Mother found her favorite dress for me within an hour¸ only making me try on half a dozen outfits. It was laid out in a plastic bag she had draped over her arm when we left the boutique. We turned left to start toward her car when we had to pull up short to keep from getting run over by the rowdy mob leaving the hardware store next door.
A bunch of talkative, hyper boys surrounded two women, the younger lady cradling a baby to her chest.
I realized it was the Parker family about the same moment my mother gasped and jerked me backward away from them.
Mrs. Parker froze as well, causing her daughter to pause and look up questioningly before meeting my gaze.
I had to admit, Knox’s sister was pretty. She had dark hair and eyes, just like him, but her bone structure looked more fragile and feminine, whereas he came across as sturdy and solid, masculine. She had big boobs, too. As she bounced the fussing infant, they stretched and heaved under her shirt.
Garrett liked big boobs on girls. I’d come across him and Tad looking at porn too often not to know this. He’d probably like these—
And that’s when I realized I was checking out some girl’s rack. I yanked my gaze up, only to see bags under her eyes.
Mercedes Parker looked way too young to be that worn. Sympathy flared inside me.
She didn’t share the sentiment, though. When she met my gaze, her eyes narrowed. Almost as if challenging me, she ripped the cap off her daughter, exposing a head full of thick red hair. Then she turned enough so that I could see the child’s face, especially her bright blue eyes.
“Oh my God,” I blurted, too shocked to do much past gape at the kid.
I knew I’d spoken out of turn the moment the words left my mouth, but my mother still felt the need to squeeze my arm, hard.
I sucked in a pained breath. “I mean... She just... She looks—” Mother’s squeeze turned into the beginning stage of amputation, so I swallowed the rest of my surprise.
Mercedes Parker glared at me. Her mother glared at me. Heck, even her unruly younger brothers calmed down enough to glare at me. Mother and I were sadly outnumbered and surrounded by a sea of killer glares. I edged toward her, almost afraid of so many glaring Parkers, only to discover my mother was glaring at me too.
Silence reigned.
I have no idea who would’ve spoken first, or what they would’ve said, but the standoff was interrupted by the dinging of the bell over the entrance of the hardware store as the door swung open again. Hauling a fifty-pound bag of dry dog food over one shoulder and cradling a brown paper sack under the other arm, Knox stopped whistling when he found his family halted just outside the door.
“What’s the holdup?” A split second later, his gaze connected with mine.
He pulled his head back, and his lips parted. Then he shifted his gaze to my mother, and his eyes grew dark. Jaw hard, he muttered, “Well, let’s get on. There’s nothing to see here.”
My chin trembled, and his family reluctantly followed his orders, moving past and casting us one final collective glower as they did. I was grateful Knox had saved us from death by glare, but I was also insulted that he’d called me nothing worth seeing.
He waited at the end of his family line, only to gaze once more between my mother and me. Then he killed all my hurt feelings by uttering a quiet, “Ladies,” in a respectful if not tight-lipped voice before he stepped past us and trailed after the rest of the Parker clan.
My shoulders loosened and breath heaved as I turned to stare after him. But he was so freaking beautiful. The stretch of the back of his shoulders as he held the bag of dog food was breathtaking. And his backside was just plain—
“Stop staring at that filth,” Mother hissed, yanking on my arm that had pretty much lost all sensation by now.
“But that baby—” Surely, she’d seen it. Surely, she knew—
She slapped me. Hard. Right across the cheek.
My mother wasn’t the warmest, most loving parent in the world, but she’d never slapped me before. It shocked me into shutting up.
I gaped at her as she pointed a threatening finger at my nose. “I don’t know where that brat got its red hair, but it wasn’t from any son of mine. Do you understand?”
I blinked, feeling like a coward, because I wanted to call her out and I knew I wouldn’t. But she knew—had probably always known—that baby belonged to Garrett.
How could she just stand there and deny her own blood?
“Felicity,” she bit out from between clenched teeth. “Do. You. Understand?”
I dropped my gaze and nodded. Of course, I understood, and I hated what I suddenly knew.
“Good.” She grabbed my arm once more, her grip still too hard. “We’ll never speak of this again.”