Piper peeked around him and grinned. “Are we interrupting?”
“No!” Bronte nearly took out my eardrums with her response. “We were just… talking… shop.”
I choked on a laugh. “Yeah, shop. You know, code word for—”
She smacked me hard enough for two of my abs to slam against my ribs and back again.
“So…” Bronte shoved me away, while I tried not to feel a bit defeated that all it had taken was her son, my friggin’ protégé, to change the entire tone of the night. “…are you guys hungry?”
I wanted to grab the lasagna, bark “mine,” and then sneeze on it, so they didn’t stay.
Instead, I waited to see what Braden would do.
His eyes narrowed as he ran his hands through his dark red hair. “I’m watching you.”
“This is me terrified,” I said in a bored tone then added a yawn for good effect.
Piper snickered behind him and eyed Bronte then me. “So how did this little… situation happen?”
“God,” I snapped. “Ordained by God.”
Bronte shot me a stern look that made me feel more excited than threatened and moved our plates to the larger table, adding two more for our unwelcome guests.
When we sat down, I opened my mouth to say, “Shall we bless the meal?”
But I was beat when Piper and Bronte started going on and on about Pinterest.
I eyed my fork at about the same time Braden eyed his knife. Our minds were one as we both, no doubt, wondered how much physical pain would take us away from the conversation about boards, pins, and — gasp — DIY.
“You better not be hitting on my mom,” Braden said under his breath and unnoticed by the girls since they were in their own little world.
I took a huge bite of lasagna and chewed, then grinned. “I would never strike a woman.”
He gritted his teeth. “Drew, I’m serious! She’s my mom, and she’s… sensitive.”
I scowled. “So, what does that make me?”
“A damn caveman!” he hissed.
“Braden!” Bronte smacked him on the back of the head. “Language!” She turned back to Piper and kept talking.
I snickered behind my wineglass. “That’s another dollar for the swear jar… son.”
“I’m killing you…” His eyes narrowed. “…if you touch her.”
I took another big bite. “Define… touch.” Damn, this lasagna is good. “Do you mean like this…” I reached over and trailed a fingertip down her arm.
Goosebumps erupted before she pulled her arm away and set it in her lap. Bummer.
Braden smiled as if he’d just won the war.
He had no clue I would fight until the bitter end.
I was Italian, after all.
And that was my lasagna, damn it!
“Anyway, Braden’s convinced we shouldn’t go, but I think it would be really fun, and we’re going to be going on tour again soon, so…”
“I think it’s a great idea.” Bronte smiled over at us.
Braden and I exchanged panicked what did we miss looks.
“Don’t you, Braden?” prodded Bronte.
“Err…” His eyes widened at me, searching, begging for help.
I grinned and drank another gulp of wine instead.
Not today, son, not today.
“Yes?” His uncertainty colored his response more like a question.
“Thank you!” Piper jumped to her feet and ran around the table to kiss him.
Hell, maybe he did answer right.
“I know you hate road trips, but I’ve really been wanting to go down the Oregon coast, and it’s so nice this week! Plus, we aren’t going to get to do a honeymoon since we’ll be on tour.”
He kissed her back and sighed. “Fine, but we aren’t renting one of those homes on wheels.”
“Motorhome, sport, motorhome,” I piped in.
“Call me sport one more time,” Braden snapped.
I was about to when Bronte kicked my chair. “What?” I mouthed.
“You sure you’re okay, Mom?” Braden looked sad and then determined. “I mean, it’s the week of your anniversary and your birthday. I’ve always done something special for you, so you remember who the man of the house is. And I know on top of all that you’re dealing with Amelia’s upcoming appointment.”
His eyes locked on mine in warning before he looked back at her.
Guilt slammed me in the chest. Message received. Don’t mess with her if you aren’t going to stay.
It wasn’t like I had a stellar reputation with women, according to anyone in the world, but how was it my fault they liked to show up naked and uninvited on my tour bus?
“Braden…” Bronte stood then bent over and kissed his head. “…I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Plus, I’m in a gorgeous house, and my kids are in the same place. I’m good.”
“I don’t like it,” he grumbled.
“You guys need to do some sort of honeymoon, and the weather’s perfect. Just go with Piper and stop worrying about your old mom.”
Piper laughed. “Oh my gosh, Bronte, you’re not old! You could be my sister!”
That was true.
She was so stunning my eyes hurt. God, I suddenly wanted to be the lasagna.
Imagine how many times her hands had touched the noodles.
Wait, just kidding.
Noodles are not sexy.
And they’re limp.
Nope, no noodles.
I was a nail.
A hard as hell nail.
And she was the hammer and—
“Drew?” Piper waved in front of my face. “You in or what?”
Ah shit. I had no clue what they were talking about, but Braden looked ready to murder me, so I assumed he didn’t want me in anything. “Sure, why not?”
“Great!” Piper clapped her hands. “It’s the best plan anyway! We all know Drew doesn’t have a house here and hates the hotels and refuses to stay with anyone because he hates charity. He can stay in the guesthouse make sure your mom takes care of herself. He can keep working on the album without having to go back to LA on Friday.” She smiled at Braden. “Then you won’t feel guilty about her being alone with Amelia—” then focused that smile on me “—and you won’t feel guilty about missing all that studio time, right?”
I grinned. “Piper, have I ever told you how much I adore you as a human being
