“Is there anything you need me to do around here before I go?” he asked like always, because things did occasionally break when it came to a house that was over thirty years old. He did his best to fix whatever he could when it came to keeping up his mother’s house, and what he couldn’t figure out, he hired someone else to do.
“No, everything is fine,” she replied, looking a little distracted.
He wondered if she was thinking about what he’d said about reaching out to Patty. God, he hoped so, but time would tell.
“If you need anything at all, just call me,” he said, always meaning it.
He wrapped her in a hug, and she tentatively touched her hands to his back to return the embrace, clinging to him a little closer than normal. She felt especially fragile and vulnerable tonight, as if she’d lost her way over the past thirteen years and didn’t know how to find her way back again.
“I’m always here for you, Mom,” he told her as they shared an emotional moment that made his throat feel tight. “I love you.”
She hugged him a little tighter before letting go and stepping back. “I love you, too, son.”
She’d said the words many times to him since Trish’s death, usually in response to him saying it first, but this time, as he looked into her eyes, they weren’t hazed over with the usual underlying grief and pain and depression. There was the smallest glimmer of the mother he used to know, the one who’d smiled often and loved with her whole heart until her identity as a mother had been shattered, just as his as a brother had been.
He left his mother’s, and by the time he reached his own house, it was seven o’clock at night. Still early, and he really didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening by himself, rehashing his time with his mother and reading more into her actions than he should, because he’d been disappointed before.
What he needed was a distraction. Something, or someone, to take his thoughts off of his visit with his mother. He had at least a dozen contacts in his phone of willing females who’d be up for a booty call, but honestly, none of those women remotely appealed to him. No, the only person that filled his mind was Evie, who he hadn’t spoken to since Friday at her shop because his weekend had been extremely busy.
He decided he needed to rectify that situation. Kicking off his shoes, he made himself comfortable on the couch, called her number on his phone, and waited to hear her voice.
CHAPTER SIX
Evie took a big bite of one of the gooey, chocolatey brownies she’d made earlier to take to the salon for the Beautiful Day program tomorrow, intending to enjoy the treat while she read her book, just as her phone rang with a call. Mouth full of sticky, sweet goodness, she glanced at the screen to see who it was, hoping she could let it go to voicemail since she wasn’t in a position to talk at the moment.
Her stomach did a little happy dance at seeing Eric Miller’s name on the display, and since she hadn’t heard from him since Friday, she didn’t want to miss his call. She tried to swallow the thick brownie at the same time she answered the phone, which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t a great idea.
“Hey-roh?” she croaked around the chocolate cake in her throat.
There was a definite pause before Eric spoke. “Hi . . . is this Evie?”
Embarrassment warmed her face, and she gulped again, wishing she had something to drink to help wash down the last of the brownie. “Ummm, ’tis me,”
“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone concerned.
She finally managed to get the majority of the dessert down, at least enough to talk without garbling her words. “I . . . uh . . . I’m good now. I was eating a brownie just as you called and shouldn’t have answered the phone with my mouth full.”
He chuckled, the sexy sound rippling through her like a physical caress. “Do I need to come over and administer mouth-to-mouth?”
Oh, yes, please, she was tempted to say. All weekend, her mind had replayed what he’d said to her outside of her shop about kissing her—when it happens, and trust me when I say that it will happen, I want the luxury of taking my time and exploring every inch of your soft, sweet mouth—and she’d already decided that when and if the opportunity presented itself and he tried to kiss her as part of the whole boyfriend experience, she certainly wasn’t going to deny him, or herself.
But right now, she wasn’t dressed for company. Her hair was in a sloppy ponytail, she was wearing sleep shorts and a tank top, she had zero makeup on, and she hadn’t shaved her legs in, well, almost a month. There had been no reason to . . . until now, just in case her calves or thighs came into contact with any part of Eric at the reunion. Yeah, that was her reasoning and she was sticking to it.