Evin's Fight (Southern Charmers 3)
“Sweet of her.”
“Yeah, sweet,” he grumbles, rolling my bag to his closet.
I glance around the room, once again loving it. He comes out and his shirt, shoes, and socks are gone. My tongue runs over my lips, wanting to lick every dip and ridge of his muscular torso.
“You hungry?”
“Not for food.”
“Thank fuck, I’ve been waiting all day to make love to my wife in our new bed.”
A rush of desire floods my body and I kick off my sandals. “We should shower first.”
His eyes turn copper, and he’s in my space, whipping my dress over my head. “Sounds like a plan.”
“I’m better than good,” I ensure Ryanne, flipping the screen to the view from Evin’s deck.
“Yeah, I’d be good with that, too,” she sighs.
“I need to go, they’ll be here soon.”
As I say it, a woman comes around the corner of Evin’s townhouse, and my body stills. She’s a beautiful version of Darby and Evin mixed with slight age. “I knew if Evin found the one, she’d be on this back patio looking at his view,” she speaks directly to me.
“Holy shit,” Ryanne quips.
“I need to go.”
“Don’t cut me off now. I can witness this!”
I hit end on my best friend, holding the stare of my new mother-in-law.
The French doors open behind me, and Evin wraps around me instantly.
“Jesus, Mom, there’s a reason I have a front door. Why the hell are you creeping around my house?”
She ignores his rudeness, her gaze dropping to where his arms link around my waist and back up to his face in my neck. My skin prickles, realizing this is an intimate position to be meeting her for the first time. When her eyes level with mine again, they are shining. “You wear flowers in your hair.”
I don’t know how to respond, gripping my phone to the point of pain.
A man shuffles by us and goes to her side. “Edward, I think I have something in my eye.”
“Annie, you are full of shit.”
Evin grumbles, pulling me tighter. “You could have come through the proper—”
I elbow him lightly and give a wave. “Hi, Annie and Edward.”
She moves quickly, pulling me from Evin’s hold. “Poppy.” The way she sings my name is not only motherly but loaded with approval.
“Thank you for the wonderful gift basket.”
She smiles widely and slices her eyes to her husband. “Told you it was a pleasant thing to do.”
“I didn’t argue. Now can you let her go?”
Like Evin, Edward towers over me, and I have to lunge up to hug him. “Nice to meet you.”
“Pleasure is all mine. We’ve been looking forward to it.” He squeezes gently and moves me back to Evin.
An edge of anxiety knots in my stomach when I catch Annie zeroed in on my left hand. It takes all I can to not fidget.
“That ring is unique.”
A bead of sweat rolls down my spine, unsure how to respond and wondering which she is referring to.
“Is it a flower?” she inquires.
“It is. The petals are hammered.” I show, pointing out the handiwork.
“And this is exquisite.” She rolls her thumb over my diamond and ruby band.
“Thank you, it belonged to my grandmother. My grandparents were English, and grandma adored her dinner rings,” I rush to say, hoping it sounds believable.
“Such a nice combination.”
“Can we discuss antique heirlooms over breakfast? I’m starving,” Evin mutters in annoyance.
“You should have had a snack,” Annie shoots back in her own annoyance.
“You don’t have snacks before breakfast, Mom. That’s why it’s called breakfast.”
“Gotta agree with my boy. That oatmeal has worn off.” Edward taps his trim stomach. “Plus, whatever is cooking has my mouth watering,”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from giggling, but a snort escapes and my hand flies to my mouth. Few people would refer to Evin as a boy.
Annie looks over my shoulder to Evin. “You cooked?”
“Poppy insisted.”
She jerks her attention my way. “You cooked?”
“Ashlyn stocked Evin’s house with everything I needed to make something easy.” Evin pinches my side at the term ‘Evin’s house', but I go on. “Outside of your dinner last night, Evin and I have eaten out every meal. I hope you don’t mind.”
“That sounds lovely. I could have cooked, too.”
“Plus, it allows for a much more casual setting. We can spend time together here before the craziness of the weekend.”
A myriad of emotions passes over her face before she squares her shoulders, and I know I’ve said the right thing. “How can I help?”
“Evin tells me the canned biscuits are nothing against yours. Will you make them?”
I lie through my teeth, but her face is worth it. “Canned biscuits! Who has canned biscuits?” She focuses back on him. “Do you have what I need?”
“You left it here last time,” he answers with a hint of amusement.
Without another word, she brushes past us into the house.