Insta Holiday (Justice)

She arches a brow. “What about your place?”

“What about it?”

“How come you’ve never invited me over?”

“I have a lot of times. You’ve always said no.” I open the passenger door and boost her inside. “But, yeah, we can go to my place. My mom’s probably home.”

“Oh.”

That’s an unenthusiastic, almost disappointed, sound. Frowning, I make my way to the driver’s side.

She waits until I’m buckled in to ask, “What about Sterling’s place? Doesn’t he have a house in the back sixty?”

“That’s his cousin Tucker’s hideaway. Why do you want to see that?” I start the engine.

“I don’t,” she groans. “Tyson Carter, can’t you tell what I’m hinting at?”

“No.” I really don’t.

“I want to give you a present.” She waves her hand at her lap.

My eyes pop wide. “Why didn’t you say so?” I grin and step on the gas.

“I was trying to be discreet.“

“Just come out and say you want to fondle the family jewels. We’ll go to my place.”

“No. Your mom is there.”

“She won’t care, besides she’ll be in the greenhouse, which is a mile from my bedroom.” It’s not, but the little lie is bound to make Rory feel better.

Rory slumps into the corner between the seat and the door. “I can’t do it. Just take me home.”

“No way.”

“I can’t meet your mother like this. Look at me.” She pulls her T-shirt away from her chest.

“I can’t. I mean, I want to, but I’m driving. You looked fine while we were shopping.”

“Fine? A girl can’t look fine meeting her—" She trails off.

“Boyfriend,” I supply. “Her boyfriend’s mom? Maybe other girls can’t, but mine can because my mom is awesome and my girl is awesome.”

“Please don’t make me.”

But it’s too late since I’ve already pulled up in front of the big colonial with its plaster columns holding up a wide second-story veranda that stretches across the front of the house. Mom must’ve seen me coming down the street because she’s on the porch waving merrily at me.

I reach over and squeeze Rory’s hand. “She’s going to be thrilled. I promise.”

Rory makes some whimpering noise and slides even further down the seat so only the top of her head can be seen over the door. I climb out and run up the stairs to my mom.

“Got my girl in the truck. She says she can’t meet you because she’s not dolled up. I told her it wouldn’t matter,” I whisper into my mom’s ear.

“Rory?” She immediately shoves me aside and trots down the steps. “Rory! It’s me, Tyson’s mom.” She pulls the door open and has Rory on the sidewalk and under her arm before Rory can answer. “Call me Cherie. I’m so happy you’ve stopped by. Tyson can’t stop talking about you, and I’ve been dying to meet you. I’m sorry for looking like a mess. I was gardening.”

Mom’s wearing pink pants with a white floral blouse, looking like a fresh peony.

“Mrs. Carter, you look gorgeous while I’m dressed in an old T-shirt and jeans and I smell like food.”

“Good food, though. It’s from the cafe, right? Tammy is always whipping up the most delicious things.”

“Mom, give Rory a moment to breathe.” I hold the door open for them.

“Am I coming on too strong? I’m not, am I?” She squeezes Rory tighter, and Rory—well, she looks dazed but happy. “Honey, go put the kettle on, and we’ll make some mulled cider for you two to enjoy while I finish up in the garden. You staying for dinner? Any dietary concerns?”

“No, Mrs. Carter. I have to go home and feed my brothers.”

“Can’t they come here?” Mom turns pleading eyes in my direction. “You’ll go get the boys and bring them right over, won’t you, Tyson?”

My gaze flicks down to Rory’s. Her plans to give me a private present are going down the tubes, but in exchange for our sacrifice, her family is getting to know mine, and that’s a worthwhile trade.

“Sure, Mom, but let me have some time with Rory. The boys are still in school.”

Mom thwacks her palm against her head. “Of course they are. This is perfect. I’ll go put everything away in the greenhouse. You turn the oven on and mix up the biscuit dough.”

Rory turns to me in shock. “You can make biscuits?”

“Don’t you watch my channel? Those are some of my most viewed videos.”

“I filmed those on my camera,” Mom brags.

“Rory will stand in for you this time, won’t you, Rory?”

“I sure will.”

Mom beams. “All right. You two kids start dinner, and I’ll be back.”

As soon as the back door shuts, I pull Rory into my arms. “Want to see how fast I can make you come?”

“No!” She shouts and wriggles free. “You have biscuits to make.”

I shrug. “It was worth a shot.”

CHAPTER 16

RORY

I’m not going to say anything. I’m not going to say anything. I’m not going to say anything, I repeat on a loop in my mind.