“Nice,” he said, eyeing and then uncorking the gamay noir she’d brought. He poured two glasses and set them on the kitchen island. “You want a glass of wine, Dad?”
“Nope,” came the reply from the other side of the island, where Dax’s father stood at the stove, stirring something that smelled delicious. “I’ve got a beer, thanks.”
“Would your mother want a glass?” Amy asked, eyeing a third wineglass Dax hadn’t filled.
“Not of that fine vintage,” he said, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a box of wine. “Only the worst for my mom.” Wagging his eyebrows, he used the spigot to fill the glass with a bright pink liquid.
Amy grinned and reached for the glass. “I can take it to her.”
“Not yet,” he said, grabbing it back, turning to the freezer, and plunking an ice cube in. “Voilà.” He made a face.
She made one in sympathy.
“At least we’re not at their house. They don’t have air-conditioning, and when it’s hot out like today, she mixes it with 7-Up.”
“About ten minutes till dinner’s ready,” Dax’s father called, talking to no one in particular.
“Dax! Where’s my drink?” came Lin’s voice from the living room. “You know I like to get my buzz on before stroganoff.”
Amy followed a grinning Dax into the living room. “Madame,” he said, performing an exaggerated courtly bow over his mother and kissing her hand before handing her the pink wine. She accepted it but swatted him with her free hand.
There was such affection in their eyes—both of them—it nearly took Amy’s breath away.
She didn’t have time to examine the thought any further because Lin turned to her. “Dax says you’re not his girlfriend.”
“Mother.” There was warning in Dax’s voice.
“That’s right. We’re just friends.”
“They went paddleboarding together yesterday,” Kat said, though Amy wasn’t sure what her point was.
Lin nodded. “So if you’re not Dax’s girlfriend, maybe you can tell me what the hell is wrong with him.”
Amy almost choked on a sip of her wine.
“Mother,” came Dax’s strangled reply.
Lin ignored her son. “Now, I know I’m biased, but it seems to me that he’s not bad-looking. Am I wrong?”
Amy glanced around. Dax had his head in his hands, and Kat was grinning.
“Ah, no, you’re not wrong.”
“And we all know he’s smart and successful and, apparently, obscenely rich. So what’s the problem?”
“Mother, please. You’re talking to the angel—to use your term—who delivered your granddaughter. Can you cut her some slack?”
“Go get me a refill.” Lin held out her empty glass. “Extra ice this time.” Then she turned to Amy, clearly not willing to let up until she had her questions answered.
“Okay, well,” Amy began, watching Dax retreat to do his mother’s bidding. “I don’t think that there’s any inherent problem with Dax.” Except that he’s kind of a jerk. But she didn’t say that part. “It’s more that he’s not looking for a serious relationship.”
“Which I’ve been telling you and telling you, Mother,” he said, reappearing with another glass of wine. “I don’t have time for a relationship. I’m too busy with the company.”
“So how am I supposed to have grandchildren if you won’t have a serious relationship? It’s been fifteen years since Allison, and—”
“Mother!” Kat said sharply. Apparently, his sister, though she had been riding his ass about Amy in private, was the only member of his family with any boundaries whatsoever.
“Supper’s ready!” Dax’s father called.
Dax leaped to his feet. Saved by stroganoff.
…
Goddamn, his mother was on fire tonight. She was always like that to a certain extent, but having Amy for an audience was inspiring her to perform extra hard. By the time they were ten minutes into dinner, she’d already informed Amy that she was too skinny and recommended a practitioner of traditional Chinese medicine to help her “put some meat on her bones” because “a woman needed some hips for childbearing.” He’d given up trying to rein her in, turning instead to drowning himself in the excellent wine Amy had brought.