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“So this brother-in-law… Would he be one of the Vances?” Lorraine Monroe is no dummy.

“He might be.”

“I see.”

As with most everything that I’m afraid might make her worry about me, I breeze past it. “I’ve only met him a few times. It’s no big deal.” I decide against showing her the antique key on the diamond keychain, which might suggest otherwise.

She settles onto her barstool again. “Really? I’d say any man who givesyoua kitchen either understands you very well or likes you very much. And very possibly both.”

“He didn’t give it to me. It’s just a loaner,” I say lightly, which is true. Harlan made it clear that the kitchen is only temporary.

And that our relationship is only temporary, and sexual.

Which means I won’t be telling Mom anytime soon that I’m screwing him.

While she might be into casual sex for herself these days, I’m not sure she’d be thrilled about any man wanting to fuck me while constantly telling me we’re never going to see each other again.

She never believed Justin was the one for me, and I know she worried that I was giving way more than I got in that relationship.

Of course, she was right.

But I don’t want her to disapprove of Harlan.

As much as it annoys me, I always want her approval. She’s my role model.

She had a beautiful relationship with my dad. She’s the queen of cupcakes, and taught me almost everything I know in the kitchen. And maybe it took me until I was an adult to really appreciate it, but she worked hard as a single mom to make my life as worry-free as possible after Dad died.

I want nothing more than to do that for her now. The last thing I want her to waste her precious energy on is worrying about me.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her, snapping the lids on my tote bins shut. “The kitchen is amazing and there are no strings attached.”I think.“I’ll send you photos of it.”

“I’d love to see it,” she says cheekily, and I know she wants to seehim. She probably thinks I like him. “And does this mysterious kitchen benefactor have a first name?”

“It’s Harlan,” I admit. Then I add hastily, “Please don’t look him up.” Nicole didn’t find much, but you never know.

The man doesn’t exactly give “someone you want your daughter to date” vibes in spades.

“I make no promises,” she says.

“Have a lovely day, Mom. Eat that lasagna.” I give her a kiss on the forehead, then scoop up a bin and head for the back door.

“And where are you off to?”

“I’m setting up my new kitchen!” I can’t hide my joy. “I have two client cakes to make this week. And I have to get settled and figure out my new ovens. They’re Miele!” I practically skip just saying it.

“Uh-huh. And does your new kitchen come with a bed?”

I pause in the doorway, doing my damnedest not to blush. I balance the tote on my knee, blinking innocently at my mother and feeling sixteen. “Why would you say that?”

“I just noticed that your bed went mysteriously unused last night. And the night before.”

“I’m thirty-one, Mom. And you’re sounding very judgmental for a woman who hasEat Metattooed on her thigh.”

She does. It’s one of those details about my mother that I could’ve died happily never knowing.

She blinks back at me innocently.

She’s happy, and it makes me crack a smile.Damn it.