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Tell Me (One Night with Sole Regret 6)

Page 43

Chapter Nineteen

Gabe found his mother in the living room, holding up Melanie’s discarded bra with one finger.

“I see you’ve been busy,” she said, her tone disapproving.

Gabe scooped up the clothes scattered all over the room and hurried to hide them in the half-bath.

“Is she still here?”

“Don’t embarrass her,” Gabe said. He was used to the constant condemnation of being a disappointment to his mother, but Melanie wouldn’t know what hit her when Katherine Banner let loose her better-than-thou routine.

“Well,” his mother said. “Where is she? In your bedroom, I suppose.”

“If I’d known you’d stop by unannounced, I’d have hidden her in the barn.”

“Will you cover up those horrible tattoos?” she said. “You know I can’t stand to look at them.”

She was referring to the ones on his head. He’d already covered the ones on his body with long sleeves. He didn’t bother to argue since they’d been over this a thousand times in the past. She treated him almost normal as long as she wasn’t confronted by his body modifications. He slipped a baseball cap onto his head and heard the hiss of water hitting the hot burner in the kitchen.

“I have something boiling over on the stove,” he said and jogged to the kitchen.

He was glad to see Melanie taking care of his forgotten meal, but not glad that his mother had followed him.

“And you would be…?” his mom said in a tone dripping with disapproval.

“I’m Melanie.” She extended her hand toward his mother and they exchanged a terse handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Banner.”

“Kathy,” she said.

Gabe was a bit surprised that she’d offered up her name so readily. She smiled warmly at Melanie.

“You look positively normal,” she said, her body going limp. “The last girl he brought home had pink hair and her nose pierced.”

Melanie looked to Gabe for guidance. He shrugged slightly. His mother had never taken a shine to any woman he dated.

“Well, I must warn you,” Melanie said. “I do have my navel pierced.”

His mom patted Melanie’s arm as if a pierced navel was the least of her concerns. “That’s nothing. My son has tattoos on his head.” She pointed to her own mass of short light brown curls. “On. His. Head.”

Melanie chuckled. “Yeah, I noticed that.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“I was a bit startled by them at first,” Melanie admitted, “but I’d already seen what he was like on the inside and the outer package was just gravy.”

Gabe smiled to himself, loving that Melanie was unashamed to speak of her attraction to him. Could she tell how much his mother abhorred his tattoos? If Melanie truly wanted to gain his mother’s favor all she had to do was agree that the only thing worse than Gabe dropping out of college to become a drummer-of-all-things was having his scalp tattooed. Apparently, Melanie declaring that she liked who he was on the inside was a good strategy as well.

Gabe watched dumbfounded as his mom looped an arm through Melanie’s and sat with her at the breakfast bar, leaving him to finish cooking.

“He had such a promising future before he joined that rock band,” his mother said, as if she were trying to talk Melanie out of doing something foolish, like fall in love with her rock star son. “We all thought he was going to follow in his father’s footsteps, though Gabe was always more interested in the application of physics than in the theory behind it.”

Melanie choked, no doubt thinking about how he applied physics. The tips of his ears burned with embarrassment. He in no way wanted his mother to know about his little hobby.

“I think he’s doing all right for himself,” Melanie said, and offered Gabe a wink. “Are you a nurse, then?” Melanie asked, examining his mother’s dark blue scrubs.

Gabe cringed. Melanie’s honeymoon period with his mother was about to come to a crashing end.

His mom clicked her tongue against her teeth in disapproval.

“And you were doing so well, Melanie. If I was a man in scrubs, you’d have thought I was…”

“A dentist?” Melanie guessed.

“A doctor.”

“My mother is a surgeon,” Gabe said, to let Melanie off the hook. His mother always played these little games with people. It drove him nuts.

“Oh,” Melanie said, looking impressed, “what kind of surgeon?”

“Heart surgeon. I was on my way home from the hospital after an emergency procedure when I saw Gabe’s lights on and thought I’d stop in to say hello. Doesn’t my son talk about his family?”

“A bit,” Melanie lied kindly.

“Where are you from?” his mom asked. “You don’t sound local.”

“Kansas.”

In the ten minutes it took Gabe to finish cooking their meal, his mother questioned Melanie about her education, her career, her family, her health, her parents’ health, her grandparents’ health, and her future prospects. Gabe’s head was spinning just from hearing the interview. He assumed Melanie would be exhausted after the extensive third degree.

Gabe mixed the hodgepodge of pasta with spaghetti sauce, microwaved meatballs, and parmesan cheese and set the pan on the granite countertop of the breakfast bar with a clunk.

“Are you staying for supper, mama?” he asked, praying silently that she would see her way out the door.

“What in the world are you feeding our pretty little Melanie?” she asked, eyeing the pan of pasta speculatively.

“Smells wonderful.” Melanie tossed him a bone.

“Spaghetti-less spaghetti,” Gabe said and removed the toasted garlic bread from the oven. He tossed it on the counter with a clatter and turned back to the stove to collect the pan of mixed vegetables that had boiled dry and were slightly scorched.

“Um,” his mom said, sliding from the stool. “I should probably head home. Your father will be worried.”

At this time of night, his father would be obliviously asleep in his recliner, but Gabe wasn’t going to argue her out of leaving. He loved his mother dearly, but at times he had a hard time dealing with her unending scrutiny. He simply could not relax in her company.

His mom slipped from her bar stool, gave Melanie an enthusiastic hug, and crooked a finger at Gabe to beckon him to the door.

“Go ahead and start without me,” he said to Melanie. “I know you’re hungry.”

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