Roman-1(Lane Brothers, Book 5)(79)

I jump and bang my head on the toilet stall, wincing when I rub at the offended spot and meet the beginnings of a lump.

“Sissy!”

Jesus. Can’t even get away from her for a morning without her finding me.

“I’m coming, Mama!” I yell back, wrapping the stick in toilet paper and shoving it right to the bottom of my purse. If I throw it in the trash someone is bound to find it and—

“Goddammit, Cecelia, if you don’t get your ass out here right now I’m coming in there.”

“God’s sake, Mama, you’re a pain in the ass,” I mutter as I walk out and meet her at the sinks.

She glares at me, her slightly graying, shoulder length blonde hair swishing with her every movement.

“How could you do that? I almost had a heart attack when I went into your room and you weren’t there. There’s a madman running free, likely looking for you, and you decide to hitch a ride to town. Without the security guys!”

To say that I am so not in the mood for this is one big-ass understatement. I’ve just discovered that I’m breeding the seed of the one man I swore never to see again, even if my dumb ass does sorta love him, and now my mama wants to lay into me for ‘upsetting’ her?

Heck no.

“Look, Mama,” I say through gritted teeth, losing my temper with her for the first time ever. “I’ve done everything you wanted. I came back home even though I really didn’t want to. I’ve spent almost an entire week in bed, bored out of my skull, and I let you talk me out of even sketching for the meanwhile. I just wanted a little time to myself and maybe one of Lazy’s vanilla milkshakes.”

“Cecelia—”

“Give it a rest, Mama. Just let me be a little.”

Her eyes go misty before a rueful smile splits her painted pink lips.

“Oh gosh, girlie, I remember that look from the early days with your daddy. You went and fell for that tycoon, didn’t ya?” she asks softly, chortling so hard her breasts jiggle behind her pink tank.

My mama may be in her fifties, but she still has a slamming hot body and can pull off a lot of different shit that women half her age can’t.

“No, now shut your yap and buy me a milkshake before I ditch your ass here and hitchhike back to the ranch,” I warn, feeling myself blush despite my annoyance.

“Girlie, you got that same caught in the headlights look I had when I realized I loved your fool father. I was so spitting mad at him and myself I could hardly breathe,” she says, tugging me out of the bathroom and to a booth in the back.

We stay silent as the little waitress takes our order.

“So, you went and fell for a player. I should have known you would. It’s in our DNA. We Bennet women always choose the baddest boys around.”

I snort and eye her as if she’s lost her fool mind.

“First of all, I am not in love with Vincent. We’re not even together anymore. We had a brief, mutually satisfying affair, and now it’s over. Secondly, Vincent is like the epitome of GQ suave. The guy irons his jeans, for God’s sake. Bad boy?”

I start laughing at the thought of prim and proper Vinny doing anything that requires a normal guy attitude. He’s so…British, and upper crust, I doubt he’s done anything so daring as eating one of New York’s famous hotdogs.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s totally badass in bed, but that’s where his bad boy tendencies stop.

“You young ones,” Mom says with a shake of her head, thanking the waitress when she passes by to hand us our shakes and an order of chili cheese fries. “You don’t see it. Can you honestly tell me your young man is city sleek and primpy? Did you not see what he did to that Eric guy?”

Of course I do. I’d been the one to describe Vincent’s attack to my parents, something that had seemed to particularly please my father, and now that I think of it, that was not just anger giving him the edge. Vincent knows how to fight, no doubt, and if I’d had the honor of seeing Eric before he’d escaped I can damn guarantee he’d have looked like minced beef.

So now I have to re-evaluate my thoughts as well as accept that I am in love with a man I know nothing about.

Shit.

“And don’t go telling me you don’t love the boy, Sissy. I can see. Now tell Mama what had you running wild this morning. And don’t you dare try to bullshit me.”

Jesus, had I really forgotten what a hard-ass my mama can be? For years I’ve put her in this role of the poor little ranch wife who’s ruled—and totally adored—by my father, but that is so far from being the truth.

My mama can give as good as she gets, and she frequently has Daddy running around like a headless chicken just to keep her happy.