One glass—two at the most—would let her fall asleep.
No.
“Please, God, don’t let me. Please help me.”
Chapter 5
Brent’s mother adjustedthe silverware in front of her and gave him a suspicious look. “So, to what do I owe the honor?”
“What, can’t a man take his mother out to breakfast for no reason?”
She narrowed her eyes. “He could, and yet I don’t think that’s the case here.”
“Sorry, Mom. I should be the type of guy who takes his mother out to breakfast.” Especially since his dad had died. His mother had lots of friends. He knew she wasn’t lonely. But still, he was her son. “I want to be that type of guy. Life just goes by so fast. I’m so busy—”
“Wait till you have kids. You don’t even know what busy means.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
She sat back so fast and hard that her chair creaked. “What?” She’d gone pale. “You got someone pregnant?” It was a whisper, but a loud one.
He waved his hand. “No, no,” he said loudly in case anyone was listening and then lowered his voice. “But I have decided that I think I’m interested in someone ...” He sounded like a dunce, and he hated it. “Maybe. Anyway, I’m not really much of a romancer, so I wanted to ask your advice.”
She frowned, the color returning to her cheeks. “Advice? On how to be a romancer?”
He chuckled. “Well ... yeah.”
“I have no idea. Your father wasn’t much of one.”
Brent knew that he was a lot like his father, a chip off the old block people always said, so this revelation didn’t surprise him. “Still. You’re a woman. Tell me how a woman would want to be ... pursued.” Great. Now he sounded like a bounty hunter.
“Who is she?”
He shook his head. “Not quite ready to reveal that yet.” He wasn’t going to tell a soul because she might well reject him.
Her scowl deepened. “Tell your mother who it is.”