“I’m fine,” he was saying on the phone. “No, I’m at home.” He paused, listening — she could hear the faint sound of a voice talking on the other end of the line. “Yes, I did have to, Mom! … No, I couldn’t. I know you love Uncle Tommy, but he was being a tool.”
Nell smiled to herself, trying to imagine the other side of the conversation. Eamonn sounded affectionate, even if slightly exasperated. Evidently, his mother had heard something about the events of the previous day from her brother. Tommy. A complex jumble of feelings bubbled up inside Nell at the reminder of her lost job and the string of decisions and events that had led to it.
“Yeah, she’s here,” Eamonn said. Me? That got Nell’s full attention. “Oh, you don’t need to do that— … No, really, Mom, don’t come over.” She flipped over to stare at him in horror, hoping he was kidding or something. “Mom! She doesn’t even drink coffee!” he said into the phone, but she could see the laughter dancing in his eyes and knew he’d already lost the argument. “Sure, but see if they have coconut milk. I don’t know if she can’t drink dairy or just likes coconut milk better, but—” His mother evidently interrupted him, saying something that made him smile and redden a bit. “Whatever,” he muttered, and then, “I love you too, Mom.”
He ended the call and put his phone down, grinning rather ruefully at Nell.
His mother was coming over, apparently. This shouldn’t be happening, she wanted to tell him. I agreed to a night of amazing sex, and I got it, but I have no desire to meet your mother. It was bad enough that she knew his uncle. Couldn’t you have just told her no? Still, there was something sweet about the way he’d spoken on the phone, something about his face as he told his mom he loved her — she couldn’t be angry at him for that. “Coconut milk tastes better in tea,” she said, because she couldn’t find words for anything else, torn between an impulse to escape before his mother arrived and a ridiculously sentimental pleasure that he kept her minor preferences in mind.
He nodded, as though he’d heard what she hadn’t said. “My mother doesn’t hear no very well. It’s a groupie thing. The serious ones do whatever it takes to get where they want to be.”
“Okay, well, I don’t think I need to meet her.” Nell whipped out of the bed and gathered up her clothes, bolting into the bathroom to get dressed. Only after she’d locked the door and stepped into her underpants did she realize that she hadn’t managed to pick up her bra with the rest of her things. Crap. She cracked the door open. “Eamonn? Could you possibly pass me—”
“This?” Standing in the middle of the bedroom, still completely and beautifully bare, he held up her black sports bra, twitching it lazily back and forth. “You don’t need it. Go without.”
Her hand slipped off the doorknob, letting the door swing open. “You’ve got to be kidding. Please? I need to get dressed and get out of here.”
“Just put your shirt on.” He gave her a panty-melting smile, one that said last night wasn’t enough and he’d like to have her up against the wall right this minute. “Go braless.”
Nell shook her head, refusing to be swayed. “All I have is my work blouse — thin flipping rayon. I am not walking around with my headlights on to give you a thrill.”
Eamonn laughed. “I could lend you a t-shirt?”
She took a step toward him. “Don’t make me come and get my bra.”
“That could be fun—” he began, then broke off at the dirty look she gave him. “Whoa, okay. It’s all yours.” He tossed it to her, and she caught it without breaking eye contact.
“You should have to do pushups for giving me that kind of sass,” she muttered. “And put some underwear on, already.”
He cocked one eyebrow at her, but took a clean pair of boxer briefs from a drawer and put them on. “I’ll do pushups for you,” he said with a grin. “Or we could do them together. Morning workout?”
So tempting, but… “No time. I need to be gone already.” She finished buttoning her blouse and looked around for her socks.
“Running away?” he asked, his back to her as he rummaged through a dresser drawer, choosing a t-shirt.
She froze. “No.” Yes.
“Stay for breakfast. Mom’s bringing doughnuts.” His voice was slightly muffled as he pulled the t-shirt over his head.
“Seriously?” Doughnuts aren’t breakfast. I don’t want to meet your mother. It’s not about running away.
“I never joke about doughnuts.” He turned to face her; she read the words emblazoned across his chest and burst out laughing.
“Eye candy?”
“What can I say? This shirt is awesome.” He smoothed it over his torso, giving a flirty and deliberate impression of self-pleasure.
But she wouldn’t be distracted. “I don’t like being railroaded into having breakfast with anyone, especially…” Your mother, when I’ve just had spectacular sex with you all night. Who’s also Tommy Baxter’s sister, when he fired me yesterday, and I’m still all kinds of bitter about it.
Eamonn nodded. “I can see that. This… wasn’t planned. I guess Uncle Tommy got in Mom’s ear about something, and now she wants to meet you. I’ll call you a car if you want to be gone when she gets here, but — Nella-bella, I’m not ready for you to leave.” He picked up his phone from the bedside table and looked at her, eyebrows raised, waiting.
She couldn’t tell him to make the call. Somehow, by giving her the choice instead of resisting and insisting, he’d made it impossible for her to go. “I don’t run away,” she said — it had nothing to do with him wanting more of her company or the warm feeling his admission had given her.
“Speaking of mothers,”
