebrows. “You surprise me, Austin. I thought, as an athlete, you’d be making smart choices about your food. I’m always telling Jenn, a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.” She gives a trill of a laugh, as if it can disguise the toxic bullshit she’s spewing.
“I don’t see anything smart about developing a fucked-up relationship with food,” I say bluntly.
Deborah’s eyes widen in shock. “I wouldn’t say—”
“I would,” I cut her off, steaming now. Jenn’s been hinting around her strained relationship with her mom, but seeing it now up close, I can only imagine the passive-aggressive bullshit she’s had to tolerate her entire life. “Jenn can eat whatever the hell she wants, she doesn’t need you sniping about it. Her body is fucking perfect, I know I sure as hell don’t have any complaints. Not that my opinion matters,” I add. “Nor yours, nor anyone else’s.”
I push my chair back, pull out my wallet, and throw down some bills. “You coming?” I ask Jenn, needing to leave the table before I tell her mom what I really think of her.
Jenn bobs her head, grabbing her purse.
“Well, really—” her mom tsks, but I’m not done.
“And for the record, she’s not the lucky one here, I am. I’m fortunate as hell she walked into my life, because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened—to my business, and to me. So I suggest you wake up, and start appreciating your daughter the way she deserves. Because you’re lucky to have her, too.”
With that, I turn and stride out of the restaurant. It’s only when I hit the sidewalk out front that my blood pressure lessens, and I realize that I basically just told Deborah to fuck all the way off.
Not exactly the best way to make a first impression with my girlfriend’s mom.
Fuck.
Jenn catches up with me outside. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
I wince. “I’m sorry,” I say immediately. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Sorry?” Jenn echoes, eyes wide. Then she laughs. “You’re kidding, right? You don’t need to apologize for anything. That was amazing!”
“It was?” I check, relieved.
“Incredible.” She grins and leans closer. “You are so getting laid for this. Even without the cake.”
I’m not about to argue with that.
We grab a cab, and head back to her place, making out like teenagers in the hall as she fumbles with her keys.
“The look on her face…” Jenn breathes, still laughing over lunch. “I mean, there’ll be hell to pay. We’re talking wounded victim routine for months, but it was worth it.”
“Anytime you need backup, just call,” I promise, finally getting her inside and pressing her up against the kitchen counter. “I will insult your mother any day of the week if it turns you on.”
“Have we just found a new kink?” Jenn asks, laughing, then winces. “On second thought, I don’t want to hear the word ‘kink’ in the same sentence as my mother ever again!”
“Agreed,” I say breathlessly, burying my face in her neck. Fuck, the feel of her body against me is incredible, and I can’t wait to get her out of these clothes and show her just how much I adore every curve.
But suddenly, we’re interrupted by a knock.
“Freakin’ Millie,” Jenn groans in frustration, pulling away. “I need to put a sock on the door. Do not disturb!”
She pulls the door open wide, but it’s not her friend Millie. A stylish blonde woman stands on the threshold, looking curiously around.
And Jenn freezes, looking like she’s seen a ghost.