Interception (The New York Nighthawks 2)

“I never thought I would say this, but I’m kind of glad I fell down those stairs.” My mom gestured at her casted leg. “Although the broken bones are going to make the next couple of months a tad tricky, at least I got a spectator seat to this exciting show. The pain is a small price to pay for meeting you and seeing my baby girl.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I grumbled, “Did I suddenly turn invisible or something? Because you two are acting as though I’m not right here. And you’re talking nonsense while you’re doing it.”

“Nonsense? I think not,” my mom scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You just don’t like what we’re saying, that’s all.”

Nixon gave my hand a squeeze. “I’m not sure why. I thought our conversation was going well.”

“Of course, you did,” I muttered.

My mom got a kick out of my reaction and giggled like a schoolgirl. I was starting to wonder if the pain medication was stronger than I realized when she finally pulled herself together and confided, “My daughter has always been more of a girl of action than words. She’s probably going to take some convincing to get on board with what’s happening here.”

“I think you might be right,” Nixon agreed.

“Okay, maybe one of you should clue me in on what’s going on,” I suggested.

My mom and Nixon shared a conspiratorial look before he let go of my hand to cup my face with both of his palms. When he bent his head to brush his lips over mine, my eyes widened. I gasped in surprise over the fact that he was kissing me in front of my mom, and Nixon took full advantage, unconcerned that we had an audience.

His tongue slid inside my mouth to tangle with mine, and it wasn’t long before I lost myself to his kiss and stopped worrying about my mom. The chemistry between us was too strong to withstand the stroke of his lips, the slide of his tongue, or how we breathed each other in. When he lifted his head, I let out a little whimper of protest and clutched at his shoulders.

The sound of my mom’s satisfied laughter pulled me out of my sensual fog. Pressing my fingers against my swollen lips, I turned to look at her with wide eyes. “Oops, sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me for that kiss, sweetie. Not when I goaded your boyfriend into laying it on you.” She beamed a smile at Nixon. “And he did a fine job of distracting you from your annoyance.”

I heaved a deep sigh. “She’s not normally like this. I swear.”

“It’s the drugs.” My mom nodded. “They make me a little loopy.”

I quirked a brow. “A little?”

“Okay, maybe a lot,” she conceded with a grin.

“Hopefully, you’ll still approve of me for your daughter when you’re not on the good stuff.”

Butterflies swirled in my belly at Nixon’s words. Even though he had apparently followed me all the way out here and just kissed me in front of my mom, I was still surprised by how easily he spoke of us as a couple. Our whole conversation since he arrived—and the fact that he was here at all—seemed so surreal.

Tilting my head back to stare up at him, I murmured, “Are you going to be around my mom often enough for her opinion of you to matter?”

“Damn straight, I am,” he growled, a muscle in his jaw jumping as his nostrils flared.

“You are?” I whispered, hope growing in my chest.

“It sounds as though you two have a lot to talk about,” my mom suggested.

Nixon nodded. “We do.”

“Go.” My mom made a shooing motion toward the door. “Your dad shouldn’t be too much longer. I’ll be fine on my own until he comes back.”

“No, Nixon and I can talk later. I came all the way here for you,” I insisted with a shake of my head.

My mom jerked her thumb toward Nixon. “True, but then he came all the way here for you. And I find that a whole lot more interesting. Don’t you?”

“Well, yeah.” I peered up at him through my lashes, feeling shy. Which was unusual for me. And weird, considering all the things he did to my body last night. “I guess so.”

“And I really am fine, sweetie. You heard the doctor yourself. The only reason they’re keeping me is because they want the pain medication to wear off a little before your dad brings me home. I was lucky. No surgery, just this silly cast for the next eight weeks since the bones were still aligned.”

There wasn’t anything silly about the cast on her leg. It went all the way from above her knee to below her ankle, and she was going to need to follow-up with the orthopedic surgeon several times for X-rays to ensure the healing was progressing as needed. They didn’t expect that she’d be back to her normal full activities for at least four months. But that was all much better than if she’d needed surgery to reset the bone like the emergency doctor had originally thought.