Digging Up Trouble

As I debated this, my front door flung open. “Cherie!

You’re home!”

I stared in disbelief. “Mom?”

“Is she finally here?” I heard.

My eyes widened. “Maria?”

“Bobby!” My mother air-kissed his cheeks.

My sister Maria did the same.

“What are you two doing here?” I asked, still staring.

“A surprise makeover! Surprise! We parked down the block and everything!”

“Wh-What?” I mumbled.

“For your house. Really, Nina, it was so outdated,” Maria said. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a fancy chignon, and only she could look gorgeous in a pair of over-alls. Paint splattered the front of them.

Orange paint.

Oh dear God. She was painting something orange.

In my house.

Digging Up Trouble

89

I had to stop her.

Just as I opened my mouth, my mother said, “Now, now, cherie. I know this must be overwhelming, but it must be done. No arguing.”

“But—”

My mother stood firm. “No buts. Knickers and knots, Nina. Knickers and knots.”

“Want to rethink relocating?” Bobby joked from behind me.

I turned and gave him the Ceceri Evil Eye. It had no effect whatsoever, which told me a lot. Men not affected by the Ceceri Evil Eye were keepers.

The forever after kind of keepers.

I swallowed hard.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked.

My mother waved a manicured hand, tucked a loose piece of blonde hair behind her ear. “Off doing whatever he does on Saturday nights.”

“You don’t know what he does?”

She waved off my concern. “Some club or another. Histo-rians Unite, or some such.”

Ohh-kay. I looked to Maria. “Where’s Nate?”

“Boys’ weekend. They’re fishing,” she said with a grossed-out look. No wonder she hadn’t been asked along. “Took the dog with him, thank God.”

Gracie, a Chihuahua, was as high maintenance as my sister.

Bobby leaned down, his breath warm against my ear. Oh yeah. Now I remembered why we were in a rush to get here.

“We could go to my place.”

My mother’s eyes lit. “His place!” She turned to Maria.

“Did you hear that? His place!”

I closed my eyes, wishing I had relocated a long time ago.

“It’s about time,” Maria said to me. “Maybe you’ll stop being so testy.”

I stepped forward, fists clenched. “I’ll show you testy.”

90

Heather Webber

Bobby grabbed my arm.

“Snappy too,” Maria added.

I heard Bobby sigh. I knew the feeling. I turned to face him. “I think I maybe need to stay here tonight.”

He smiled. God, I loved his smile. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” my mother said. “Go with him. Go! Go!”

What did it say about my life that my mother was prodding me to go home with a man?