by RC Boldt
Lawson’s take: I read this two times and I think the Segal guy was a few Corinthians short of a Bible. Just sayin’.
~
“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU GOT me to do this. How did you talk me into it?” She turned to look at Lawson as he drove down I-95 to Saint Augustine where his parents lived. They were going to have dinner with them and his grandmother since it was his Gran’s birthday.
His lips quirked but his eyes stayed focused on the road since it was five o’clock on a Friday evening and the traffic was heavy. “I told you if you agreed to come along that I would make out with you later and let you feel me up. You instantly agreed.”
“Is that how it happened?” she asked, humor lacing her tone.
“Totally.”
She rolled her eyes, turning to look out the window at the passing cars, a soft smile upon her face even amidst the trace of nervousness in the pit of her stomach at the prospect of meeting Lawson’s family.
His parents had been out of town recently, on the East Coast visiting in honor of their friend’s sixtieth birthday. According to Laws, they’d been disappointed when they found out that Miller and Tate had decided to have their wedding during the same timeframe, as they would’ve loved to have been present for it. Unfortunately, they made the flight reservations months in advance for their friend’s birthday—before Miller and Tate had announced their plans on such short notice—so they had been unable to modify their trip.
Would they like her? What would they think of her? She’d never been brought home to meet anyone’s parents before so she didn’t know what to expect. What if they hated her? What if they—
“Stop.” Lawson’s voice startled her, drawing her from her thoughts. Turning to face him, she saw him glance over at her quickly before returning his attention to the road. He held out his hand, palm side facing up, and she carefully slid hers into it. When he closed his fingers around hers, she couldn’t withhold a sigh. Because with that simple gesture, that simple touch, she felt a sense of calmness settle over her.
He raised their joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to the top of her hand. “Stop overthinking, stop stressing.” He glanced at her, winking. “They’ll love you.”
“How do you know?” she couldn’t help but ask.
He didn’t respond immediately as he took the exit ramp and came to a stop at the end of it, the traffic signal red. When he turned to look at her, the tenderness in his gaze made her breath catch.
“Because the rest of us already do. It’s pretty much guaranteed that they’ll follow suit.”
Before she could form a response, the light turned green and he accelerated, his attention back on the road as they made their way through the streets of Saint Augustine.
“Because the rest of us already do.”
Did that mean that he already …
Her brows furrowed in thought as she stared out the window, unseeing, as they drove to his parents’ house. Before she could question him further, he pulled his SUV into the driveway of a pale peach-colored stucco home with Spanish tile.
Putting the vehicle into park and turning off the ignition, he exited the SUV, coming around to her side. When he opened the door, she met his eyes, allowing him to take her hand and help her step down. Lawson slid an arm around her waist, gently pulling her closer to him.
He dipped his head, touching his forehead to hers, and whispered, his hot, minty breath against her lips, “You look beautiful, Lee.” He kissed her softly before leaning back with a wide grin. “You’ll see why I’ve been telling you not to be nervous once you meet my Gran.”
Baffled, she asked, “What does that—”
“Lawson! Are you and your hot piece gonna get in here, or will we have to eat without you? I’ve got a hot date tonight so—” a voice called out.
“Mom, stop! Get back inside the house before the neighbors find out you’ve escaped from the mental hospital,” came a man’s voice, whom Langley assumed was Lawson’s father.
“Don’t start with me or I’ll tell you all about the night you were conceived.”
“Get inside, crazy woman.” The voices trailed off.
She chuckled silently, her forehead resting on Lawson’s chest, feeling it rumble beneath her with his own laughter.
“Welcome to my crazy family.” His tone held a mixture of humor and affection. “Ready to brave them with me?”
Lifting her head, she smiled up at him. “Ready.”
Something shifted in his eyes, a look coming over him, and his hands reached out to cup her face reverently before leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. She felt as though he had only intended for the kiss to be chaste, quick, but something made her slide her hands around his back and raise up on her toes, tilting her head to deepen it. When her tongue slid past his lips to tangle with his own, his low moan sent a thrill of gratification running through her.
Backing her up against the SUV, his fingers slid into her hair, his grasp tightening as if he felt the same urgency. As if he felt the same way, felt like he couldn’t get close enough, that one taste wasn’t enough, that—
“Lawwwwwsonnnn!” They broke apart, ending their embrace when they heard Lawson’s grandmother call out, voice booming, “I’m hungry! I’m old and this might be my last meal. Surely you wouldn’t want me to meet my maker on an empty stomach, would you?” There was a brief pause. “Plus, I have a date tonight with Ernest and he’s got quite the stamina, so I—”
“That’s enough, Gran!” Lawson replied out with a mixture of dismay and amusement. “We’re coming now.”
“I don’t need to know all that. Better clean yourselves up first.” The older woman cackled at her own dirty innuendo.
Blue eyes sparkling with laughter, he gently leaned his forehead against hers, eyes falling closed for a moment, and whispered, “What was I thinking bringing you here amidst the madness?”
She couldn’t resist whispering back, “Be all right, I will.”
His head lifted and the look in his eyes right then made something tighten in her chest. The corner of his mouth tilted. “Ready to experience the madness, are you?”
Bringing her lips to his, she answered, “With you, yes,” before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. As they turned toward the house, she held out her hand, and he grasped it, bringing it up to press a kiss to it. Heading up the driveway before turning to walk along the large paving stones leading up to the house, she stopped, giving a gentle tug on his hand. Once his concerned gaze met hers, she told him softly, “Thank you.”
He looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “For bringing you to visit the equivalent of an insane asylum?”
She gave a slight shrug. “I’ve never been brought home to meet the parents before. Guess I’ve never been,” she looked away, slightly embarrassed, “important enough.” When her eyes finally darted back to his, she was taken aback by the tenderness in them.
Giving a tug on their joined hands and pulling her closer to him, he slid his other hand up along the side of her face. Swallowing hard, he murmured, “Two things.”
Curiously, she said, “One?”
“Thank you for coming here with me tonight.”
“And two?”
He gazed at her with a reverent expression. “Lee, you are important.” His thumb caressed her cheek, gaze still holding hers when he added, “You have no idea how important you are.”
With the way Lawson was looking down at her, the way he spoke with such assuredness, such certainty, she felt herself wanting to believe him.
Felt like there was already a small part of her that did.
C
HAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sattinger’s law: It always works better if you plug it in first.
Langley’s take: This is true. Especially if you’re Lawson’s mother.
~
“PAUL, THIS DARN THING ISN’T working,” Lawson’s mother called out from the kitchen. She, Lawson, Lawson’s father, and grandmother were al
l sitting in the living room. After she had been damn near hugged to death by Lawson’s mother, the woman had escaped to the kitchen to finish dinner preparations, insisting that they all “sit back and relax for a moment”.
And that thing about the knick knacks that Lawson had mentioned? Oh, holy shit, he wasn’t kidding. She thought she’d have an easier time counting the available space on the walls instead of counting the number of decorations.
Mrs. Briggs loved to decorate, that much was evident. It looked like someone decided to implement all of the decoration ideas from every issue of Better Homes and Gardens magazine.
Alllllll of the ideas. At once.
“First of all, what ‘thing’?” Lawson’s father called out, not rising from his recliner. Lowering his voice, he told them, “That woman worries me sometimes, I tell you.”
She smiled, hearing the affection in his voice.
“Paul, the blender isn’t working.”
“Did you plug it in?” Lawson’s father rolled his eyes and whispered, “Wait for it …” The sound of the blender working made them all chuckle. “She called me the other day when she drove to downtown Jacksonville and was trying to enter one of the parking garages. Said the arm wouldn’t go up and no one was around to let her in. I finally had to ask her if she pressed the button to get a ticket.
“So, she goes,” he imitated his wife’s voice, “‘Oh, there’s a button? Oh, geez, there’s that little doohickey.’” He burst into laughter, the rest of them joining him.
“So,” Lawson’s grandmother began, eyeing her with avid curiosity, “tell me, Lee, what are your intentions with my grandson. Are you planning on using him to get your jollies off or—”
“Mother!” Mr. Briggs scolded.
“Gran.” Lawson’s tone was one of humorous exasperation, as if he were used to this little gray-haired spitfire of a woman.
Gran threw her hands up. “What? I need to know if she’s going to make you her bitch or not.”
Her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline at that. “Whoa.”
“Mom, stop harassing her.” Mr. Briggs’ brows furrowed as he shot a look of consternation to his mother before turning to her. “Don’t mind her. She’s a little off.”
Gran harrumphed. “I still think we need to be sure that she’s on the up and up. After all, this is my grandson we’re talking about. And he’s never brought a girl home to—”
“Of course Lee’s going to make me her bitch,” Lawson interrupted his grandmother with an odd expression. Appearing to recover, he grinned before announcing proudly, “She’s a badass former combat pararescue jumper.”
“That’s right,” Mr. Briggs commented. “Lawson told us about that.” He nodded, appearing impressed. “Thank you for your service.”
She felt a nudge to her side. Looking over to where Gran sat beside her, Lawson on the opposite side, she watched as the woman cocked an eyebrow. “He’s nicknamed you Lee, huh? Pet names already?” The older woman leaned closer, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Does he do the dirty talk with you, too?”
“Sweet Jesus, Mother!”
“Gran,” Lawson said with dismayed laughter. “You’re killing me, here.”
“What?” Gran’s shoulder lifted in indifference. “When me and my Ernest get together, we like to do the dirty talk.” Leaning in conspiratorially, she spoke out the side of her mouth, “Sometimes, it takes a moment for that damn, little blue pill to kick in so it helps when I talk to him like that and—”
“Sharon!” Mr. Briggs suddenly called out to Lawson’s mother.
“Yes, dear?”
“You about ready?”
“Yes, I’m just finishing up making the margaritas,” Mrs. Briggs answered.
“Thank God,” Mr. Briggs muttered, standing from his recliner. Looking over at them, he gestured for them to walk to the dining room. “Come on, kids. Let’s eat before my mother ruins all of our appetites.”
Standing from the couch, she, Lawson, and his grandmother made their way to the dining room, Lawson’s mother having already laid the various dishes of food upon it.
Gran neared Lawson, linking her arm through his. “Tell me the truth. You shaved the beard and left the goatee because you like the whole flavor-saver thing, right?”
Lawson shook his head with a chuckle. “Actually, I shaved it all off. The goatee is new.”
With an odd look, Gran asked, “You shaved it all off? Why’d you go and do that?”
“Lee said she didn’t like beards.”
Gran turned to her. “Lee? Is this true?”
Stopping at the table, unsure of the seating arrangement, she looked over at Lawson’s grandmother. “I, uh, really didn’t have a thing for beards.” Holding her hands up in defense, she added, “But I didn’t tell him to shave it off.”
Gran peered at her. “Honey, don’t you know anything? Men with facial hair are more dominant.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “And we all know from that Fifty Shades of something movie that all the women love that stuff.” Stepping closer to the table before sliding into a chair, she patted the back of the one beside her. “Sit next to me, Lee, and fill me in on my grandson.”
“Um …” She hesitated, glancing over at Lawson before slowly lowering herself onto the dining room chair.
“Now tell me,” Gran leaned in toward her, “does he tie you up? Because me and my Ernest, we like to do—”
“Gran,” Lawson cut her off with a look.
“Jesus, Mother.” Mr. Briggs shook his head in dismay. “You’re making my queasy with your sex talk.”
Lawson’s mother emerged from the kitchen carrying a large pitcher. “Ta-da! Lee, I hope you enjoy margaritas!”
She exchanged a look with Lawson and he grinned, giving her a quick wink. And, damn, if that wink, those blue eyes sparkling with humor didn’t send warmth running through her.
“Tell me, Lee,” Mrs. Briggs poured the margaritas into glasses before placing them on each person’s coaster upon the table, “how did you ever manage to do what you did in the military? I’m absolutely fascinated, honey.” Lawson’s mother took her own seat at the other end of the table opposite her husband, eyes alit with interest.
“Well,” she began, “I had to be in top form, the best shape of my life—and then some—to be able to do my job.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I’ve definitely dropped a lot of weight, mostly muscle, since leaving the military. I had to do a lot of strength training and build up a ton of muscle in order to be able to carry out my duties.”
Mr. Briggs stated, “I’ve seen a documentary recently about the PJs and their training. Pretty impressive stuff.” He paused. “So you honestly had to carry one of those guys on your shoulders on a hike?”
Nodding, she answered, “Yes, sir. We were required to be physically capable of carrying our teammates out of harm’s way, if necessary.”
“Wow. Well done. Well done,” Mr. Briggs remarked with fascinated interest. “I’d love to hear more.”
“Paul,” Mrs. Briggs began, “why don’t we say grace so the kids can eat?” Flashing a smile at her and Lawson, she added, “I’m sure you kids are starving.”
“I’ll say grace,” Gran piped up from beside her. Reaching over to grasp her hand, she bowed her head, everyone following suit.
“Let us pray. God bless this family and our lovely Lee who is visiting with us today. God bless this food that will give us sustenance, and those margaritas which will lower our inhibitions and probably get Lawson some action toni—”
“Mother.” Mr. Briggs’ voice was low with warning. Raising her eyes to look over at Lawson, she met his gaze, dancing with humor.
Letting out an exasperated sigh, Gran continued. “God, thank you for this meal and for my low blood pressure which allows me to,” the woman paused, and even with a bowed head, eyes downcast, she knew that the older woman had likely received a warning look from Mr. Briggs. “Partake in wonderful activities. In your name we pray, Amen.”
T
hat was one hell of a meal-time prayer, she thought to herself with an inward laugh, as they all chanted their “Amen”.
While Lawson’s mother began passing the various dishes around the table for everyone to serve themselves, she inquired, “So, Lee, where does your family live?”
She felt herself deflate a little at Mrs. Briggs’ question, and even as innocent as the other woman’s intentions were, it still stung.
“Back in New Mexico.” Her answer was brief because she really didn’t want to discuss Regina.
As if sensing her discomfort, Lawson spoke up. “Hey, Gran. What’s all this talk about Ernest? What happened to your other boyfriend?”
“Oh, that crazy one. Vernon … well, he only wanted anal.”
Promptly, Lawson’s mother spewed forth the margarita she’d just sipped simultaneously as Mr. Briggs began scolding his mother for her language at the dinner table.
And, when her eyes met Lawson’s across the table, she saw in the depths of them the knowledge, the awareness. He had known she hadn’t wanted to discuss her mother and had come to her rescue.
Lawson Briggs, her white knight amidst the crazy dinner conversation which included talk of his grandmother’s multiple boyfriends and their sexual escapades.
Would wonders never cease? Because at that moment, she couldn’t imagine being—or wanting to be—anywhere else.
As long as Lawson was by her side.
C
HAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Goldwyn’s law of contracts: A verbal contract isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.
Lawson’s take: But, when there’s enough trust between the parties … then it’s worth its weight in gold.
~
“DID MY FAMILY COMPLETELY SCARE the shit out of you? Is that why you’re being all quiet over there?” He shot her a questioning glance.
Lee had been sitting far quieter than normal in the passenger seat of the vehicle after they’d said their good-byes to his crazy family. He was beginning to get worried. Headlights from the surrounding vehicles reflected within the SUV as they drove up I-95 to make their way back to Fernandina Beach.