Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
My jaw drops. “I haven’t even known her a week yet. Give me some time.”
“Do ya listen to anything I say?”
“Every last word of it.”
“Then start drawing the connections with that big brain of yours.” She heaves a breath as she sits in her recliner on the other side of the bar. “She turned down dinner and then showed up. She told you it was only for one night, right?”
I nod, unsure where she’s going with this.
“She left you the next morning,” Mimi recalls. “She’s telling you over and over that she doesn’t believe that you’ll continue to be there for her. I’d bet a dime to a donut that she’s felt neglected in her previous relationships.”
“Why do you care so much, Tate? Isn’t this more trouble than it’s worth?”
“Who knew you were a love guru?” I ask.
“You’d be surprised. I was quite the rascal back in the day.”
“Mimi, I have no doubt.”
I take my usual spot on the couch beside her recliner and watch a Western we’ve already seen several times. The weather is beautiful, so I figured she’d want to go on a golf cart ride and terrorize the neighborhood, but she hasn’t mentioned it.
I study her, taking in the bags under her eyes and the spots on her skin. She’s starting to look her age. She’s beginning to look tired.
It scares the shit out of me.
When Jason married Chloe, her grandmother came with the package. Jason moved her into his renovated guest cottage so she could have her own space. Between me, Ripley, and Renn, I think she gets more visitors than our own mother.
If Mom would stay stateside longer than a week every two or three months, we could see her more often, too.
“We got a new security guy,” Mimi says.
“Yeah, I heard that was happening. We received a memo a couple of months ago telling us that Landry Security was hiring new personnel and that we should expect to see new members on our security teams.”
She points a bony finger at me. “Well, I don’t like my new guy, and I told Jason as much.”
“Who did you get?”
“This bastard named Callum.”
I snort. Oh, the infamous Callum. “Say less, Mimi.”
“Say less? What’s that supposed to mean?”
I grab the remote off the coffee table and turn the movie down. “That means that you don’t have to say anything else. I get it.”
“Do you know him?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Well, pull some strings for your woman over here and tell them I don’t want Callum. I liked Grey. Can I just have Grey?”
“You just think Grey is cute.”
“So? Let me look,” she says, throwing up her hands. “I’m going to die soon. Let me get my kicks in while I can.”
I shake my head and toss the remote back on the table.
“What’s your plan?” she asks, her eyes glued to the television. The actor is her favorite—a baby-faced cowboy who, in real life, supposedly was badass. Mimi made me read his biography one time.
“What’s my plan for what?”
She looks at me, annoyed. “I’d like to see you married and have kids before I kick the bucket. But your lackadaisical attitude is making me think that’s not going to happen.”
“Babe, I’m not being lackadaisical.”
She flashes me an ornery grin at my use of her favorite pet name. “Do you want some tips?”
“Give them to me.”
She twists in her chair to face me, her cowboys getting into a firefight in the distance. She tugs a blanket onto her lap.
“The first tip you’ll be good at,” she says. “You already do this for me.”
I lean back, wide-eyed. “Have you been having dreams about me again?”
“No, you little shit.” She laughs, tilting her head back. “I’m talking about bringing me food.”
“That’s a relief.”
She shakes a finger playfully at me. “Men get it all wrong. Now, I can’t speak for all women, but I will say that a lot of women can be won over through their stomach.”
“Not the body part I was expecting, but I’m listening.”
Mimi groans as she moves, favoring her right hip.
I watch her try to get comfortable and wish there was something that I could do to help her. I’ve often wondered if she gets lonely in this little cottage. She’d never admit it if she did—she’s too proud for that. But I am curious from time to time if she wishes she had a husband or a boyfriend other than me.
“Food can be more intimate than sex,” she says, picking at the neckline of her light blue dressing gown. “Because it’s not about the food at all. It’s about the thought and the care—not to mention the time that goes into it. When you bring me food every Wednesday, it makes me feel so important to you.”
“Because you are. I love you.”
She beams. “You know I love you, too, charmer.” She rests her head against the chair and sighs happily. “This is why couples fight about where to eat. That’s not the fight at all. It’s the woman wanting the man to show her that he cares for her by providing this essential need—even if it’s fast food. Just make the decision.”