“Did you text him to let him know you were coming early?”
“Nope. I was going for spontaneous.”
“You were going for ‘Shit, I forgot.’”
“That too.” Smiling, I took her hand off the wheel, kissed her knuckles like the gentleman I was. “Thank you for the lift.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sorry you thought you were going to die.”
“See you tomorrow?”
“Yes. And I want all the details. All of them.”
I climbed out, tattoo magazines in hand, and waited for her to drive off. I crossed the street, happily humming to myself, and pressed Andrew’s doorbell. My ridiculous smile died when it wasn’t Andrew who opened the door. I’d never met this person before in my life. Hell, I’d never even seen photos, but I knew exactly who it was because they looked so damned alike.
Andrew’s mother smiled at me. “You must be Spencer.”
CHAPTER NINE
Stuck for the right thing to say, wanting to run but knowing I shouldn’t, my useless brain spoke without me. “You’re really pretty.”
She threw her head back and laughed, and I wanted to die. Literally die. In that split second, I wished I was still in the car with Lola, careening through traffic at sixty miles per hour, waving merrily at death every other block.
Instead my stupid feet stayed stuck to the floor, and my stupid mouth just kept on going. Because seriously, why stop at embarrassed when mortified was so much more fun. “For a woman, I mean.”
“Spencer?” Andrew came out from the hall. “You’re early.”
Oh, thank God. “Help me because I have a stupid brain.”
Now he laughed, and his mother, I was absolutely certain, thought I was an idiot. She was clearly amused, delighted even, and I was still standing at the door. Andrew, biting his lip to stop the grin on his face from getting any bigger, dragged me inside. His mother was just like him: tall, lean, graceful, and she held herself with poise. She was impeccably dressed in a flowy green top and crisp white pants with enough gold jewellery to be elegant without being pretentious. She didn’t need to remind people she was classy; it was in the air around her. “Spencer, this is my mom, Helen. Mom, this is Spencer.”
“Nice to meet you,” Helen said gracefully. “Andrew warned me to leave before you got here, but you’re early.”
“I am, sorry. Lola offered me a lift, and taking Cindy Crawford is better than a bus, even if it means almost dying.”
They both stared at me. Andrew put his arm around me and chuckled. “Mom, Cindy Crawford is Lola’s car.”
She put her hand to her heart. “Oh.”
Dear God, this couldn’t get any worse. “I’m really sorry. Can we start over?” I held out my hand. “I’m Spencer Cohen. It’s lovely to meet you. I’m not usually such an idiot. Just nervous.”
Helen shook my hand with a fond smile. “It’s very nice to meet you. Please don’t be nervous. Andrew explained you would be, hence my being cautioned to not be here. He tells me you’re taking him to a bookstore and jazz bar?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She sighed dramatically. “A man after my own heart.”
“Okay, Mom,” Andrew urged.
“Yes, yes,” she said, collecting her designer label handbag from the sofa. She kissed Andrew’s cheek, he promised to call her, and she looked at me once more. “It’s very nice to meet you, Spencer. You’re as handsome and charming as Andrew said you were.”
I could feel my face heat with embarrassment, and Andrew ushered his mother to the door. When she was gone, he leaned against the door and exhaled. “I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t you apologise,” I said. “I’m the one who turned up unannounced!”
Andrew made a frowny, uncertain face. “It wasn’t too bad, was it?”
“I told her she was really pretty,” I explained, still horrified. “For a woman.”
Andrew laughed and walked over to me. He put his hand on my waist. “For what it’s worth, I think she likes you.”
“I have a stupid brain that says ridiculous things.”
He leaned up and kissed my forehead. “You keep saying you have a stupid brain, but I must disagree.”
I sighed. “Did you really tell her I was handsome and charming?”
He kissed me softly. “Yep. I can’t lie to my mother.”
I took a deep breath and tried to look at the bright side. “Well, at least it’s done now, I guess.”
He snorted. “You make it sound like a vaccination or a rectal exam.”
I laughed at that. “I’m not opposed to needles,” I said, pulling my sleeve up to show him my tattoos. “And I happen to love rectal exams.”
“I knew as soon as I said that where your mind would go.”
Still smiling, I handed him the folded magazines. “For Michelle.”
“Oh, thanks. She’ll love them.” He took them and slid them onto the dining table. “So, why the long sleeves?”
“I don’t always show off my tatts,” I said.