Gypsy Love: A Gypsy Beach Novel (17 page)

By one, Arley was restless. She’d tried to write, but the constant noise of traffic was distracting. She didn’t know how to get anywhere in Atlanta, so finding a coffee shop to write in wasn’t a good option, especially since she would have to travel on foot.

With a shrug, she separated the clothes in her suitcase into piles for the laundry and started a load of her underwear and nightgowns. The nightgowns hadn’t gotten a lot of use since John preferred for her to sleep naked, but she washed them for good measure.

After that, she wandered around the apartment, read a little, and debated texting John to see what he was up to. She hated being bored. It made her cranky.

She headed into the kitchen. Maybe she could bake a cake or find the ingredients for something for them to eat for dinner. Cooking always soothed her and usually helped her work out a plot if she got stuck somewhere.

She’d located a decent selection of olive oils, flour, and eggs. John must like to cook. He had most everything for a decent meal except any fresh fruits or vegetables, probably due to the fact that he’d been at the beach. The kitchen was well stocked. She wished she knew how to get to a local market, but a partial meal began to take shape in her mind.

When the washing machine finished the first load, she moved the panties and nightgowns to the dryer and hung the bras over the guest bathroom shower rod. Recalling John’s teasing request that she be naked when he returned home, she pulled off the yoga pants and shirt she’d put on when he left for work. She added it to the load of darks and started the machine.

Hoping John wouldn’t mind and would think it was sexy, she slipped on one of his v-neck undershirts that she located in his dresser drawers. It flirted with the curves of her ass and showed off her cleavage. With a grin she returned to the kitchen. He’d said he’d be home early, so she decided to try her hand at a rendition of the pie they’d had at Montgomery’s. She crushed a sleeve of Saltines into a cup of flour, added butter, and began to work the dough for the crust while she considered the next scenes for her novel. When she moved on to the filling, she quickly grabbed a notepad and jotted down a few ideas before she returned to her work.

As she slipped the pie into the oven, she heard the key turn in the lock. Fluffing her hair quickly and pinching her cheeks to give them some color, she sported what she hoped was a sexy grin, but a moment later, she gasped as John’s mother, loaded down with groceries, made her way into the condo.

She tried to formulate words while tugging the t-shirt lower down her body, but her mind offered her nothing but drivel. John’s mother looked equally as stunned. The two bags of groceries slipped from her hands onto the large dining table. She glanced into the living room and then back to Arley.

“Uh, I’m … uh, sorry … ma’am.” Arley managed something resembling a full thought.

“Well, the beloved game ball is here, along with more books than the Buckhead branch of the library, so I’m in the right condo.” John’s mother managed a far more intelligent statement. “I’m Mary Ann Rowan; and you are?”

“Arley.” She managed to knot the loosened ends of John’s t-shirt in her fist and plant it firmly on the side against her hip to keep it from revealing anything his mother certainly didn’t want to see. “I’m Arley Copeland, ma’am. John went to work for a little while. He’ll be back soon. I think. I’m really sorry. I didn’t know you’d be coming by.”

Mary Ann chuckled. “Well, John has never let anyone stay here, so you must be a pretty special girl, Arley. It’s very nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, thank you.” Arley still couldn’t seem to order her heart to stop pounding in her throat or her breaths to regulate. “Uh, Ms. Rowan, ma’am, I swear I would go put on something else, but I just put all of my clothes in the washing machine. They’re all wet.”

When Mary Ann Rowan grinned, her blue eyes sparkled just like John’s.

“Let me go see if there’s anything else I can put on. I can just wear my robe or something.” She raced back into John’s bedroom and whimpered audibly. “This is so not the way I wanted to meet his mother.” She huffed.
John and his mom are really close and …
“Oh, dear Lord. I don’t even have panties on!”
She probably thinks I’m a complete hussy. Just wait ‘til she finds out what I do for a living.
Arley debated crawling in John’s bed and giving into the tears that were threatening to overtake her, but Mary Ann Rowan was standing in John’s condo, waiting on her to figure out how to cover herself. She pulled open drawers haphazardly.
Boxers!
She shook her head. Wearing her son’s boxers would definitely not make any mother happy, and John mostly wore boxer-briefs. That certainly wouldn’t work.

The next drawer contained John’s t-shirts. She picked out a longer UGA shirt that would at least cover her ample ass. Another drawer down she located sweatpants and basketball shorts. John was much taller than she was. Sweatpants weren’t going to work. With a silent prayer that her large derrière would fit in his basketball shorts, she slid them on and willed the dryer to be finished drying her panties faster. She cinched the waistband string on the shorts, swallowed down a choking amount of horrifying embarrassment, and forced herself to go back into the living room.

Mary Ann was in John’s kitchen putting away groceries. She offered Arley a very sweet grin when she reappeared. “Please don’t be embarrassed, Arley. If I know my son, and I’m pretty sure I do, he would have deeply appreciated coming home to you just like that. If you make him smile, that’s all that matters to me.”

Certain that her face was never going to return to its typical pale state, Arley squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s not exactly how I envisioned meeting you. He loves you so much. I really wanted to make a good impression.”

Arley rubbed her hands over her face and reopened her eyes to discover that Mary Ann’s grin had widened further. “You made a perfect first impression, sweetheart. I am not upset in the least. In fact, since John’s not home yet and traffic is always a disaster, how about if I teach you to make one of his favorite meals?”

“Really?”

“There are three ways to access my son’s heart, Arley. It looks like you have the first one covered, and since you’re here I’d say you’ve been giving him a run for his money in the brains department.” She winked at Arley, who couldn’t help but laugh. “But it will have to be reached all three ways. Truthfully, he’s tried to forget that he has a heart lately. I have a very good feeling about you. My feelings are never wrong, and the other way to his heart is through his stomach. So, let’s get busy.”

“Thank you. You’re so sweet.”

Mary Ann shook her head. “I love my little boy more than life itself, but I’ve been worried about him lately. He called me this morning on his way to work to tell me he’d come back from Ryan’s. He didn’t know I was coming over, or I’m sure he would have told you. I did try to raise him right. Anyway, I haven’t heard John sound that happy in over a year. I thought it must’ve been the beach or seeing Ryan. He really misses him, but now I know it was you. Therefore, you inadvertently made my entire week. Now, let’s get cooking, and I’ll try to get out of here before he gets home.”

“Oh, Ms. Rowan, no. You should at least stay and eat.”

“We’ll see. I did have two papers for English Lit I wanted John to proofread for class tomorrow, but I’d trade a lower grade to see my son smile again in a heartbeat.”

Arley swooned. Unable to help herself, she threw her arms around Ms. Rowan and hugged her tightly. John’s mother embraced her readily. Arley’s entire body drank in the hug. It was how a mother’s hug was supposed to feel; warm, accepting, kind, and loving. Arley’s own mother had never hugged her like that. His mother seemed perfectly willing to extend the embrace as long as Arley needed her. The last hug she’d received that managed to soften the entire world around her had been just before her father had died.

When she finally forced herself to pull away, Mary Ann cradled her face in her capable hands and gazed at her like she might just love her, too.

“I still want you to eat with us, but I could proofread your papers for you, Ms. Rowan. I’m a writer. I’m pretty good with words and grammar and everything. I’d be happy to go over them.”

“Copeland. You’re not …?”

“Dylan Copeland’s daughter.” Arley nodded.

“Oh, my goodness. How did you and John meet?”

Arley dove into the tale of she and John showing up at the Inn. She added in a little bit about what had driven her to the tiny, hidden away beach on the North Carolina shore. When she finished, Mary Ann’s excitement was palpable. Arley couldn’t help but grin.

“You both just happened to show up at the Inn on the same day at almost the same moment?”

Arley nodded.

“Did he tell you about
The Man from Wellington
?

“Uh, you mean when he read it to you while you were recovering from your surgery?” John hadn’t told his mother about the car wreck.

“No, not that.”

A slight sense of panic worked through Arley. She didn’t want to betray John’s confidence, but his mother clearly knew something.

“Um, hmm. He did tell you, and he told you that I didn’t know about that car wreck.”

“Wow, you’re good.” Arley grimaced.

Mary Ann sighed. “That would have been my end. I’ve lived through a lot of stuff, but I couldn’t have survived that. So, we were going to make chicken and dumplings, which John loves, but now we’re going all out. Do you know how to fry chicken, sweetheart?”

“Yes ma’am, but there wasn’t any buttermilk.”

“A girl after my own heart. I brought buttermilk and everything else we’ll need. If you really don’t mind looking over those papers, I’ll prep everything, and then you’re going to cook it. I’ll be working on the papers when John gets home.” She shared a conspiratorial wink with Arley.

They both set to work. Arley went through Mary Ann’s papers several times, noted the grammar mistakes, and made a few suggestions. She showed her how to use the editing feature in Word on the laptop John had gotten for his mom when she’d started school.

John’s mother showed Arley how to make the batter for the chicken, helped her slice the green tomatoes, and peel the potatoes. She prepared sweet tea just the way John preferred, prepped everything for the slaw, and then began her instructions. “Never buy green tomatoes from the store. They have no flavor, and fried green tomatoes are his favorite. Always go to a roadside stand, and the trick of it is to dry them thoroughly, then salt them, then dry them again before you batter them. If they’re wet, the batter will come off in the oil and you’ll just have an oily, saggy tomato.”

Thrilled to be learning and to be cooking, Arley tried to absorb every piece of advice Mary Ann offered her. She methodically mixed the cornbread batter and poured it into the heated iron skillet.

“John likes to pretend that my mashed potatoes are somehow a healthy vegetable. I generally don’t mention the sheer amount of cream cheese I put in them and then the amount of cheddar I top them with.” She rolled her eyes as Arley laughed.

“Oh, and don’t ask him about his middle name.” This piece of advice seemed to disturb Mary Ann.

“You named him after his dad.” Realization set harshly in Arley’s gut. His mother nodded.

“I promise. I won’t ask him.”

They continued to work and chat for the next hour.

Arley’s cell phone chirped and both of the ladies grinned gleefully. “He says he’ll be here in ten minutes.” Another fevered blush took up residence in her cheeks as she read the requests he’d added at the end.

Mary Ann continued to laugh. “I’m certain I do not want to know what else he said in that text, but you keep cooking. I’m going to work on the papers.” She settled at the dining room table and managed to look like she’d been there working all along. Arley eased the frying tomatoes from the oil and drained them on the paper towels, just like John’s mother had instructed her.

She was turning the chicken breasts in another skillet when John stepped into the foyer. “I’m home. Get naked for me, baby girl!” he called as he closed the front door. Arley bit her lips together to keep from guffawing. He tossed his briefcase down and noticed their guest. “Mom!” His eyes rounded and his mouth hung open in shock.

“Hi, sweetheart. I came by to bring you some groceries, and Arley offered to help me with my English Lit papers.” Her entire body shook with her silent laughter. She raised her eyebrows in mocked challenge waiting on John to try and cover his gaffe.

Arley dissolved into a puddle of silent, hysterical giggles in the kitchen.

“Uh … okay. Well, hey, Mama.” He leaned down to hug his mother while Arley offered him a mischievous grin. “Let’s maybe just pretend you didn’t hear me say that.” His voice took on a pleading edge.

“Say what?” Ms. Rowan winked at John.

He made his way into the kitchen and drew Arley into his arms. “Might’ve texted me and told me she was here,” he whispered in her ear as he helped himself to squeezing a handful of her ass.

“I could have, but then you wouldn’t have said that,” she explained with a vexing glint in her eyes.

Shaking his head at her, he popped her backside rather hard.

“And maybe save all of that for when I go home,” his mother called from the table.