Real Sexy (Real Dirty Duet #2)(31)

That was Amber, always concerned about how things would look.

Because I wasn't driving on that trip, I caught her every reaction as we drove into town. Amber wrinkled her nose at the Sleeping Giant motel, and made a face like she smelled something bad when she caught sight of the Boot Scoot Honky Tonk.

She asked, "Is this really it?" three times.

I didn't need to see the town through her eyes to know that it wasn't good enough for her, even though she finally stooped to calling it quaint.

I turn down my parents' street, wondering how Ripley is going to feel when she realizes that we're going to be sleeping in an apartment over their garage that they fixed up as a guest suite.

Amber had looked around like she was searching for the nearest Hilton. We made it one night before she swore something crawled on her, and then took off with security and the Escalade the next morning. I stayed for the rest of the weekend with my family, getting a ride back to Nashville from my folks, who I treated to a couple of nights in a swanky downtown hotel and tickets to the Grand Ole Opry for their trouble.

My parents are the type who would donate a kidney to one of their kids without batting an eye, so they tried to say no because it was just a simple ride. I wouldn't let them turn it down because I was also trying to make up for the embarrassment Amber caused.

She'd picked at Ma's cooking, asking if she had vegetarian options, even though I'd seen her eat meat before.

It was a train wreck. When I confronted Amber about it a few days later, she gave me some story about being so nervous, and begged me to forgive her. She went on and on about how loving my family was and how sweet they'd been to her, and even though it burned, I let it slide. 

I let way too many things slide with her. I was such an idiot. Thankfully, the good Lord was watching out for me, and saved me from making the biggest mistake of my life.

If it were anyone but Ripley, I might second-guess taking a woman home this soon to meet my parents. For some reason, I know she's going to fit in just fine. Maybe my folks will realize my judgment has improved in a big way too, because I'll be proud to introduce Ripley to them. She's an amazing woman.

I'm also hoping that by seeing me with my family, Ripley will finally start to understand that she and I aren't so different.

Am I using them as my secret weapon? Maybe. But to get Ripley to give me a real shot, I'll do whatever it takes.

"Here we are." I turn down the gravel drive with a white mailbox and a split-rail fence. Just beyond the giant birch tree sits my parents' white farmhouse and barn-sized garage. Ma's mums are in bloom on the porch, and an American flag flies from the pole above the black-and-white POW/MIA flag.

"It's so perfect," Ripley whispers, glancing over at me. "You really grew up here?"

I nod. "Sure did. My parents have lived here for over thirty years."

"Wow." Her tone carries a hint of wonder, reaffirming everything I expected.

The front door flies open and a mutt comes running out, barking his fool head off. I pull up a couple of feet and park behind my dad's truck. It's five thirty on Friday, which means he just got home from work and dinner will be on the table by six.

"They have a dog!"

The excitement in Ripley's voice takes me by surprise. I had no idea she liked dogs.

"They've always had at least one. This is Buford. He's one hundred percent Heinz 57."

When Ripley blinks at me in confusion, I explain. "He's a mutt. Adopted from the pound before they could put him down."

"Can I pet him? I've always wanted a dog, but . . . it wasn't in the cards."

Damn, now I want to give her a whole damn litter of puppies just to see how she'd light up.

"Go on ahead. He's plenty friendly. I'll get your door."

I climb out of the truck, give Buford a rubdown and a pat on the side, and come around to let Ripley out. Once I've got her door open, Ma calls from the front porch.

"It's about time, young man! I'll put a couple extra plates on for dinner." Ma doesn't sound surprised in the least to see me standing in the driveway. She's got a sixth sense about things like this.

"Be right in, Ma!"

The screen smacks against the door frame as she steps back into the house, no doubt to return to the kitchen to make sure whatever she's got cooking doesn't burn.

When Ripley is out of the truck, she hunches over and Buford races full speed, knocking her on her ass before covering her face with sloppy licks. Instead of screeching like a lot of women might, Ripley laughs, sounding genuinely happy.

Looks like I'm gonna be housebreaking a puppy if that's her reaction.

"He's such a good boy!"

When Ripley looks up at me, her eyes shining and her arms around Buford's neck, it hits me. Game over. I'm done. She's it. The one.