“Everything okay?” he asks, brushing some hair from my face as she stares into my eyes.
“It is now. But just so you know, I’m very sober right now. And I still want you.”
His arms move around me and squeeze me to him. “Slow and steady,” he whispers as he grazes my cheek with a kiss. “What are your plans today?”
“Actually,” I pull away from him, “I’m keeping the girls tonight.”
“Babysitting. Nice.”
“Wanna join me as I venture into town and buy enough junk food to feed an army?”
“I think I’d like that.”
We decide to make a day of it and stop by to visit Grams. I’m not sure if she could tell by the smiles on our faces when we looked at one another or the way we couldn’t seem to drag our eyes away, but I could tell she knew something was going on between Connor and me because she grinned from ear to ear the entire time and kept waggling her eyebrows at me.
Afterward, we grabbed lunch and went to the grocery store.
“Damn, I loved these when I was a kid. Grams would never buy them.” He holds up a box of Lucky Charms, and I laugh.
“They’re so gross.”
He scoffs at me. “Clearly you have no taste buds.”
“Well, throw it in the cart, good sir. I’m sure the girls will love it too.”
He tosses the box in and rushes me, jerking me up and spinning me, kissing my neck as he does.
“Demi?”
Connor stops spinning us and drops me slowly to my feet as we stare at, none other than, my mother.
Shit.
“Hey, Mom,” I manage to squeak out.
“Hello, yourself,” she mumbles as she cuts Connor a lethal look.
“Mom, this is Connor, Blake’s cousin. Connor, my mother.” I motion my hand between them as I speak, my tone clearly lacking enthusiasm. I just know she’s going to humiliate me.
Connor holds out his hand to shake hers, but she just looks at it, then fixes her gaze on me. My face heats with embarrassment. I can’t believe how rude she is. I mean, I can, she’s an asshole, but I’m mortified by her behavior.
“It looks like you two are . . . close,” she notes with one judgmentally arched eyebrow.
Looking back at Connor, I smile. He looks severely uncomfortable. “We are,” I boast. I’m proud to admit that, too. Connor Stevens is mine.
“You know she could do better,” she spits, turning her attention to Connor.
“Mother,” I hiss. Looking around us, I notice there are three other people in this aisle with us, having stopped their browsing of the shelves when they heard my mother.
“You’re jail trash. Nothing like Blake.”
“Stop it,” I order, stepping in front of her. “How dare you talk to him like that.” My heart is pounding as anger rushes me. A fierce need to protect Connor; defend him takes over. “He’s a good man, and he is my choice and if you don’t like it, feel free to stay away from us.
She huffs in offense and walks past us. “I thought I raised you smarter, Demi.”
I want to yell something more at her, call her a name . . . something, but I decide it will only antagonize her more. My gaze moves to Connor, and I immediately hug him. “I’m so sorry. She is such a bitch sometimes.”
Connor backs away from me and shrugs, scratching the back of his neck, like usual. “She’s not wrong, Demi. You could do better.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t give up on this before we’ve even started, Connor. And just so you know, she didn’t like Blake either.”
He gives me a faint smile as he twists his neck and eyes the other people in the aisle with us who are pretending to look at items on the shelf but are really listening to us. Shaking his head, he starts pushing the cart again. “Let’s get out of here.” And gone is the happy and relaxed Connor Stevens. My mother has brought forward the brooder.