“I . . . have a date. I’m just here to pick up fresh bread.”
“Oh my God! Like an actual date?”
Ambrose sighed. “Yes, Mother.”
“But does she know . . .” She made a strange but deliberate gesture, which involved much hand swirling and waggling of eyebrows.
His father facepalmed, then patted her on the back. “I’m sure she knows he’s into kink, dear. Leaving that sort of thing up to chance probably doesn’t turn out well. Unless you meant unicycling? I’m not sure if even he knows whether he’s into that.”
Ambrose snorted at his father’s joke, but thought immediately of Konstantin. Not addressing kink early in a relationship really didn’t turn out well. Maybe he should send Dad over to talk to him and knock some sense into his thick head. Agreeing to marry a stranger? Ridiculous.
“Yes, she knows.” He chuckled. “Is that good enough, or do you want details?” However, she didn’t know about his money. He’d bet his dad would have something to say about that. Guilt crept in. Fuck. Is it hot in here?
His mother put her hands over her ears. “Oh, just get him the bread he wants while I look for the mental bleach. I think I left some under the sink.” Without so much as a good-bye, she bustled into the back.
“There’s bread in the oven.”
“No bun in the oven?”
“Badum-ching. Yeah. Haven’t heard that one before. What do you want, kid?”
“Hm . . . What’s the best right now?”
“French loaf is ready.”
“That works.”
His dad turned to grab two off the shelf. “Well, I’m glad you’re going to have an actual date. Dwelling on your exes is fine for poets and artists, but the rest of us can’t live off of angst.”
“I’m not angsting.”
He smiled grimly. “Not anymore, but you did for a long time.”
“It was a huge loss to me at the time, and I was just finishing school. Too much changed all at once.” Ambrose shrugged. “We all have our moments of weakness.”
“True enough. I guess if your mother left me you’d find me dead in a ditch somewhere. But we’ve been together since high school. I don’t know how to be me without her.”
“Yeah, I want what you and Mom have. Now stop talking like that. You’re freaking me out.”
Glenn shook himself like a dog coming out of the rain. “Yeah, where the hell did that come from? Anyway, I’m just saying that it’s about damn time you put yourself out there again. You’re not happy single, I can tell that. If your brother never married, it wouldn’t surprise me, but I think you’d live half a life with no partner.”
Oh jeez. No pressure. “It’s just a date. Don’t start counting on grandchildren just yet.”
His father smiled mysteriously. “Stranger things have happened.” He waved and walked off, presumably in search of Jody. Damn it. He hadn’t waited for Ambrose to pay him again. They were getting sneaky.
Ambrose fished in his wallet, hoping he had cash on him. He smacked fifty bucks down on the counter, pretending he didn’t have anything smaller, and walked out the door. Served them right.
* * *
Ambrose had gone through his ingredients list so many times he was surprised he hadn’t worn a hole in it with his eyes. Why had he decided to cook something that had to be made while she was there? If he’d picked something that took a while in the oven, he could have set a timer and put the food on IGNORE.
It was at times like this that he wished that alcohol and BDSM weren’t such a bad mix. He could use a drink.
The house was spotless. He’d hired a maid service to give the place a once-over, even though he usually did it all himself. He rehearsed his lies one more time then made himself stop. If it sounded too rehearsed, she’d be suspicious. Why was he so nervous about this? They’d already had an interesting D/s dynamic going, and had mind-blowing sex—there was no reason for him to feel like he’d drunk five pots of coffee today.
Was it the lying, or the food, or was it the potential she represented that set him on edge?
When the bell finally rang, he was staring at his phone, waiting for a “sorry, I’m not showing up” text, even though she wasn’t late. God, this was going to be a mess.