I have to sit very still in my office chair after she’s gone, reminding my body that it can’t get worked up right now, no matter how much it would like to. I can’t believe that something as simple as a kiss—hardly even a kiss, really—could have my heart racing and my slacks tenting, but my body seems to have shifted into a state of constant neediness where Mackenzie is involved. It’s both heaven and hell.
I’m just starting to resign myself to finishing my notes a few minutes later when my phone starts vibrating across my desk, perking up instantly like an overzealous Chihuahua at the possibility of it being Mackenzie, as unlikely as that situation is. I’m not disappointed per se when I realize it’s my mother instead, but my zeal from a moment earlier dissipates slightly, and I chide myself for being so ridiculous.
“Hello?”
“When are you bringing this girl to dinner?”
“Hello to you, too, Mother.”
“Noah Taylor. I will come over there and put you across my knee. I don’t care how big you are.”
I close my eyes, leaning back in my desk chair. “I don’t think I will be bringing her to dinner anytime soon. It’s still very . . . new.”
“Not so new that you’re sneaking away from work to Hunter and Jeannie’s lodge, apparently.”
I frown. “It really is ridiculous that you know so much about my personal life, considering how little I share with you.”
“I know,” she snorts. “Imagine. Your poor mother begging for scraps about your life from Regina like some sort of stalker. Do you know how many times I’ve had to sit through that woman’s recollection of the time she met Roseanne Barr at a bar twenty years ago? She thinks it’s so clever that she met Roseanne Barr at a bar. And here I am, having to sit through this time and time again, pretending that I find it funny just so I can hope to gain any kind of insider info on my son, since he won’t ever—”
“Okay, Mom. I get it. You’re very mistreated.”
She hmphs. “I’m glad we’ve established this. Now tell me why I can’t meet my future daughter-in-law.”
“Well, you referring to her as your future daughter-in-law is a pretty big tick against you.”
“What? I mean, you’re already spending her heats with her, surely that means you’ll be—”
“We are not going to discuss Mackenzie’s heats.”
“Fine, fine. I just want to meet the woman my son is all gaga over.”
I want to argue with her assumption that I’m gaga over Mackenzie, but even in my head it feels like a feeble effort.
“Well, for one, I just got her to agree to go on an actual date with me,” I sigh. “Subjecting her to my parents feels like something that will scare her off.”
“You make us sound like a form of torture.”
A chuckle escapes me. “Can you guarantee that you won’t ask her if she wants kids at some point during the dinner?”
“Well, I could certainly try,” Mom mutters unconvincingly.
“I think you and Mackenzie’s grandmother would get along well,” I say, grinning.
“I wonder if Mackenzie’s grandmother has to pull information from her granddaughter like pulling teeth.”
“Just . . . let me figure out what this even is between us, okay? Provided that she doesn’t realize that she’s entirely out of my league, I’m sure I can arrange the two of you meeting . . . at some point.”
“Oh, shut up. You’re a catch. When you’re not being a surly hermit.”
“Your confidence in me is reassuring.”
“Have you heard anything on the Albuquerque job?”
I press my lips together in a frown. I have heard from them—but it’s something I haven’t mentioned to anyone, Mackenzie included. Mostly because I’m so unsure as to what I want to do about the opportunity. It’s most likely imprudent to be reconsidering my entire future based on the possibility of one date, but since I’ve already established that my mother’s assessment of me being gaga for Mackenzie isn’t entirely unfounded . . .
“I had an email from them when I got back from Pleasant Hill,” I admit. “I . . . asked for more time.”
“Are you still considering the job?”
“I . . .” My fingers drum along my desk absently as my frown deepens. “I should be, shouldn’t I? Not considering an opportunity like this just because I met someone would be ludicrous.”
I don’t say it like a question, realizing I’m talking to myself more than my mother.
“Someone and the one are two very different things,” my mother offers.
My voice comes out softer, like I’m afraid to say anything in relation to the possibility. “There’s no way I can know that. Not after so little time.”
“Honey, I’ve known you your entire life, and I can confidently say that the fact that you’re even struggling with this is a good indication that you at least have an idea.”
She’s right. I know she is. Pre-Mackenzie me wouldn’t think twice about climbing the ladder career-wise, no matter what it meant for my personal life. It’s all I’ve ever been concerned with. But then again . . . I’ve never had anything else to be concerned with.
“I just worry she’ll . . . change her mind about all of this.”
About me, I don’t say.
My mother doesn’t answer right away, but I can practically hear her thinking from the other end of the line. Eventually, she sighs into the receiver. “That’s the funny thing about love, Noah. It’s terrifying, and there are no guarantees. We don’t fall in love because it’s a sure thing. We fall in love because our hearts don’t speak the same language as our brains. Your heart doesn’t have that little voice that worries about what-ifs. It sees something good and it goes all in. Sometimes you just have to listen to your heart more than your head.”
My thoughts trip over the word love, because that also feels like some sort of foreign concept that couldn’t possibly relate to whatever it is Mackenzie and I are doing. It’s too soon. It has to be. At least . . . that’s what my head is telling me. I wonder if my mother is right when she says I should be listening to something else instead.
I shake my head, collecting myself.
“I just need a little time to sort through everything,” I settle on resolutely. “We haven’t even been on an actual date. It’s entirely possible that giving this a real go will make Mackenzie see that she has better options out there than, as you put it, a surly hermit.”
“Don’t do that,” my mother chides. “Don’t hide behind your insecurities. I know alphas are supposed to be tough and impervious to everything, but we both know you’ve kept that part of yourself so carefully hidden all of these years because you’re afraid someone will see the real you and not like what they see. You’re afraid to let people in.”
“It’s just easier,” I admit.
“Yeah, well,” my mother says. “Love sure as hell isn’t easy either.”
I chuff a laugh through my nostrils. “Language.”
“I’m your mother,” she tuts. “Do as I say, not as I do.”
“Right.”
“Just try not to get too in your head about this,” she urges. “I have a good feeling this Mackenzie of yours might surprise you.”
I don’t tell her that Mackenzie surprises me every day.
“Sure,” I answer, my lips tilting up at the corners. “I’ll try.”
“And bring her to meet us soon, damn it.”
“Lang—”
“Yeah, yeah.” Her tone is softer when she adds, “I love you. Even if you’re a surly hermit.”