Jock Romeo (Jock Hard 6)

My mother cuts me off. “Please, Auntie, we’re here to have a nice dinner. It’s too soon to be harassing him before we’ve even had one bite.” She picks up the bread from the table and begins passing the basket to the right. “Are you trying to scare her away?”

My great aunt harumphs, giving both Lilly and me the stink eye. “In my day, you would have been married by now with an ankle biter on the way.”

“Auntie. Please.” Mom clenches her teeth.

“I’m just saying,” she says as my brother politely sets a slice of garlic bread on her plate then passes the basket along to Dad. “I had plenty of beaus when I was your age.” She slurps water from her glass, arms shaking a little as she adds, “Even let a few dip their wick before tying the knot with my first husband, Ralph—which wasn’t done.” She winks. “I was sex positive even back in the day.”

Dad coughs.

My mother groans.

Beside me, Lilly starts laughing. “That’s a phrase I’ve never heard of—dipping their wick.” Her head bows, and she laughs some more. “I’m sure I’ll be using that in a sentence later.”

Aunt Myrtle nods with approval. “Finally. Someone who appreciates my wisdom.”

“I wouldn’t call that wisdom,” Dad says good-naturedly.

He’s usually super chill where my aunt is concerned; I mean, what choice does he have? The petite powerhouse of a woman lives in his guestroom and commands the attention of everyone twenty-four hours a day.

The man has the patience of a saint.

“I hope you like lasagna. There’s enough of it for an entire family.” Mom heaves the pan and begins cutting thick, ginormous slices of the baked pasta dish.

“This is an entire family,” my brother sarcastically reminds her.

“Alex, don’t talk back to your mother,” my father says sternly, shooting him a warning glance across the table, not missing a beat.

For some reason my brother thinks he’s above the law when he is seated next to Aunt Myrtle, like the pint-size elderly pixie is going to protect him from getting in trouble when he runs his mouth. Which I guess is true a lot of times? But only when it involves my mother—Dad is a completely different story and doesn’t mind grounding the kid when he deserves it, regardless of where the offense happens. Like at the dinner table with a complete stranger.

We each take turns handing our plates to my mother while she serves us lasagna, which is still piping hot from the oven and steaming. It’s cheesy and full of meat sauce—pure perfection. Also one of my favorites. Although, like Lilly, I don’t discriminate among food.

I will eat just about anything.

“Did Roman tell you he lived in London last semester?” Mom asks after she’s taken her seat again. “He’s very smart—practically a genius.”

I blush, knowing this isn’t true. I’m nowhere near genius level, although I do have a very high IQ and great cumulative grade point average.

“Mom, I don’t want to talk about school.”

She sets down her fork. “Well you did other things in England while you were there, didn’t you? Why don’t you tell her about those things? Tell her about playing squash.”

The last thing I need is my mother playing matchmaker in front of my entire immediate family. God, this is embarrassing the way she’s pimping me out and trying to make me look good in front of Lilly.

“I actually did know he studied in London.” Lilly sweetly smiles at me. “I also did know he’s very smart—I got to see his trophy.” She does a little flustered headshake. “I’m sorry, I mean his award—the award he received when he was granted the scholarship to study abroad? It’s so impressive. I think it looks like a Grammy.” She giggles.

“I dropped it,” I tell my parents. “It broke and Lilly fixed it.”

“It broke?” Dad pauses from taking a bite of food. “What do you mean it broke?”

I shrug, setting a bite of lasagna on my tongue. Chew. Swallow. “It was in a box when I moved, and that box fell.”

Mom gasps. Covers her mouth with her hands. “Roman, no! Oh no, honey, you worked so hard for that!”

I shrug. “I worked hard for the scholarship, not for the award.” Glancing over at Lilly seated next to me, I grin. “Besides, Lilly fixed it up for me.”

“She did?” Mom looks between Lilly and me. “How?”

I fish my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans, thumb through my photo gallery, and produce a snap of the now glitterati honor covered in crystals.

Offer it up so Mom can see.

She leans forward for a better look at my phone. Raises her brows. Furrows them.

Her mouth gapes.

I can see she’s appalled but is too polite to say anything rude in front of Lilly. “How…nice.”

I show Dad.

He isn’t as subtle.

“What in God’s name?”