Susan Mallery - Three Little Words

“Like you thinking I can’t make my own coffee?”

“I’m worried about you.”

He was worried, too. Worried that coming back home had been a mistake.

When he’d first arrived, he’d stayed in the family home because it had been easy. Only he’d awakened more than once to find his mother hovering. What she couldn’t possibly know was that with his military training, he didn’t react well to people hovering while he slept. Sneaking around like that was a good way to get dead.

So he’d moved out and into a house with Consuelo and Angel. Only he and Angel were too competitive for that kind of arrangement, so he’d been forced to move again. Technically, Consuelo had threatened to gut him if he didn’t, but he was going to ignore that. In a fair fight, he could take her. The problem was Consuelo didn’t fight fair.

He’d found what he thought was the perfect apartment. Close to work, quiet and away from his mother.

He sat across from the woman who had given birth to him and held out his hand.

She blinked at him. “What?”

“The key.”

Denise was in her mid-fifties. Pretty, with highlighted hair and eyes. She’d survived six kids, including triplet girls, and the death of her husband. A couple of years ago, she’d fallen in love with a guy she’d known in high school. Or maybe after. His sisters had written Ford about the romance. As far as he was concerned, his mom had been a faithful widow over a decade. If she found someone else at this stage in her life, he was happy for her.

“You mean the key to the—”

“Apartment,” he finished. “Hand it over.”

“But, Ford, I’m your mother.”

“I’ve known who you are for a while now. Mom, you can’t keep doing this. Dropping in on me. You have grandkids. Go freak them out.”

Her dark eyes filled with emotion. “But you’ve been gone for so long. You almost never came home. I had to travel to other places to see you, and you didn’t even let me do that very often.”

He wanted to point out that she was the reason why. She smothered him. He knew that of the three boys, he was the youngest, but he’d grown up a long time ago.

“Mom, I was a SEAL. I know how to take care of myself. Give me the key.”

“What if you lock yourself out? What if there’s an emergency?”

He didn’t say anything. He kept his gaze steady and determined. She was no more threatening than a Kalashnikov, and he’d faced plenty of those in his day.

“Fine,” she said, her voice small. She pulled a key from her jeans pocket and dropped it into his palm. He closed his fingers around it.

The part of him that knew his family wanted to ask if she’d made a copy. He figured he would wait to see if that turned out to be a problem. For now it was enough that she wasn’t going to pop in when he least expected her.

“You probably want me to go,” she whispered.

“Mom, don’t be a martyr. I love you. I’m home. Can’t that be enough for now?”

She sniffed, then nodded. “You’re right. I’m glad you’re home and staying in Fool’s Gold. I’ll give you a couple of days to settle in, then call. We can go to lunch or you can come over to dinner. How’s that?”

“Perfect.”

She rose. He did the same. He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. They headed for the door. She opened it and stepped onto the small landing at the top of the stairs. He’d nearly breathed the sweet air of freedom when she turned back to him.

“Did you get a chance to look at those files I sent you?” she asked. “There are several lovely girls.”

“Mom,” he began, his voice warning.

She faced him. “Honey, no. You’ve been on your own for too long. You need to get married and start a family. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

“I love you, too,” he said, gently pushing her out the door and closing it before she could say anything else he would regret.

“I want you married, Ford,” she yelled through the closed door. “I have the applications on my computer, if you want to go through them. They’re on a spreadsheet so you can sort them by different criteria.”

She was still yelling when he reached the bedroom and closed that door, as well.

CHAPTER TWO

ISABEL TURNED HER CART down an aisle and knew a lack of inspiration would be a problem later. If she didn’t figure out what she wanted for dinner, she would be starving in a couple of hours. Ordering a pizza at eight-thirty, then eating the whole thing was very bad for her hips and thighs. Remembering that the women in her family eased toward pear-shaped as they aged, she headed for the produce section and virtuously chose a bag of salad. Great. She had salad and red wine and a very small container of ice cream. Disparate elements that did not a dinner make.

She started purposefully toward the meat section, not sure what she would do when she got there. As she turned the corner, she nearly ran into another shopper.

“Sorry,” she said automatically, only to find herself staring into a pair of dark eyes. “Ford.”

He smiled. It was the same slow, sexy smile he’d used before. The one that made it hard for her to catch her breath. Telling herself that he tossed that smile around like empty peanut shells at a ball game didn’t make her chest any less tight. Which was so very strange. She’d never been one to quiver in the presence of a man.

“Hey,” he said. He raised his basket. “Food shopping.”

“Me, too.” She glanced at the package of steaks and the six-pack of beer. “That’s your idea of dinner?”

“You have ice cream and red wine.”

“I have salad,” she said with a sniff. “That makes me virtuous.”

“It makes you a rabbit. And hungry.” The smile turned to a grin. “I saw a grill on your patio the other day. Why don’t we pool our resources?”

A tempting offer. “You want the wine and the ice cream.”

“True, but I’ll eat the salad, just to be polite.”

“Such a guy. Do you know how to use the grill? It’s big and seems complicated.”

One eyebrow rose. “I was born knowing how. It’s in my DNA.”

“Which seems like a waste of genetic material.”

Somehow they were walking. She didn’t remember making a decision about accepting his offer, but there they were, in line to pay. Five minutes later they were in the parking lot and heading to their cars.

They got to his first.

“Seriously?” she asked, staring at the black Jeep.

“It’s a classic.”

She pointed to the gold paint on the side. “It has flames. Jeeps have a long history of faithful service. Why would you torture yours like that?”

“You don’t like it? Why not? The flames are cool.”

“No. Consuelo’s car is cool. Yours is kind of embarrassing.”

“I bought it right after your sister dumped me for my best friend. I wasn’t myself.”

“That was fourteen years ago. Why haven’t you sold it?”

“I never drive it and it’s in great condition. When I decided to move back, Ethan got it ready for me.”

“Being seen near it must have humiliated him,” she teased, knowing Ford’s brother would have been happy to help. “Doesn’t Angel drive a Harley?”

Ford frowned at the mention of his business partner. “How do you know that?”

“It’s hard to miss a guy like him in black leather and driving a motorcycle in Fool’s Gold.”

“You drive a Prius,” he said. “You don’t get to make judgments.”

“You mean because I drive a safe, sensible, environmentally friendly car?”

“Logic,” he muttered. “Just like a woman.”

He helped her load her groceries, which consisted of a single bag. Something she could have handled herself. Still, it was kind of nice to have a man do that for her. Eric had supported her desire for equality, letting her lug her half of the groceries when they went shopping. Which was perfectly fair, she reminded herself. If not especially romantic.