Miss Congeniality (28 page)

“We love to meet Lance’s friends.”

“Oh, you do?” She glanced back at Lance, who was gathering up their bags, with a raised eyebrow. “Have you met a lot of his friends?”

“Oh, plenty.” Margaret bit her lip to keep the smile from her face. “He’s always bring home different people.”

“Mom,” Lance said seriously.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She waved the towel in the air. “I forgot you told me I wasn’t supposed to say anything.” Brea pursed her lips, watching the exchange with curious blue eyes.

“You never change, do you, MI?” Lance hugged his mother, lifting her slightly. He kissed her cheek, grinning widely. He turned with his arm around her shoulder to face Brea. “I see you’ve met my mother, who I affectionately named MI, meaning maximum impact.” He looked at his mother lovingly. “She tends to say whatever she can to get the biggest reaction out of people. And she’s lying; I haven’t brought any women here since I left.”

“What about that Rhonda woman?”

“She’s my agent, Mom; I pay her to work for me. It would probably get awkward if I started sleeping with her.”

“Or she would be your prostitute.”

“See what I mean?” he stated.

“I still want to know about the women you brought before you left home.” His mother hooted.

“You finally got a smart one.”

“Why, thank you,” Brea said. “I keep trying to tell him, but he doesn’t believe me.”

“Oh, he’s just like his daddy in that regard.” His mom opened the door, ushering Brea in. Brea looked to see what Lance thought of what his mother said, and he was just shaking his head in the way men have done for years when they know they’re outnumbered.

“Really? Do tell.” She followed her into the kitchen where his mother was clearly making a spread. “Oh, this looks fabulous.”

Margaret brightened at the compliment. “Thank you, darling. I’ve been baking all day. Lance said I didn’t need to, and I know how you actresses are with your diet, but I couldn’t help it. I hope you don’t think my cookies will make you fat.”

“I would love to get fat on your cookies,” Brea answered honestly.

“Why does that sound dirty?” Margaret asked, holding out a plate of snicker doodles. Brea laughed; she could tell she was going to love his mother.

“Because you have a dirty mind, old lady.” He grabbed a cookie, taking a big bite, moaning in appreciation. “Mom, these are great.”

“Of course, they are; I made them, didn’t I? Now, if your sister had made them it would be a different story.” Lance’s lips curved, thinking of his culinary-challenged sister.

“Lauren still not cooking?”

“Lord no, but she’s trying hard. They’ll be here tomorrow, but she said the kids had something at daycare tonight. A summer fling or some old thing.”

“Sounds good,” he said. “Dad around?”

“He’s in the south pasture; some fence needed mending. You can go see him if you want to.”

“I think I may do that.” He ignored the panicked look overtaking Brea’s face.
Serves her right
, he thought. Abandoning her to his mother while he went to talk to his dad would be the ultimate payback.

“Go ahead, honey. Brea and I’ll just stay here and visit.”

“With pleasure. Walk me out?” Brea practically leaped out of her chair at his question.

“I’ll be right back,” she mumbled to his mother. She was busy mixing something in a bowl, her reply of ‘take your time’ the only indication she heard Brea.

“I’m going to kill you,” Brea hissed when they got outside.

“Give me a kiss.” He tried to grab her, but she stepped out of his reach.

“Why would I kiss a traitor?”

“Because I love you. And I promise to give you an orgasm tonight.” He nuzzled her neck, kissing behind her ear before he captured her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

“In your parents’ house? You bad boy.”

“Oh, baby, you have no idea.” He kissed her again, squeezing her ass before he let her go.

“Bye, babe.” He slapped her ass as she walked away.

“Stop slapping her ass, Lance; she’s not in trouble!” Lance cringed and blushed furiously, not realizing his mother was standing there. He hoped she hadn’t heard him talking about having sex with Brea in her house.

“Honey, you really shouldn’t let him treat you like that. It lets him think he’s in charge,” he could hear her telling Brea.

“She knows I’m in charge!” he yelled at his mother, unable to resist.

“The hell you are!” Brea yelled back. She turned to his mother. “You gotta help me out here; he’s always getting the upper hand.”

“Oh, honey, you came to the right place. I’ve been dealing with Holder men most of my life, and his daddy is worse than he is.”

“I can’t imagine.” Brea was horrified by the prospect there was someone pushier than Lance.

“You have no idea. Come on, I’m going to have that boy eating out of your hand.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Brea perked up. Maybe bonding with his mother would be a good thing.

Thirty minutes and one bottle of wine later, Brea and Margaret were pleasantly buzzed and cackling like loons.

“Tell me more!” Brea slapped her hand on the table, craving more stories about Lance’s childhood. Margaret had been trying to tell all the embarrassing stories she could while the men were away and couldn’t stop her.

“Well, since you twisted my leg,” she said with a wink before she drank her wine. “There was this one time, Lance was about two months shy of his second birthday, and I had made a big bowl of peach preserves. You know how to make peach preserves?”

Brea shook her head, fascinated by this modern pioneer woman. She didn’t even know people still made peach preserves. Silvia never did, so anyone who did any type of canning had her upmost respect.

“Oh, you poor dear. You’ll have to come back when peaches are in season and I’ll teach you how to make them.”

“Deal.” Brea grinned goofily, pleased his mother talked as though it was a foregone conclusion they would still be together in a couple of months.

“Oh, I love new blood.” She rubbed her hands together gleefully, and Brea saw where Lance got his tenacity. She liked his mother, but frankly, the woman was a bit scary. Margaret pursed her lips. “Now, what was I telling you?”

“Lance and peach preserves.”

“Oh, right, I forgot. So I had prepared this batch, cut all the peaches, and mixed it with sugar. I let it gel overnight, so the mixture really sets. Well, this one batch I had made like normal and set it on the table. That night, I heard these noises coming from the kitchen and I woke up Gerald because I knew someone was breaking in.”

Brea’s eyes widened. “What was it?”

“Not what? Who. We came in the kitchen and that boy of mine had climbed up onto the table and was scooping up the peaches by the handful.” She mimicked the gesture Lance must have made, smashing both hands to her face as a young child would do. Brea laughed, picturing Lance as a baby greedily eating peaches drenched in sugar.

“What did you do?”

“Well, after I stopped freaking out that my child ate peaches and sugar, I got him cleaned up and back to bed. I was so damn mad, but I got my revenge because that boy had diarrhea for days.” Brea lost it, laughing so hard she started hyperventilating.
Served him right
, she thought.
Mr. I’m Better Than You was foiled by a bunch of peaches.

“I would have loved to have seen that!”

“Which part? The actual eating peaches or the aftereffects? The eating peaches were funny after I calmed down, but nobody and I do mean nobody, needed to see what came after.” She shuddered when she thought about those two days.

“Do you have any more embarrassing stories?”

“No,” Lance answered forcefully from behind them. They jumped back, so engrossed in their conversation they failed to notice Lance and Gerald had come to the back porch. She could see where Lance got his looks because Gerald was still handsome after all these years. Lance opened the screen door, coming in and eyeing his mom suspiciously. “And what embarrassing stories have you been telling her, Mom?”

“Nothing.” She got up to look in her cabinets, as though she had been doing that all along. “Just trying to figure out if I needed to make anything else for dinner.”

“Uh-huh.” He picked up the wine bottle on the table, tipping it to the side and noticing it was empty. “Have you guys been drinking?”

“Maybe.” Brea took a drink of wine, belying her statement.

“Your mother is turning into a lush,” Gerald said, tickling her waist and holding tight while she tried to squirm away. Margaret swatted at him but let him pull her in for a deep kiss which bespoke years of love. Brea watched enviously, craving a relationship such as theirs, trying to picture it with Lance. He was staring at her, his expression unreadable. He took her hand, kissing her palm softly. Brea wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor; she was so in love with this man she couldn’t see straight.

She knew he loved her, and he told her often enough, but did they have the makings of an abiding love such as his parents had? Would he be willing to stand with her through everything, the good and bad, to really make their relationship work? She didn’t know. He was an amazing man, but she couldn’t stop the doubts from creeping into her mind. They had only been together for a couple months, but his reputation had been earned honestly, and part of that reputation included his string of failed relationships. Was she destined to be just one in a long line of heartbreaks? She knew he treated her differently; everyone said as much, including his mother, who swore he’d never brought a girl home to meet them, but what happened when the newness wore off?

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Lance noticed she had gone quiet.

“Nothing,” she lied, drinking the last of her wine, hoping he bought her story. She should have considered the source. He would never buy her lies, and always seemed to know how to get information out of her, even if she wasn’t willing to give it.

“We’ll be right back, Mom,” he said, not even looking at his parents when he led her away from the table. She followed, partially because she wanted to be alone with him, but mainly because she didn’t want to cause a scene in his parents’ house. He took her to the front porch and sat down with her on the swing, kicking his feet on the ground to get it to move.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” She didn’t go anywhere, so she really didn’t understand his question.

“In the kitchen. It was like you were with me, and then you were gone, so far inside your head I had to call your name a couple times before you acknowledged me.” He laced his fingers with hers, and Brea was grateful for the contact, no matter how small.

“Nowhere.” She tried to brush him off, not really wanting to get into it at his parents’ house. “Seeing your parents together just made me miss Derrick and Silvia, and the way they are when they’re together.”

“Are you really going to try to lie to me, babe?”

“I’m not trying to lie,” she answered defensively. “I really do miss Derrick and Silvia, and seeing your parents brought all that out.”
And I am scared you will leave me because you don’t feel as strongly for me as they do for each other
, she added silently. He cut her a glance, trying to figure out if she was lying. Brea smiled softly, laying her head on his shoulder, not wanting to talk anymore. He kissed her forehead and thankfully let it go, but Brea figured he was just biding his time until he could confront her again. Lance was about as tenacious as a junkyard dog when he wanted something, including answers.

“How did you like hanging out with my mom?” he asked hesitantly.

“Are you nervous?” Lance hardly ever hesitated. About anything. He saw what he wanted and he just went after it, something she envied.

“No, I just wanted to make sure you liked her.” And that didn’t sound weird to her at all. But feeling generous since he did let her half-assed answer go earlier, she just decided to let it slide.

“I loved her. She’s so great I may decide to leave you for her.” He reached over and squeezed her thigh just a tad shy of painful, enough to make her get a little wet.

“You can’t leave me for my mom.”

“Why not?”

He cupped his penis through his pants crudely. “She doesn’t have the right equipment.”

She moved his hand away from his dick, caressing it so she felt the beginning of an erection. “You know that’s why they have sex toy shops.” He brushed her hand away to stop the growing erection; he didn’t want to be uncomfortable during dinner, which was sure to be ready soon.

“It’s not the same as me.”

“I know.” She sighed, putting her arm around his waist as the swing rocked back and forth. They sat there in the quiet, comfortable just being. “This is nice,” she said softly. He agreed, kissing her head, rocking with her until his mother called them for dinner.

Brea was happy to discover Lance’s father was very similar to him. Also, she was pleased to see how he supported his wife, even when she was making crazy statements for shock value, something Brea found Margaret loved to do. He was polite, asking questions about her family and her brother with kind, brown eyes. She answered them honestly, no longer ashamed of where she came from. Her history was something which helped shape her into the woman she was today and gave her the fortitude to make it in a business known for crushing dreams. Brea asked questions herself, curious about working on a farm, and surprised Lance never mentioned he wanted to own a ranch one day. She could see him; he was built for it, almost as much as he was built to be on the big screen, and although she shouldn’t, Brea foolishly wished they could share his dream together.