Series: Fever Falls Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
I texted him back: Hope you’re ready to meet my mother.
I would have thought it weird or too soon, but considering I’d met his mom right when Jace and I started chatting, it was almost long overdue.
His reply came quickly: Really?!
I could tell by the emotion it stirred, eagerness and exhilaration, that we were in serious trouble.
But as with every other decision I’d made, I embraced it because if trouble meant getting to spend more time with him, I was ready for a train wreck.
32
Jace
As I helped Nance prepare the meal for when Dax and his mom arrived, I was practically skipping around the kitchen from excitement.
It’d been two full weeks without seeing Dax, and despite how much we chatted via text or on the phone, it wasn’t the same. I liked having him around, and the fact that he was bringing his mom into town assured me that the time we shared meant as much to him as it did to me.
I dodged Mac as I pulled the casserole out of the oven and set it on the counter beside the sink.
Keegan snickered at the table. “Are you whistling?” he asked, glaring at me, but smiling as though he could read the hell out of me.
“Oh, I guess I was.”
I checked Nance’s expression. She didn’t say a thing, just grinned along with Keegan. They’d both caught on to my enthusiasm, and I wasn’t ashamed of it, either.
I’d never been so goddamn happy before Dax. I loved my life, but Dax brought a new level of joy into it. I enjoyed the time we’d spend together, discussing movies and TV shows, catching up about our lives. Every time he smiled or tucked his head low, revealing that vulnerable part of himself he didn’t seem to show many, it filled me with such life.
I checked my phone once again. No new messages.
Dax had texted fifteen minutes earlier that they were on their way, so they would be here any minute now. As I whipped the potatoes, Nance and I chatted about the fire station’s annual car wash that Dax and I would be attending the next day.
The doorbell rang.
“Jace’ll get it!” Keegan called from the table, and Nance erupted into a fit of laughs as I dashed to the door and opened it, eager to greet our guests.
“A little plastic surgery wouldn’t kill you,” Serena was saying, and then she flashed a smile.
Dax was all tension and nerves as he stood there, hands dug into his pockets, shoulders squared off, his eyes wide. Having heard that bit, I could only imagine the conversation they’d had on the ride over.
His mom wore an ivory dress with a trim white belt around her waist. She had some sort of fur draped across her shoulders. Her hair was dark as Dax’s, with a few blonde highlights weaved into it. And only because of her mention of plastic surgery did I take note of the fact that except for her smile lines, nothing was defined as she stood there, beaming at me.
“Well, if it isn’t Hottie Firefighter,” she said with a lighthearted chuckle. “Enchantée.”
It didn’t take much effort to envision this slick woman in the prime of her career. She offered a hug like a woman who could work her way around any flashy Hollywood event. Unlike me, who always felt like a penguin in the suits I had to wear and like I was always saying the wrong things, she seemed to know she fit right in. Dax eyed me uneasily, as though he was nervous about the introduction. I imagined him feeling the same way as a kid.
“As much of a stud in real life as you are in your pictures,” she noted as she pulled away. “I’m Serena Victoria Middleton-Stuart, but you can call me Miranda.”
“Is Miranda your real name?”
She put her hand to her chest and let out a long, drawn-out laugh. “No, my real name is Katherine, but Mother was terribly uncreative with names. What sort of major stars are named Katherine?”
Dax started down the list: “Katharine Hepburn, Kate Hudson, Kathy Bates…”
Serena rolled her eyes, telling me, “He just looks for opportunities to jab at me. He was like this as a kid, always biting at me. But it was great training for my little Chiweenie.”
“Please, come in,” I insisted, feeling as though if I didn’t offer quickly, Serena or Miranda or Katherine might have talked herself to death before even stepping past the threshold.
We started past the foyer, then through the hall and into the kitchen. “So you prefer to be called Miranda? Dax always calls you Serena.”
“It’s just easier to use our pseudonyms at events if we use them regularly. Lord knows I didn’t name my son Dax. You know it’s harder for child stars when you have to rebrand and such.”