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“Mom. Dad. What are you doing here?”

Her mom at least appeared sheepish.

“We tried to call your cell phone and figured if you weren’t home, we’d just drop these things off to you. They were having a sale at Target, and I just thought they would look so pretty on you.”

Hannah took the bag and looked inside. Three or four brightly colored wool scarves intertwined, and Hannah smiled at her mom.

“Thanks, Mom. I love them.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to the guy wearing my shirt?” her dad said gruffly.

Hannah cleared her throat and glanced up at Blake, whose expression was friendly.

“Blake Kline, these are my parents, Gilbert and Patty York.”

“How do you do, sir?” Blake took her dad’s hand first and then her mom’s. “Ma’am.”

“Oh! You’re the man who saved Hannah’s life,” her mother said excitedly. “What are you to up to?”

Her father was still scowling at Blake, and Hannah sighed, knowing there was no way out of the situation.

“Blake is my date.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

HANNAH WANTED TO bang her head against the wood of her kitchen table, cursing her weirdly close relationship with her parents. Considering how rarely she dated or even mentioned having a date to them, it was no wonder they expected her to be home alone, doing nothing on a Saturday night. Of course, they didn’t have to make it any more awkward by inviting themselves in, but they had. Her dad had actually grabbed the pizza that arrived moments later and bulldozed his way past all of them, camping out on the couch.

Hannah leaned to the side, trying to see Blake, who was sitting on the couch adjacent to her dad, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

“Hannah?” her mother whispered.

Hannah turned her attention back to her mother, who was watching her with one of those worried expressions she always got when she thought Hannah wasn’t eating right or wasn’t studying hard enough.

“What?”

“Well, we came by to drop off a present—”

“Unannounced,” Hannah muttered.

“We tried to call, but you’ve never minded us dropping by before.”

“I’ve also never had a guy over when you’ve dropped by.”

Her mom grimaced, as if she’d tasted something foul. “Do you . . . have men over often?”

“God, Mom! No, but even if I did, I am an adult, and this is humiliating. How would you feel in my place? You meet this great guy—”

“Is he great? I know he saved your life, but you never said you were interested in him. Why didn’t you tell us about him?”

“Because I wasn’t sure there was anything to tell, and there probably won’t be anything ever if you don’t get Dad and go!”

Hannah could tell she’d hurt her mom’s feelings, but honestly, at some point they had to treat her like a grown-up and respect her boundaries.

“You know I love you guys, but next time, if I don’t answer, please don’t just drop by.”

“But what if there was something wrong? On ID—”

“Mom . . . ”