Stumbling Into Love (Fluke My Life 2)

“Fine. I’ll leave it alone.”

“Thank you.”

“Whatever.” I pout, and he smiles, then kisses it away.

“Are you excited about tomorrow?” he asks.

My stomach instantly fills with nervous butterflies. His mom and stepdad are flying in. Christmas is in three days, and since I only have one client in the morning, I stupidly agreed to go with him to the airport to pick them up.

“So totally excited!” I lie.

“Liar.” He kisses my forehead. “It will be fine. My mom will love you.”

“If you say so.” I kiss his scruffy jaw, then smile when my stomach growls. “Are you going to keep kissing me, or are you going to cook me dinner?”

“I don’t know. I like kissing you.”

“Me too.” I kiss him again and again.

About ten minutes later, when my stomach growls loudly, he finally pulls away.

“So what are you making anyway?” I ask him as he grabs a pepper and starts to chop it up.

“Tacos.”

“Yum.” My mouth waters, and he smiles at me. “Did your mom teach you how to cook?” I ask, picking my drink back up.

“She did. After the summer of hot dogs, she taught me. She figured that I would need to know how to cook for myself so I could do it while I was at my dad’s house. The first thing she taught me how to make was fajitas. The second was lasagna.”

“My mom never taught us how to cook. I think she secretly liked keeping us dependent on her for food.”

“I’ll teach you.” He smiles at me, and my heart does some weird double beat.

“You will?”

“Of course. I’m not the best cook, but I know the basics. I can show you those.”

“Well, I know nothing, so you are already a million times better than me.” I laugh and take another sip of soda. I love this. I love how easy things are between us. Spending time with him is like hanging out with my best friend. That’s something I’ve never had with anyone before him.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks as he pulls a pack of tortillas out of the fridge.

“How easy this whole relationship business is with you,” I admit.

I watch as his face gets soft and his eyes get warm.

“Have I told you today how much I like you?” he asks.

My heart skips and my stomach tingles.

“Not today.”

“I like you a lot.”

“Good. Because I like you a lot, too.”

I reach forward, grab hold of his sweater, and pull him toward me. Kissing him once, I let him go and then hop down off the counter to help him finish up dinner.

We eat while watching TV. Then we head to bed for the night, where we do a lot more than just sleep.

“Calm down.”

“You calm down!” I snap at Wesley as his hand tightens around mine. I wonder if he’s afraid I’m going to run away like a coward. I might. “I think this is too soon. Don’t you think it’s too soon for me to meet your mom? Isn’t that something couples do after they have been seeing each other for months and months? Sometimes years and ye—”

His mouth crashes down on mine, and his tongue slips between my parted and stunned lips. Cupping my cheeks, he tips my head to the side to deepen the kiss. It makes me forget that we’re in the middle of a crowed airport where hundreds of people can see us.

“It’s not too soon,” he growls, pulling his mouth away from mine.

“Okay,” I breathe as my eyes flutter open. “I’m just a little bit scared.”

“I know you are. I knew you were this morning, because you asked me a million times what you should wear, if you should wear makeup, and how you should do your hair.”

“It wasn’t a million times,” I mumble.

He grins. “Okay, a hundred thousand times.”

“Whatever.” I blow a strand of hair out of my face.

He runs his thumbs across my cheeks.

“Worst-case scenario, my mom hates you. So I never talk to her again.”

“Your mom wouldn’t be very happy with that plan, sugar pants,” a woman says from behind me.

I close my eyes and groan internally, realizing the woman is his mom.

I force myself to open my eyes, then turn with Wesley to face his mom and her husband. I don’t know what I was expecting his mom to look like, but the blonde standing across from me who looks a lot like Michelle Pfeiffer wasn’t it.

Letting me go, Wesley greets them with a joint hug before stepping back and placing his arm around my waist.

“Mom, I’d like you to meet Mackenzie. Mackenzie, my mom, Monica.”

She smiles at him before looking at me.

“It’s so nice to meet you.” I stick out my hand.

Her eyes drop to my outstretched hand, and she rolls them before pulling me in for a tight hug, saying close to my ear, “We don’t shake hands.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” I whisper as her arms tighten around me.

“You too,” she whispers back, letting me go and taking her husband’s hand. “Mac?” She pauses, tipping her head to the side, studying me briefly. “Can I call you Mac?”

“Of course. Everyone does—except Wesley,” I say.

His arm wraps around my shoulder, and his lips touch the top of my head.

“Mac, this is my husband, Peter.”

“Nice to meet you, Peter.” I smile and try to give him a handshake, but once more I’m pulled in for an unexpected hug.

“Nice to meet you, Mac.”

“You too,” I agree as he lets me go.

“How many bags did you bring, Mom?” Wesley asks as he tucks me right back under his arm.

“Just two,” she says.

Peter clears his throat.

She glares at him. “Fine, three. But one of them doesn’t even count—all it has in it is my makeup and meds.”

“What about my bag? You took up all its space by shoving your shoes in there.”

“You can’t complain about that now. You should have complained when we were home and I was doing it. Now it’s too late.”

“I’m not complaining, doll, just pointing out that you have a lot more stuff than you say you do.”

“Well, I had to bring gifts for my son and his girlfriend.”

My eyes widen. I haven’t gotten her anything for Christmas. Thank goodness I still have a shopping trip planned with Libby and Fawn for tomorrow. It’s something we’ve done every year since we were old enough to go out on our own.

“Let’s go see if your bags have come out. While we wait, you can tell us about your flight,” Wesley suggests, leading us all toward baggage claim.

He keeps a tight hold on my hand—he’s probably more afraid now than ever that I’m going to take off on him. To be honest, for once I’m not thinking about it. All I can think about is the fact that Wesley has made it a point to remind me over and over that I mean something to him and that he has chosen me and will keep on choosing me.

“Are you doing okay?” he asks against my ear.

I tip my head back to look at him and smile. “Totally okay.” I squeeze his fingers, then lean back against him.

I listen as his mom tells us about their trip, and I do it smiling, too.

Chapter 8

THE GIFT THAT KEEPS ON GIVING

MAC

I knock on Miss Ina’s door. I wait for her to answer for a minute, then knock again and press my ear to the door to see if I can hear her coming. I haven’t seen her in a few days, and I’m honestly a little worried. “Miss Ina?” I knock again.

“Child, if you don’t stop knocking on my door and give me a few minutes to walk across the room to answer it, I’m going to beat you with my walker when I open it up,” she grouches.

I let out a relieved breath and smile.