Winning Moves (Stepping Up 3)

“The porch light is on,” Kat commented as they neared the blue-and-white cottage-style home she’d grown up in. “They aren’t in bed or they’d turn it off.”

“Kitchen light, too,” Jason commented, taking the first of five wooden steps to the porch in unison with Kat.

“But they won’t answer their phones,” Kat said, taking the final step to the porch. “I don’t get it.”

Jason laughed and wiggled a brow. “I told you why they won’t answer.”

Kat was about to knock when the door flew open, and Sheila Moore, Kat’s mother, appeared before them. “Kat. Jason. I didn’t expect you to come over.”

Kat’s brows dipped at her mother’s rather stiff, uncomfortable reply, that was far from the normal, eager welcome she was used to.

“Please tell me you two aren’t here because you worried over my calls,” her mother exclaimed. “Because I’m really going to feel horrible I did that to you. I just wanted to chitchat and when you didn’t answer I called a friend. You know how I am. Every time I click over to a call, I hang up on the other person.”

“Of course we were worried,” Kat said quickly, glancing at her mother’s attire, which wasn’t at all the robe she’d expected. No, not at all. Her mother was fully dressed, looking stylish, and as usual, a good ten years younger than her age of sixty-five, in a pair of jeans and a floral shirt, her shoulder-length light brown hair sleek and straight. “Were you and Dad on your way out?”

“I was bored and tried to talk your father into a movie. Clearly that didn’t work out. I’m sure I ruined whatever plans you two had in the process. I hate that I scared you into driving over here.”

“We were about to eat pizza,” Jason put in quickly. “So if you happen to have some of that home cooking of yours you love to test on visitors, I’ll be happy to volunteer for the job.”

“Certainly,” her mother said, motioning them forward. “The least I can do after scaring you is to feed you.” She disappeared inside the house, clearly expecting them to follow.

Kat faced Jason, puzzled by a number of things. “Why isn’t my mother surprised you’re with me?”

“I told you I got your new address from your parents,” he said. “So I stopped by and had a long chat with them.”

“You stopped by and had a long chat with them?” she repeated. “What the heck did you say to them?”

Her mother popped her head back out of the door. “You two want coffee or iced tea?” she asked, as if she didn’t notice they hadn’t come inside yet.

“Both,” Kat said at the same time Jason did.

Her mother smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her light green eyes and Kat could feel the tension radiating from her.

Kat turned to Jason the instant her mother disappeared again. “I want that answer. Just not now. Something is up with my mother, no matter how much she is trying to act like there isn’t.”

“I agree, something is up,” he said, his hands settling on her shoulders before he gave her a quick kiss. “But the answer to your question is that I told them I want you back. The same thing I told you. Fortunately, they’re ‘Team Jason.’” He drew her hands into his and kissed her knuckles. “Now, if I could just get you on board.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I’ve always been ‘Team Jason.’”

“Correction then,” he said, his voice gentle, even tender. “I need you on ‘Team Jason and Kat.’”

Oh, how Kat wished it were as easy as just jumping on board that request, but she wasn’t sure she could be on “Team Jason” and still be on “Team Jason and Kat.” If she held him back, if she’d held him back in the past, would there even be a “Team Jason and Kat” to talk about?

He motioned toward the door with his head. “Your mother wants to feed us. Let’s not stop her. She’ll be happy and so will my stomach.”

“Mine, too,” Kat agreed, her shoulders relaxing as she dodged the difficult topic of what the future held. “I was beyond starving when we ordered the pizza.”

They entered the house, turning to their immediate left where her mother busied herself with the coffee pot in the pale blue-and-white rectangular-shaped oversized kitchen. The whole house had the same color scheme, which her parents both loved.

“Tell me you have some of that famous cheesecake of yours stashed away for dessert,” Jason pleaded, making a beeline for the fridge, as comfortable here as if he had never left the family. “I love that stuff.”

“You’ll have to settle for chocolate cake,” her mother informed him, walking toward Jason and pointing at something inside the fridge. “Hand me that tray. It’s lasagna. I just made it a few hours ago.”