“Mom,” I called out when she opened the door and walked out of the room. “This is Jagger. Not some random guy coming to see me. Jagger stopped being a guest when we were twelve.”
She pointed a finger at me as she walked backward toward the staircase. “Change,” she demanded quietly.
Biting back a groan, I walked over to my closet and flung open the door. I didn’t know what qualified as “perfect” at nine in the morning, and at that moment nothing seemed better than what I was already wearing. After staring at my clothes for what felt like hours, I grabbed my green lace racerback tank and threw it on over the black spaghetti strap I was already wearing. Stepping out of my yoga pants, I searched for a pair of shorts and pulled them on as I walked to the door. I stopped abruptly as soon as I hit the doorway, and didn’t hold back my next groan as I turned right back around and walked over to my vanity to put on some makeup—the entire time grumbling about my mom.
Maybe I was in a bad mood.
My mind drifted back to the dreams I’d had last night, and that I’d let replay through my mind all this morning. Jagger still hadn’t kissed me again, and even though we’d spent all day together yesterday, every touch had been started by me. I knew he was letting me set the pace, but it was making me think that I’d somehow pushed him back with my mini-meltdown the other night. My dreams of never being able to get close enough to him just made my worries increase.
Once I finished with my makeup, I looked at my reflection for a few seconds before grabbing my phone and taking off toward the stairs. I shook my head and tried not to laugh when I heard my mom talking. She wasn’t just being weird with me; she was being weird with Jagger as well. Questioning him like she was just meeting him for the first time, asking all about his life that she already knew just as well as his own mother.
“Mom, Jagger can’t tell you anything about himself that you don’t already know,” I said by way of announcing myself when I walked into the living room.
Jagger gave me a look that I was sure matched the expression on my own face when the robot posing as my mom had been in my room, and I just sent him a smile. When I glanced over at my mom, she gestured to her clothes before giving me a thumbs-up while mouthing, “Perfect.”
“Did your mom have a caffeine IV this morning?” Jagger whispered in my ear as he pulled me into his arms.
“You’d think so.”
“Well, what are the plans for today, kids?”
Jagger turned back to look at my mom, his arm wrapped securely around my waist. “Uh, not sure. Do you need Grey for anything today?”
“No, no. Of course not, keep her as long as you want.” I made a face and she quickly added, “Except for the night, of course! Bring her home tonight, you know, so she’s here. In her bed. Without you in it too.”
A husky laugh sounded next to me, and Jagger’s fingers flexed against me. “Of course, Mrs. LaRue.”
Mom blushed and waved him off. “You can call me Darcy, sweetie, you know that.”
Oh my God. My mom was flirting with my boyfriend. Man friend . . . person. “Mom!”
“I know, but why change thirteen years of tradition?” Jagger replied easily. “I’ll have Grey home tonight.”
“Okay! Bye, you two! Have so much fun today—I mean, not too much fun. You know, don’t get yourselves in any position you’ll regret.”
“Mom!”
“Not that kind of position . . . but, yes, that too! Protect yourselves.”
Jagger busted up laughing, and I felt my face heat. “Oh my God. We’re leaving. Now. We’re going.” Grabbing the hand on my waist, I towed a still-laughing Jagger to the door and outside. “What the hell?” I whispered as we walked down the driveway.
“I have never seen your mom like that.”
I shot him a look as I slid into the passenger seat of his car. “And you think I have? I called her a Stepford wife when she came to tell me you were here.”
“Did she act like that yesterday when you came over?”
“No, she was shuffling around in her robe still.” I glanced down at my phone when it buzzed twice, and my jaw dropped and eyes widened in horror when I read the texts from my mom.
U have condiments just in case, right?
CONDOMS. I meant condoms! Y did it change what I wrote?
“What?”
Dropping my head, I shook it back and forth as I started laughing uncontrollably at the ridiculousness of this morning so far, and held my phone up for Jagger to see.
“Oh Christ,” he mumbled, and nudged my leg into the car before shutting my door. Once he was in the driver’s seat, he turned on the car and threw it in reverse, his face covered in shock until we hit the road. “Did she, uh . . . was she like this with you and Ben?”