Rachel Laine (The Women of Merryton Book 3) by Jennifer Peel Read Free Book Online Page A

that way.
    “Seriously,
paint your nails and relax. Drew and I have it covered.” They high-fived again like
they were the best of friends.
    Drew’s
face shone and my heart hiccupped a little. I tried to remind myself I was his
mother and he loved me, but watching him with his father was a little painful. I
knew there were kids all over the world that had both a mom and a dad and
that’s the way it normally was, but this wasn’t a normal situation for us.
    I
did end up painting my toenails and fingernails—in the great room, so I could
keep an eye on my son. I was the overprotective sort. I caught Andrew staring
at me several times. Each time I caught him, he smiled at me.
    It
was all going well until he asked my eight-year-old if he wanted to chop the
meat or the vegetables with my very sharp knives. That got my attention real
quick, but I didn’t have to say anything right away. I had raised a mostly
obedient son.
    “My
mom says I’m not allowed to use those knives.”
    Andrew
looked at me from the kitchen. “Really?”
    “He’s
eight,” I responded.
    “I
had my first pocket knife when I was eight.”
    “So?”
    “Can
I have a pocket knife?” Drew asked.
    Okay
that was it. Drew had never asked, or probably even thought about having a
knife, and here I let a man into our lives for two days and he’s already asking
for weapons. What’s next, a gun?
    I
glared at Andrew before responding to my son. “Let’s talk about that later.”
    “You
know,” Andrew said, “learning how to properly use a knife is a good skill to
have, and it actually prevents injuries.”
    “Something
I plan to teach him,” is how I responded, though I wanted to say, this is
not your place.
    He
went with the charming smile again. “How can you with wet nails?”
    I
narrowed my eyes instead of putting him in his place. I didn’t want to argue
with him in front of Drew.
    He
seemed to take my hint. “You’re the mom, and if you really don’t want him to—”
    “Awww,”
Drew interrupted.
    “—he
won’t, but I promise to be extra careful, and so does he,” Andrew finished.
    “Yeah,
Mom. I promise to listen to everything he says. I’m a big boy now, I can do
it.”
    I
nodded before turning in disgust from both of them. I decided I didn’t like
having a father around. I especially didn’t like that he was probably right. I
probably should let Drew do more of those types of things, but they made me
nervous. I already let him get tackled to the ground on a weekly basis. A mom’s
heart could only take so much.
    I
listened as Andrew walked Drew through the proper care and use of knives like
he was teaching a Boy Scout merit badge class. “The number one rule, though, is
your mom’s rules. Okay? Don’t ever use a knife unless she gives you
permission.”
     That
somewhat appeased me, but I didn’t give Andrew the satisfaction of acknowledging
I heard that.
    Before
I knew it, they were both joining me in the great room by the fireplace.
    Andrew
set a blanket out in front of the crackling fire. We all sat on it. I noticed
how proud Drew looked of his accomplishment in helping prepare dinner. I also
observed Andrew noticing my Drew. I’m not sure which one looked prouder.
    Andrew
looked my way. “I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds.”
    He
had, but in the end it seemed like the right thing to do, so I sort of smiled
at him.
     “We
need some mood lighting.” He got up and went around turning off all the lights
until the only light source was the glowing embers of the fire in the hearth. “Now
it feels more like camping.” He resumed his spot on the blanket.
    “Minus
the bugs and the smoke in your eyes,” I commented.
    “So
do you guys like to camp?” he asked.
    “Sometimes
we set up a tent in the backyard and sleep out there,” Drew said.
    Andrew
looked to me.
    “We
really haven’t done much of it.”
    “So,
would you?”
    “Yes,”
Drew answered for me.
    I
hoped he wasn’t asking us to go camping, or even