Mother Hater by Daphne Elliot

Author:Daphne Elliot [Elliot, Daphne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Melody Publishing, LLC
Published: 2024-02-08T00:00:00+00:00

“This is so delicious.” I snagged another slice of sausage and mushroom.

He smiled, and his eyes did that crinkling thing. “I knew small talk with rich people made you ravenous. I could see it in your eyes. Are you gonna take my coat now? You’re still shivering.”

I shook my head. Like a gentleman, Enzo had repeatedly offered me his wool dress coat. On feminist principle, I had continued to refuse. The only fancy black coat I owned was thin and woefully inadequate for late January in Boston. His coat, thick and lush, looked expensive and warm, and it probably smelled like him. Therefore, it was dangerous and completely off-limits.

We were perched on top of a picnic table, a pizza box between us, looking out at the harbor. True to his word, Enzo had taken me to a fantastic hole-in-the-wall pizza shop, and when our pie was ready, we strolled toward the Moakley Courthouse to look at the boats dotting the harbor, the lights of the Tobin Bridge illuminating the sky above us.

“This is why I love Boston,” I said, tucking my feet under my long skirt for warmth. “Seasons, winter, progress and technology, but also the history.”

I gestured behind me. “The Tea Party happened right over there.”

“So you’re a Boston girl?”

I scoffed at him. “From the beginning. William F. Masters came over on the Mayflower. I’ve got sixteen generations of Masshole blood in my veins.”

“Masshole, huh?”

I shrugged. “I’m not ashamed.”

“I like that about you.” He gave me another eye-crinkling smile. “You own who you are. That kind of authenticity is rare.”

Alarms blared in my head, and they sounded suspiciously like tween girls. He likes me! He likes me! Annoying. This was why I didn’t bother with men. They literally destroyed brain cells.

“I don’t have time for pretense,” I explained. “I’ve got a lot going on, and it takes all my energy to keep all the balls in the air day in and day out. I have no time to disguise the less pleasing aspects of my personality, nor do I have any interest.”

“I think there are many pleasing things about you, Princess.” His eyes were molten as he looked me up and down.

Despite the frigid temps, heat bloomed in my core and radiated through my limbs. His attention felt so good. It made me long to know him and to open up to him. Clearly, I was having some kind of psychotic break. But damn, it felt nice.

“Those women your mom set you up with. Petite brunettes. Your type, right?” Brick by brick, I’d rebuild the wall between us. One of the many I’d erected over the years to protect myself.

I’m not his type, I told myself. I’m not good enough for a man like him. This isn’t a real thing. Get a grip, Delia. You’re exhausted, lonely, and grasping at straws.

“Nope,” he said. “Not my type. As they say, gentlemen prefer blondes.”

“No,” I countered. “They prefer doormats with big tits and no opinions.”

He leaned in. “Not this gentleman. I like a fiery blonde with brains, sass, and bigger balls than most men.

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