“How are you still single?” I ask, moving across the room. “I could marry you tomorrow, Andi.” I’m half kidding, but she seems unsure of whether or not it’s a joke. “Relax,” I tell her. “Kidding.”
“I knew that,” she says. “Anyway, why don’t you lock the door, get over here, and take your pants off?”
“About that marriage proposal,” I say, letting my hand cup her cheek as I swoop in for a kiss. “Maybe I’m not kidding.”
She nips my lip. “Sounds good to me.”
I clear my throat. We’re in dangerous territory.
“I’m kidding,” she says. “Relax.”
“Me too,” I say, the tension easing. “But really, we can wait. There’s plenty of time tonight.”
“Is there?” She lets the covers fall from around her shoulders, exposing silky white breasts in a lacy purple bra. One strap has slid down her shoulder. “Are you sure?”
I reach for her strap, bringing it to the correct position on her shoulder. It’s a trap—her hand snakes out, snaps at the waistband of my jeans, and instantly I’m ready.
“You sneak,” I say, looking down.
“I thought he might feel differently,” she says, nodding toward my crotch. “What do you say we head back to the bed?”
“How can I resist an offer like that?”
She leans backward, spread like a beautiful, exquisite platter before me, filled with all the delicacies of the world. I start to follow her, drawn toward her figure, when she raises a finger and shakes it at me.
I panic. “What? Everything okay?”
“Lock the damn door, Pierce!”
I can’t help but laugh. I shouldn’t be surprised; she makes me laugh more than anyone else. I make quick work of the lock then join her in bed.
“I’ve missed this,” she says, pushing me back against the pillows. Her lips trail down past my ribs to the sensitive edges of my abs then approach the score zone near the rim of my pants. She teases the zipper down, and then, with a devilish look, frees me from my boxers.
I hiss and close my eyes as she takes me into her mouth. “Andi, baby—”
“I’m home!” a shrill voice yells up the stairs. “Anyone else home? Ryan, is that your car outside? Do you have a friend over?”
“Goddammit!” I bite out. “Not now.”
“Who…” Andi murmurs, then falls silent as the voice continues to pierce the air.
“Lawrence, is that you making all that racket?” my mother yells from the hallway. “You know how I feel about cursing when you’re in this house. Is your brother home with his friend yet? I don’t want her first impression to be a houseful of boys with filthy mouths.”
I shake my head, my jaw tense as Andi slowly sits up. “I’m so sorry.”
Andi has this look on her face that’s halfway between disappointment and amusement. Then, the sound of footsteps on stairs reaches our ears, and we simultaneously scramble to pull ourselves into some semblance of presentable attire.
By the time the knock sounds on the door, I’ve thrown most of the pillows on the bed and Andi’s essentially dressed, with the exception of one missing sock and some mad sex hair. I fling open the door.
“Lawrence, why are you in your brother’s—” My mother is already speaking before she realizes it’s not Lawrence. She stops abruptly and scans the two of us, her eyes going from confusion, to realization, to that motherly look that says she knows exactly what was going on before she arrived.
I give Andi credit—she hardly flinches at the intrusion.
“Hello, Mrs. Pierce.” She extends a hand, a polite smile on her face. “We were just about to change for dinner. I didn’t get a chance to fix my hair yet, and I fell asleep on the plane.”
God bless Andi, and God bless my mother. They are both champions of the highest quality because they completely ignore the situation. My mother puts on her perkiest smile and bypasses Andi’s handshake, pulling her in for a full-on Pierce hug.
“It is so great to have you here,” my mother says, holding Andi at arm’s length. “You are gorgeous. Another girl in the house—another woman! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment? Lilia has been a godsend, and now we have another. My dreams are coming true!”
“Well, I’m happy to be here. Thank you so much for the generous invitation.” Andi bows her head a little, smiles again. “You have a beautiful home.”
“Well, then let me show it to you!” Raising five boys means my mother has seen it all, and she isn’t about to be played a fool. She knows what we were doing, and clearly, she doesn’t want us messing around before dinner. “Come with me, dear.”
“Oh, I already got a tour,” Andi says. “Thank you so much. I should probably fix my hair.”
I feel like it’s my turn to chip in and say something, but I’m not sure what to say, so I stand there with a dumb look on my face. I think I deserve a break though, since my mother almost walked in on a sight she should never see.
“Oh, Ryan’s never been very good at giving tours of the house, except for maybe his bedroom,” my mother adds a little pointedly. “Come on, darling, let me show you the kitchen. Have you ever had lefse? Ryan’s father is Norwegian, you know…”
“Mom,” I say weakly. “Leave her be.”
“I’m just being hospitable,” she says, a sharp edge to her words. “Did you even offer this poor girl something to drink? Can I get you water, coffee, tea? She’s probably starved, Ryan. She’s been on the plane for nearly four hours. Look at her! She’s tiny. She needs food.”
“I’ll go downstairs and help get dinner ready,” Andi says, giving me a look that I interpret to mean everything’s okay. “I’ll…see you soon.”
I nod, and then they’re gone.
Apparently the entire welcome committee has decided to pop in and say hello. I sigh, running a hand through my hair in frustration. Don’t get me wrong, I love that Andi’s happy, satisfied, and yes, welcomed by my family, I’m just not sure what to do now, standing alone in my bedroom with my boner, wishing Andi’s transition to the Midwest had gone just a little bit smoother.
CHAPTER 38
Andi
They live in a fairytale cottage.
Mrs. Pierce, who is incredibly pretty in a soccer mom sort of way, guides me down a hallway lined with pictures of her boys in all stages of hockey careers. She’s going on and on about how much trouble they’ve gotten into over the years, but all I can think about is that this place feels like home.
It’s a little bit hard, I admit, to be here—not because Lawrence burst in while Ryan had his fingers doing unmentionable things, and not because his mother almost caught me doing dirty deeds to her son, but because she’s here—Mrs. Pierce, a mother, and the most motherly mother I’ve ever seen besides my own.
I miss my mom. I miss the way she smelled of cinnamon and vanilla. While my dad had cornered the pizza market, my mom had baked everything. Maybe it was the soft, gooey smell of chocolate chips wafting from the Pierce’s kitchen or the warm, lingering hug she gave me before knowing my name—whatever it was, she reminded me of what life was like before my mother died and things began to fall apart.
On top of all that, their house is yellow with sunshine washing in through generously sized windows to bathe the walls and floor, bouncing its rays all the way up to the vaulted ceiling. Parts of the exterior look Victorian, while other sections appear a little lopsided with a modern spin, as if the Pierce family has made adjustments over the years with each new family member.
Though Ryan’s earlier tour was admittedly short, I didn’t miss the array of pictures out on every surface, or the little trays of peppermints and candies in easy reach on all the end tables. If my nose isn’t lying, a pot of coffee is brewing from the same place as the baking cookies. The whole package is a bundle of warmth and hominess.
“It really is lovely to have you here.” Mrs. Pierce pushes up her sleeves. “Ryan hasn’t stopped talking about you since he came home weeks ago.”