Beth Andrews - What Happens Between Friends

He went to the other side of the square island and searched through the well-stocked, built-in wine rack. Pulled out a bottle of merlot along with one of pinot blanc. “Don’t tell me, Anne prefers merlot.”

Beaming, Rose patted his cheek. “You always were a bright child.”

Bright enough to know arguing with his mother would do him no good. The best way to handle this was to grin and bear it.

He opened the bottle of white, set it aside to breathe. He didn’t have anything against Anne, or pretty brunettes in general. But he could, and often did, get his own dates. He didn’t need his mommy setting him up.

“Dad wants to know if the coffee’s ready,” James’s younger brother, Eddie, said as he came through the kitchen door.

“The regular is about done,” Rose said, “but the decaf is going to take a few minutes.”

Eddie grabbed a cup from the tray and reached for the pot. “He won’t know the difference.”

Rose slapped the back of his hand. “If you give him regular, he won’t sleep. And when your father doesn’t sleep, I don’t sleep. Mostly because he keeps me awake until the wee hours of the morning with all his tossing and turning. You’ll give him decaf or I’m sending him home with you and Max tonight.”

“No need for threats. I’ll give him decaf.” He turned to James. “Meg Simpson’s looking for you. Said she wants to discuss us doing an addition at their cottage on the lake next year.”

“She’ll have to wait,” he said mildly, lifting the merlot bottle. “I’m getting my future wife a drink.”

Eddie raised his dark eyebrows. Shorter than both James and their youngest brother, Leo, but broader through the shoulders, he had their father’s muscular build and their mother’s hazel eyes. “Future wife?”

Nodding, James pulled the cork from the merlot. “It’s all thanks to Mom. She got me a girl for my birthday.”

Rose shook her head. “Now, James. Really. A girl?”

“Sorry. Woman.”

Eddie helped himself to a strawberry from the fruit-and-cheese tray Rose was putting together. “She got me a watch for my last birthday.”

“Maybe she’ll get you your very own woman for Christmas,” James said.

Eddie gave one of his reticent shrugs. “A man can hope.”

“Meg Simpson wants to talk to you,” Leo told James as he came in carrying dirty dessert dishes.

“Yeah. I got that memo.”

Leo put the plates in the sink. “A customer wants to talk to you about doing a new job and you’re not racing out there with your handy schedule and charts and whatnot?” He studied each of them, his dark eyes narrowed. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“Mom got him a girl for his birthday,” Eddie said.

“Yeah?” Leo grinned, slow and wicked. “Which one?”

“Kloss’s new painter,” James said. “Tall brunette in a blue dress in the living room.”

Leo and Eddie exchanged a glance then both walked out only to return less than thirty seconds later. “She’s hot,” Leo said. “Excellent legs, nice ra—”

Rose slapped him upside the head.

“Shoes,” he amended quickly, holding his hand over the spot she’d slapped. He stepped out of range. “Really nice shoes. Good choice, Mom.”

“Thank you,” she said, pouring the regular coffee into an insulated carafe. “I’m glad one of my sons appreciates my efforts.”

“Guilt?” James asked. “That’s beneath you.”

Leo smiled, the same smile that had made fools of hundreds of women. Females. Always falling for a pretty face. “If he doesn’t want her, can I have her?”

“Absolutely not.” Rose turned to James. “My goodness, the way you’re acting, you’d think I bought you a Russian mail-order bride and had you legally wed without your knowledge. All I did was invite a lovely, interesting, nice woman to your party. Is that so wrong?” she cried with the dramatic flair he’d come to know and love.

Eddie pursed his lips and, as usual, wisely kept quiet. Leo rolled his eyes.

James showed his appreciation with quiet applause that had Zoe lifting her head, her tail wagging. “That was true Oscar material. Bravo.”

Leo snorted. “I’ve seen her do better. It was lacking something. It needed more...action. Drama. Maybe next time,” he told Rose, “thump your fist over your heart. Gnash your teeth. Rip at your hair. Don’t hold back.”

Rose gave him one of her patented disdainful sniffs. “Everyone’s a critic.”

“Hey, you know my motto—go big or go home.”

“I wish you’d go home,” James said with feeling. He turned to his mom. “And I wish you wouldn’t set me up, especially without asking first. Especially on my birthday,” he added.

Guilt may have been beneath his mom, but he wasn’t above using it himself.

Sometimes a man had to fight fire with fire.

Rose rounded her eyes. “It’s your birthday? Today? Why, that must’ve completely slipped my mind, which is strange as I’m usually good with dates and things. Oh...wait...” Frowning, she pressed her fingertips against her temples. “Is today the twenty-first? Because I’m getting this vague memory of being in labor on this date years ago for...let me see...”

“Twenty-nine and a half hours,” James, Eddie and Leo said in unison.

Rose’s hazel eyes gleamed, but her expression remained as serious as a heart attack. “Yes, that’s right. It’s all coming back to me now. Then again, it’s hard to forget twenty-nine—”

“And a half,” the brothers added.

“Twenty-nine and a half hours of excruciating pain. And that’s not even including pushing you—and your rather large head—out.”

Wincing, feeling more than a little sick to his stomach, James rubbed the back of his regular-size head. And conceded defeat. “I appreciate it. I think. Next year, I’m throwing you a party.”

“The flowers you send every year are more than enough, thanks.” She laid her hand on his arm. “Can’t you give Anne a chance? Just talk to her. Get to know her a bit. That’s all I’m asking.”

He sighed. He knew his mom wanted him settled. Married.

Hell, he wanted that, too. Wanted a family of his own, a wife in his bed, a couple of kids running around his house. He’d always figured it hadn’t happened yet because it wasn’t meant to, but that it would. Someday.

Since he had no control over when, exactly, that day would arrive, he didn’t bother worrying about it. It was useless, and a waste of energy, to fight the ebb and flow of life. Better to focus on keeping your head above water and just ride the waves out.

But maybe, this one time, he could try paddling and get where he was going faster.

Even if his mother was doing the steering.

“I’ll talk to her some more,” he said. What could it hurt? “But I’m not making any promises.”

“No promises. Got it.”

She hugged him. Looking over her head, James glanced at Leo who mouthed, “Sucker.”

James flipped him off.

“Leo,” Rose said as she broke the hug. “Please make another pot of coffee while Eddie and I take these trays out.”

“If you keep feeding people,” Eddie grumbled, “they’ll never leave.”

Rose handed him the coffee tray. “Your unsociable side is showing again.”

“Does he have any other side?” Leo asked.

“God, I hope so.” At the door, she looked back at James. “Don’t forget the wine.”

She swept out of the room, as regal as a queen, as formidable as a Navy SEAL.

“Yeah,” Leo said, rinsing the coffeepot. “And don’t forget the engagement ring.”

James stepped forward, ready to dunk his brother’s fat head under the running water, when his phone buzzed. He took it out, checked the caller ID. And, grinning, answered.