“Tonight?” she asked in a whiny voice. “We’re kind of busy.”

Oh shit. Her mom was inviting us to dinner. This couldn’t end well.

“Well, Frisco’s mom surprised us with a visit.”

There was another pause as her eyes bounced around the room, and she shifted from foot to foot. “Okay,” she said into the phone as all color drained from her face. “We’ll be there at six.”

Fuck me. The nightmare hadn’t even begun, but I could see it plain as day. Her father and my mother together would be a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

Georgia dropped her hand to her side, still holding the phone. “We’re to be at my parents’ for dinner at six, including your mother.”

My head dropped into my hands and I tried to steady my breath. It could be fun, right? I mean, it couldn’t be that bad. They’d have to meet at some point, especially if I planned to marry Georgia, which I did.

“I get to meet your parents?” Mom asked with the biggest smile I’d ever seen her have.

“Seems so,” Georgia replied with the corners of her mouth turned down.

“It’ll be fine,” I lied to her before I walked over and hugged her. “Just fine.”

“You’re not a good liar,” she whispered into my chest.

“I’m hopeful. It’s different.” I laughed.

With my back to my mother, Georgia grabbed my dick. “You better work wonders.”

“Baby, I always make you see God with that.”

She squeezed a little harder. “You know what I mean.”

“It’ll be great,” I lied again and tried not to let my voice crack.

This could make or break us. Even if she didn’t castrate me after tonight, the collision of families could make for a very interesting future. Thank God my mother lived on the other side of the country.

Chapter 22

Colliding Worlds

The initial meeting didn’t go as badly as Georgia and I thought it would. Everyone was on their best behavior. But then Rosie brought out the wine and everything changed.

“This can’t be good,” Georgia whispered in my ear after Rosie poured my mother another glass of wine.

“Nope,” I said in a clipped tone.

She’d never been a drinker, but now that she was on her third glass of wine, things would get interesting. “I think the kids should get married in California.”

Mr. Phillips spat out his wine, spraying the coffee table. “Married?” he asked in a strangled voice.

“They’re getting married,” Mom replied, waving her hands at us violently.

“News to me,” he lied.

I’d talked to him last week and asked for Georgia’s hand in marriage. I thought she’d like that I went the old-school route and got his permission. I’d marry her anyway, but I figured I’d earn a brownie point or two.

Georgia squeezed my knee, digging her fingernails into my jeans so hard I could feel their pinch. “Uh-oh,” she mumbled.

I patted her hand. “We will not,” I said. “First, we’re not even engaged. And second, we live in Florida. We’d get married here if anywhere, Mom.”

“Why aren’t you engaged?” Mrs. Phillips asked, giving me the stink eye as her eyes crossed slightly.

Two half-drunk moms did not equal fun.

“When we’re ready,” Georgia told them, digging her fingernails in farther.

“He’s getting old. He needs babies. You get married.” Mom’s short sentences were thick with her Chinese accent.

“He is kinda old,” Mr. Phillips chimed in.

I took a deep breath, wishing I could escape. “I’m not old.”

“You need to get working on my grandchildren.” Mrs. Phillips pointed her finger at me.

“Not before marriage, of course,” Mr. Phillips added.

“Oh, please. She was in his bed this morning.”

“She was?” Mr. Phillips asked with a red face.

“She was. Their clothes were in the living room,” Mom added, thinking she was the funniest person in the world as she laughed.

I grimaced when she finished. Mr. Phillips looked like he wanted to rip my balls off, and Georgia bowed her head. I didn’t think my mom had noticed the clothes behind the couch, but obviously the woman missed nothing.

“Georgia,” her father barked, gripping the armrest of his chair so tightly his knuckles were white.

“Daddy.”

I squeezed her hand as my stomach flipped. I hated that word.

“She’s a good girl, Mr. Phillips,” I said, snarling at him. I wouldn’t let him make her feel bad for anything we’ve done.

“She’s not like those tramps he’s been with before.”

Way to go, Mom.

“Oh, my baby is finally a womannn,” Mrs. Phillips slurred and poured more wine into her glass.

“Fuck,” Mr. Phillips said.

“Oh God, this is so embarrassing,” Georgia mumbled into her hands.

“Everyone needs to stop talking. Georgia is a good girl. She’s not like any woman I’ve ever met. What she and I do is our own business. I love her and she’ll be my wife. She’s mine and always will be. I will not allow you—” I pointed at her father and tried not to yell “or anyone else to make her feel bad.”

Her father sat there, stunned into silence. He sighed before speaking. “You’re right. My daughter has the gentlest soul on earth.”

I bit my lip because that shit was a complete lie. Georgia had a side to her like a cobra. Get her going and her fangs would come out. Typically, they came in the form of fingernails that dug into my balls like a vise.

Mrs. Phillips threw her husband a challenging look. I was sure Georgia had learned the death claw from someone, and I’d put my money on it being Rosie. “She’s a grown woman.”

“I still think of her as a little girl. My little girl.”

“Let go already,” Mrs. Phillips said and sipped her wine. “We’ll have grandbabies soon.”

“I’m pregnant,” Georgia blurted out and laughed.

My heart stopped. “What?” I asked with eyes wider than they’d ever been.

“What?” her father asked, but he leaped from his chair.

“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Phillips said, smacking herself in the face.

Georgia’s dark eyes sparkled with mischief. “Kidding!” She laughed. “See, now sleeping with him doesn’t seem as bad as a baby out of wedlock.”

“You about gave me a heart attack,” I said, gripping my chest as I felt my heart begin to beat again.

She nudged my shoulder, almost knocking me over. “Come on. That shit was funny.”

“Like hell it was.”

“Georgia, you are not funny,” Mr. Phillips said as the color returned to his face.

She let out the sweetest laugh I’d ever heard. “You know I am, Dad. Lighten up. Life’s short.”

“Another bottle of wine?” Mrs. Phillips asked.

“No,” I answered quickly. “I have to work tomorrow. We better get going.” I glanced down at my watch and noticed it was after nine.

“Me too,” Georgia added before standing.

My mother turned the wineglass in her hands. “It’s not a real job.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, ready for an argument.

“I wanted him to be a lawyer. It’s a noble profession, but noooo,” she said, drawing out the word. “He had to join the military, and now he’s a private dick.”

Mr. Phillips choked on his wine and glanced at me.

“Mom, this isn’t the place to talk about your disappointment in me.” I took the glass from her hands.

After Mr. Phillips cleared his throat, he leaned forward in his chair. “I think it’s damn noble that he served in the military and became a SEAL, Mrs. Jones.”

I could’ve caught flies with the way my mouth hung open. Shock flooded me that Mr. Phillips had actually stuck up for me to my mother.