Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (67 page)

“You know, you can stare at that thing as long as you want, it’s not going to make him materialize on your desk,” says Geoffrey, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I can dream, can’t I?” I tease, turning to look at him as he props himself up against the desk beside me.

“Seriously, though—are you feeling any better about tomorrow?”

I spent most of Tuesday night
gushing
to Geoff about how much Judah spoiled me over the weekend; but I didn’t neglect to inform him that we had also made plans to go down to meet his mom and stepdad. After hearing the news that Harper and Ben will be joining us, I was relieved, to say the least—but I’m still a nervous wreck.

“I know I’ve met, like, half of his family already, but meeting his mom feels different.
Way
different. What if she doesn’t like me?”

“Everybody likes you.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head at him. “Everybody
does not
like me. Besides, she’s not
everybody
and I’m the first woman he’s ever felt the desire to introduce to the woman. I’m sure she’s got these great expectations. I’m just afraid I’ll fall short. I’m not nearly as established as he is, which he doesn’t seem to mind, but what if she does?”

“Baby girl, I wish you saw in you what the rest of us do.” He reaches toward me, running the back of his fingers down my cheek. “You’re a catch. She’ll see.”

“I hope so.”

“Teddy?” Both Geoff and I turn at the sound of Andy’s voice as he calls from the mouth of the hallway across the room. “Could I get your help with something?” He turns and heads back to his office before I can respond, and I chuckle as I stand to my feet.

“Three more weeks,” I sigh. “Three more weeks and the exhibition will be a grand success we can put behind us, and we’ll have our old Andy back.”

“And we’ll all rejoice,” Geoff replies with a smirk. “Hey,” he stops me, grabbing my hand before I can get too far. “I meant what I said. You’re a catch, and don’t you dare forget it. You’ll be fine. Just be yourself, okay?”

“I hear you,” I say softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Love you, Freckles,” he calls out as I make my way to Andy.

I look over my shoulder and offer him a wink. “Love you, too, babe.”

Saturday morning, when I wake up in bed alone, I’m quick to make myself at least somewhat presentable before I go hunting for my man. I grab the polo shirt he left on the floor last night and pull it over my head on my way to the bathroom, where I brush my teeth and pull my hair back into a high ponytail. Without further ado, I head to look for him in his office, first.

When I spot him behind his desk, concentration etched on his brow, his dark hair disheveled from sleep, his face still covered in that unbelievably sexy scruff, I can’t help but stop and stare. He’s gorgeous. When I showed up last night and he opened the door, I almost jumped him after I saw he still hadn’t shaved. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world, being able to call him mine.

He’s working in just a pair of gym shorts, and my hands are itching to touch him—but I can’t make my feet move. My eyes are too busy devouring every inch of him.

“Teddy,” he mutters, his attention still locked on the screen in front of him. “Are you going to come in?”

His voice pulls me from my trance and I make my way across the room and behind his desk.

“You look busy. Are you?”

“Yes.” He shifts his focus up at me and then reaches out to wrap his arm around my waist, guiding me down onto his lap. He kisses me, biting my lip before he pulls away, returning his gaze to the computer.

As he gets back to work, his hand slides down my hip and onto my bare thigh, where he absentmindedly traces his thumb back and forth over my garter tattoo. His touch sends tingles down my spine. It’s not
just
the feel of his skin grazing mine that excites me—it’s
where
he touches me; as if he’s memorized my body and he knows where my ink is without even having to look. There are no words to express what I feel, and no action I can offer in response, but I can’t do
nothing
. So, I reach up and hold the opposite side of his face before kissing his cheek. I love the feel of his facial hair against my lips, so I kiss him one more time before I let him go.

“What are you working on?” I ask softly, feeling like an intruder in his workspace—afraid if I speak too loudly, I’ll get kicked out.

“Remodel in downtown Loveland. It’s a pub. It’s been around for a while. They’re looking to modernize it, but also keep that classic feel.”

I look at the screen and I see that he’s creating a digital representation of his design. If I had to use one word to describe it, it would be
handsome
.

“I love it,” I whisper.

“Yeah?” he asks, his thumb still rubbing my thigh as his other hand controls the computer mouse. “What do you love about it?”

I think for a moment, nervous to go into detail, knowing I’m speaking with the brilliant mastermind of the room I’m looking at without any knowledge of the appropriate
lingo
; but when I start talking, pointing out the things I like the most, I know he’s listening by the way he responds to me—explaining his ideas, and filling in the gaps of what has yet to be put into the design. Soon, I don’t feel like an intruder, more like his side-kick with all his insider secrets.

“I’m just going to be a few more minutes,” he says, speaking directly in my ear before nibbling on my lobe. The feel of his tongue on my skin makes me wet, and I wiggle a little in his lap. “Shower and then coffee? Or coffee and then shower?”

I open my mouth to answer just as he begins to pepper kisses along my neck.

“Um,” I sigh, tilting my head to grant him full access to what he wants.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

The vibration of his voice against my skin increases my desire and decreases my lung capacity.

“Shower,” I manage to squeak out.

He chuckles and then grazes his teeth over my jaw.

“Five minutes.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.” Reaching under the hem of his shirt, he pinches my ass, making me squeal and jump to my feet. He grins at me and holds up his hand, showing all five fingers. “I’ll meet you in there.”

Teddy and I take our time in the shower before sitting down to a late breakfast. We spend a few hours in my office during the afternoon—me at my desk, working on the design I showed her earlier; her on the couch, editing some of the pictures she took last weekend. When I’m in need of a break, I join her, and she shows me the collection of photos from our hike. Outside of the couple shots she has around her apartment, mostly of friends and family, I’ve not seen her work. I knew photography was something she was passionate about, but her raw talent astounds me. After I see all that she’s done, I insist we pay to get a couple blown up and framed. True to form, my shy girl balks at the idea, but I won’t take no for an answer. These images deserve to be more than memories left to sit on her hard drive.

We spend a while deciding which ones she likes the best, and then I pull out my credit card, leaving no opportunity for her to change her mind. It isn’t until we’re getting dressed for our evening with my mother and stepfather that her focus shifts and her nerves begin to show. I don’t understand why she’s so anxious, a fact that I bring up on our car ride down to Denver while she’s busy squeezing my hand every other second.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” she admits, her eyes staring out the passenger side window as the sun makes its descent for the day.

“Theodora, I’ve
never
done this,” I counter.

She coughs out a humorless laugh before she says, “That actually makes me feel worse, not better. I mean, think about it—you’re almost thirty-two years old and you’ve never felt inclined to introduce a woman to your mother. While I’m flattered beyond belief, I can’t help but wonder what your mom is thinking. Her expectations must be through the roof. Her son is—well—have you looked in the mirror today? She’s got to be—”

“You’re babbling,” I interrupt. “You’re also
assuming
a whole lot about a woman you’ve never met.” She looks at me bashfully, a hint of a blush coloring her freckled cheeks. “Yes, it’s true that since I’ve become an adult, there’s not been anyone significant to introduce her to. For obvious reasons, Aubrey was never more than a subject of conversation. But what does it matter who she has or has not met? The mere fact that I’m bringing you to dinner is a statement of your significance to
me
—and correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m the one with whom you share a bed, not my mother.”

“You’re right. But…”

“But?”

“She’s your mom. Her opinion matters. If it didn’t, we wouldn’t be going.”

I scrunch my brow, my focus still directed on the road ahead of me. “Are you worried that if she doesn’t
approve
of you in some way that I will change my mind about the nature of our relationship?”

When she doesn’t respond, I turn my gaze on her just long enough to find her staring at me with uncertainty in her eyes.

A bemused smile lifts the corners of my mouth as I shake my head. “Tell me, Teddy—do I strike you as being the sort of man who lets his mother’s opinions shape his decisions?”

“No,” she whispers.

“Stop worrying, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. And if you need me to remind you, I’m more than happy to pull over and fuck you right now.”

She squeezes my hand as she frees a nervous giggle. “You wouldn’t.”

I grin, pleased to at least hear her laughing, and squeeze her hand in return. “Be careful, Teddy. That sounds awfully close to a dare. Question me again, and you’re likely to be meeting my mother a lot more wrinkly than you are now.”

“Judah!” she laughs.

I bring her hand to my lips, kissing the back of her palm before settling our conjoined hands back in my lap. “Don’t forget, you won’t be the only new face at the table.”

“Yeah,” she says with a sigh. “Harper’s actually really good at meeting the parents.”

“You make it sound like she’s got some sort of track record of serious relationships.”

“There were a couple in college,” she says nonchalantly. “For a while, we all thought she’d marry one of them—but in the end, the idea freaked her out too much. Anyway, Harp has this charm about her; it’s why she’s so good at what she does. She makes her third-graders fall in love with her, and she woos their parents into wishing she’d stay with their kids for the duration of their elementary school education.”

“I’ve been around your sister,” I begin suspiciously. “She’s got a mouth not appropriate for all ages.”

“Yeah,” Teddy chuckles. “There’s an on/off switch for that. I’m sure she’ll be on her best behavior tonight.”

“We’ll soon find out.”

I take the next exit off of the interstate, and it’s not ten minutes until I’m handing my keys to a valet attendant before escorting Teddy inside the restaurant on my arm. Ghelarducci’s Kitchen serves my favorite Italian cuisine, the recipes with origins in Tuscany, a fact I share with my shy girl as we approach the hostess stand.

“Have you ever been? To Tuscany, I mean?” she asks.

“Unfortunately, no. Not yet. I’ve been to England and France, but Italy is still on my to-do list.”

“Oh, I’m jealous,” she sighs. “I’ve never been anywhere.”

“You’re just out of college, that doesn’t surprise me. But with your appreciation for art, I’m sure you’ll travel.”

“I hope so.”

I give the hostess my name, and we’re informed that two from our party have already arrived. Something tells me my mother’s excitement over the evening encouraged an early arrival time, so I kiss Teddy’s temple, whispering for her to breathe as we follow behind the brunette who leads us to our table.

As soon as we’re spotted, my mother stands and makes her way around her chair. She’s always been a slight woman, much like Aunt Eddalyn, only her blonde hair is darker, and grown out to her shoulders. Her blouse is too big for her frame, her pants are too long, and the only jewelry she’s got on is her wedding ring—but she was never one to care about such things. It’s the smile on her face that makes her beautiful, and when she opens her arms, I don’t hesitate to bend down to offer her an embrace.