"Is there anything I should know about your family before I meet them?"
Taylor's eyes flashed briefly to my face before he refocused them on the road.
"Like what?"
I shrugged, even though I doubted he could see the gesture out of his peripheral vision. "I guess just a rundown of their personality, things I should expect."
"Yeah, sure," Taylor agreed. I looked at his face, where I could see evidence of his deliberation in the tense muscles around his eyes and the slight pull of his mouth. "My mom, for one thing, is very friendly and social. She's also very, um....touchy."
"As in sensitive?" I played with a lock of my hair, twirling it around my finger. The last thing I wanted was to say something stupid and offensive because I'm so nervous I'm not thinking clearly.
Taylor's tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth and he smirked.
"I wish. I meant literally touchy. Expect lots of hugs and hand holding and things like that. But if you're not comfortable with that, you can tell her. Or I can, if you'd be more comfortable with that. I promise she won't get offended."
"I'm okay with it, actually."
I was. I grew up in a very affectionate family. Hugs and kisses and arms around the shoulder were the norm.
"And what about your dad and uncle?"
"My dad is nice as well, but he's a lot quieter than my mom. If he doesn't say a lot, it doesn't mean he doesn't like you. He just prefers to listen than talk."
Okay. I could live with that. After all, he sounded a lot like someone I knew.
Myself.
"My uncle, on the other hand, loves to talk. Mostly about hockey. It's pretty much all he knows."
He'd probably get along with my dad, then.
"Anything else?"
With his face looking directly ahead, giving me a perfect view of his profile, he said, with a completely straight face: "If you hear something scream from the basement, don't worry. We feed it every so often."
"Hilarious," I said, biting down on my lip to contain the smile that was desperately hoping to come through.
"Well, it made you laugh."
"That was a scoff, not a laugh. I found that joke pathetic, not funny."
"Pathetic, ouch."
I was so tempted to reach over and give Taylor's arm a light punch, but I wasn't sure if that was appropriate. It was how I'd react if he was Thomas, but maybe I shouldn't get in the habit of treating Taylor like my brother.
Or maybe I should.
"Do you have a dog, by the way?"
With an amused smile, his eyes cut to my face.
"No, we don't. Why, are you afraid?"
My eyes narrowed an eighth of an inch. "How'd you guess?"
Taylor smiled and brought one arm behind his head to scratch the back of his neck. "Because the majority of dogs are probably bigger than you."
True. But it's not just big dogs I'm afraid of.
"I hate to be that annoying kid in the back seat during a road trip, but are we almost there?"
Taylor checked his blind spot before he changed lanes. We had been driving for a while nowâmaybe twenty minutes?âand it was almost twilight. My favourite time. I either loved or hated a darkening sky. There was no in between. When it was daytime and dark, I hated it, but come late afternoon, especially on a summer evening, I loved it when the sun disappeared.
"Yeah, we're actually only about two minutes away now."
That was sobering information, but not completely unexpected considering that Taylor had just turned into a residential neighbourhood. My teeth captured my bottom lip and I tried to inhale a deep breath.
"You still okay?"
I looked over at where the softly spoken words came from. With a small smile on my lips, I nodded. I'll admit, hearing that we're so close to his houseâand his familyâdid invite some of the anxious feelings, but it wasn't anywhere near what I was feeling at the airport, thank goodness.
But even if the feelings were as bad as those hellish ones, I doubted they would last long. As the Jeep turned on to a street lined with bungalows, a large hand came to my thigh and squeezed.
If there was some way for Taylor to feel my pulse from where out bodies were connected, he'd probably think I was on the verge of another attack.
He'd be mistaken. Anxiety wasn't the cause of the increase in my heart rate this time.
"Okay, this is it," he said as he pulled into a driveway. "This is where I grew up."
Taylor pulled the keys out and leaned back in his seat. He watched me take in the house. It was small, a bungalow, with white and gray painted brick.
"It's cute," I murmured.
My voice wasn't all that shaky. A small victory.
"Ready for my family to become obsessed with you?"
"As I'll ever be."
It wasn't until Taylor was out of sight and grabbing my suitcase out of the trunk that I allowed myself to smile at his words. He was probably just trying to calm my nerves, but it was still nice to hear.
I let him lead the way up the short walkway. For some reason I was expecting him to knock, but he had a key on him. Obviously. This was still his home.
Taylor smiled and winked at me as he pushed open his door.
Of all the things I could possibly be thinking in that moment, I thought about that scene in Twilight where Bella accuses Edward of dazzling people. Because that's what comes to mind when Taylor winks.
It's actually a thing of beauty. He manages to keep the other eye wide open and smile, all while not looking constipated.
And that's how I managed to be thinking of her son's sexy wink when I met Sofia Hudson for the first time.
"They're here! You're here!" a woman who was pretty much the older, female version of Taylor practically squealed. "Come here, look at you!"
Taylor was right. She was a hugger. I was still standing in the entryway when she pulled me in to a warm hug. It was the type of hug that felt so genuine and loving that you couldn't help but melt into it and wrap your arms around the other person in return.
"Welcome to our home, Camille. We are so happy to have you."
Now that she wasn't screeching, I could detect the Spanish accent.
"Mom, she's barely in the house."
I waved Taylor off. "No, no, it's fine. It's so nice to meet you, Mrs. Hudson, thank you for having me."
Now Sofia waved me off. "Please, I'm Sofia. Mrs. Hudson makes me feel old, which I am not." As she said the last bit, she gave her son a warning look.
Taylor laughed soundlessly and rolled his eyes.
I bent down to take off my shoes so Sofia wouldn't think I was laughing at her. Oh god, I hoped I wouldn't get the giggles at the dinner table.
"Oh, please, dear, keep your shoes on."
"That's okay. I brought slippers."
Sofia nodded in approval and lightly slapped me in the arm. Now I knew what Taylor meant.
"Smart girl. Come to the living room. I'll introduce you to Taylor's dad and uncle."
Right. One down. Two to go.
I followed Sofia down the hallway and Taylor trailed behind me.
"You know, she never greets me with a hug like that," he whispered.
"I heard that!"
"Yeah, but she doesn't hear me when I ask what's for dinner."
His whisper was even softer that time, and Sofia didn't end up hearing, which made it even funnier.
"Don't make me laugh," I said in between gritted teeth.
We stood on the other side of the threshold and I watched Sofia sit on the arm of a couch that was occupied by two men. Although one had a shaved head and the other had thick, light brown hair, they shared a brotherly resemblance.
"Dad, Uncle Mark, I'd like you to meet my friend, Camille."
Both men stood up and offered a friendly smile. I didn't think they'd be a hugger like Sofia, so I extended my hand for them to shake.
Taylor's dad, James, was the bald one and Uncle Mark was the one with the hair.
"Forgive us for not meeting you at the door," Mark said. "It's just that we know that meeting Sofia can be a bit of an overwhelming experience, to say the least."
Sofia playfully narrowed her eyes at her brother-in-law.
"His words, not mine," James said. "But I have to admit, I agree."
Being spoken to by Taylor's dad was the first time since I've arrived that I got an anxious inkling. I could see what Taylor meant by him being quiet. Even when he spoke, there was something soft and introspective about it. He seemed like a person whose opinion carried weight no matter who he was with or where he was. I could tell by the way Taylor looked at his father that he thought the world of him.
"It's really nice to meet you all. Thank you for letting me stay here."
Like the idiot I was, I looked at Mark when I said the last bit. It wasn't his house, for crying out loud. Oh well. At least the homeowners heard.
"Can we eat now?" Taylor asked. "I'm starving."
"Yes, please!" Mark agreed.
Even James took a quick step in the direction of what I assumed was the kitchen.
"Oh, I'm so sorry if you waited to eat until I arrived."
Sofia wrapped her arm around my elbow. "Don't worry about these guys. They are always ready to eat. They wouldn't dare eat before our special guest arrived."
I highly doubted they would. Sofia seemed like a firecracker. I wouldn't want to see all that energy annoyed.
"Right this way," Taylor said to me.
"I can take her, Taylor, don't worry," Sofia told her son.
He gave me a look and I nodded, assuring him that I was okay. I watched his back disappear into the hallway.
"I'm afraid we're outnumbered here, Camille," she smiled warmly. "But usually I'm the only girl, so it'll be nice to have someone on my side for once."
I smiled, not sure what to say. I could tell by the way Taylor looked at his mother that she had at least one permanent team member.
The Hudson house didn't have a formal dining area and instead had an eat-in kitchen, a floorplan I was a fan of. By the time Sofia and I entered the room, three of the five chairs at the circular table were already taken. Thankfully, the spot next to Taylor was empty.
"I saved you a seat," he smiled.
"Thanks," I blushed, sitting down.
I tucked my hair behind my ears and glanced at the two older Hudson men. James was watching me with a small smile and Mark was tucking his phone into his back pocket.
"I made homemade pizza for us tonight," Sofia announced from behind the kitchen counter. "I was going to make a traditional Spanish dish, paella, but a not-so-little birdie told me that pizza was a better choice. And then last week I was worried about having enough food and Taylor insisted that we have chicken strips. So, I hope that's okay with everyone, pizza and chicken strips. James, a hand over here, please."
I heard James's chair scrape backwards, but I didn't see him get up. I was too busy staring at Taylor, who was staring at the tablecloth with flushed cheeks.
Did he seriously tell his mom what to make for dinner? And did said dinner consist of foods Taylor knew that I liked? And were these special requests made even before he saw me panic?
The answer was yes, for all accounts.
Eventually, Taylor looked up at my face, eyes wide and lips parted.
"I wanted you to be comfortable here," he admitted.
I nodded. Yeah, I was beginning to see that.
Sofia had made four varieties of pizza and had three kinds of dipping sauce. I wanted to wait for everyone else to serve themselves, but she made me go first. I went as fast as I could, knowing that the guys were hungry.
I guess we all were. Because for the first few minutes of dinner, no one said anything other than murmurs of appreciation for the food.
"So, Camille, Taylor, how did the two of you meet?" Sofia asked after a few moments. She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin.
I had just taken a bite of cheese pizza so I nodded to Taylor for him to answer. He told them about that night at Angela's dorm. His parents and uncle seemed amused, which made me feel a little embarrassed.
"Well, technically, we met after one of his games," I said.
Uncle Mark's ears perked up and he shot me an encouraging smile.
"My best friend won tickets to the Storm's preseason game from the university's radio station and I went with her. We were waiting at the bus stop and Taylor was walking to his car with a classmate of ours, and he stopped to say hello."
"I, of course, remembered that encounter but it was so brief I don't really consider it how we met," Taylor said.
What a liar. I knew he didn't remember me from that night when he came to Angela's room. I send a small glare his way, but don't call him out on it.
"So, Camille, are you a hockey fan?"
Guess who asked that? Uncle Mark.
"Matter of fact, I am."
"No! We were supposed to be on the same team," Sofia said. She threw her hands up in the air dramatically.
"My wife is more of a Taylor fan than a hockey fan. I'd say the same thing for me, too," James said.
I smiled at Taylor. He was lucky to have parents who were so supportive of him pursuing a sport that they weren't exactly crazy about. It was a lot of time and money invested, solely because they loved him.
"I'm a fan of both, Taylor as a player and the sport as a whole. My dad's a big fan and my brother played recreationally when he was younger. Hockey feels like home."
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Taylor watching me with a thoughtful expression.
"Well, I'm really happy to have a fellow hockey fan in the house for a few days. Too bad there's no game on that we could watch together, but I'll be picking your brain about a few things for sure," Mark said.
"I'm looking forward to it." I dunked a chicken strip in ketchup and took a bite.
"And I was starting to really like her," Sofia joked.
"You know, Uncle Mark," Taylor said. "Camille has some really impressive hockey knowledge. It's impressive..."
"Taylor, I know you're not about to say you're impressed because she's a girl!" his mother warned.
Taylor lifted his hands in innocence. "No, I was just going to say it's impressive."
Yeah, right.
That comment would have been sexist, but I understood. His conclusion would just have been a result of a mental shortcut. When most people thought of girls, they didn't think hockey fanatic.
"I wouldn't say it's that impressive," I said, jumping to Taylor's rescue. "But I've watched enough games in my lifetime to get a pretty good grasp of the rules and then I guess I'm just good at retaining information. It's definitely helpful when it comes to studying."
James put down his water glass. "Oh, that's right. Taylor mentioned that you're a university student. What are you studying?"
"I'm a psychology major and January will be the start of my last semester."
"Congratulations!" Mark said.
"I took a psychology class or two when I was back in college. I majored in computer science, though," James said.
Wow. There was no such thing as an easy majorâdon't listen to what anyone saysâbut computer science sounded especially difficult.
"Yeah, my dad is very smart. I didn't get that from him," Taylor said.
I said, "That's not true" at the same time that Sofia said, "You're plenty smart."
Taylor's eyes widened. "Don't worry. I'm just glad I got his height."
"And your mother's hair," Mark joked.
I had to bring a napkin up to my mouth to cover my smile. I loved obvious, immature humor. Clearly.
"Do you know what you plan to do after you graduate?" James asked.
A lot of times that was a loaded question, but it didn't seem prying or judgemental coming from Taylor's dad. It just felt like he was interested in my life.
"Well, I applied to grad school for experimental social psychology, so we'll see."
James made a murmur of appreciation.
"I went to grad school, as well. My degree was course-based, though, not research-based."
"You're also forgetting to mention that you played college baseball through all your years of school. Taylor gets lots of his athletic skills from his dad. Just James played baseball and not hockey," Sofia told the table.
I wasn't surprised. James had a height and build that would serve him well in athletics.
"Speaking of hockey, Taylor, how do you think your season is going?" Mark asked his nephew.
My gaze fell on Taylor, because it was the polite thing to do when someone was speaking, but I hoped I didn't become distracted from how large Taylor's thighs looked in his white shorts.
"I'm in the NHL, so I guess it's going well?" he said quietly. "I mean, I'm not going to pretend that I'm thrilled with having four goals in twenty games, but I did expect a learning curve."
"I've seen all your games," Mark said, holding up a chicken strip. "You're playing well and getting good looks, so that's all that counts. I have a feeling the team is going to trade McDonnell, which should give you a shot to play on the first line."
A finger gently poked me in the bicep.
"Camille, do you know what they're talking about?" Sofia whispered loudly.
"Um, someone getting traded? The trade deadline is beginning of January, I think."
"Correct!" That was Uncle Mark.
Sofia cursed in Spanish and complained that everyone was conspiring against her.
"Don't mind her," James told me softly. He turned to his son and said, "Is there a chance of you getting traded, Taylor?"
"Nope. I have a no-movement clause in my contract. So, I don't have to worry about that."
"Well, that's all good and well," Sofia said. "But I don't want to talk about hockey anymore. I'd rather know more about Camille."
Okay, I was happy to talk.
"Do you have a boyfriend, Camille?"
If I had been in the middle of taking a sip of water, I'd pay money to bet that it would have ended up on Mark's forehead after that question.
"Mom!" Taylor said.
"No," I answered. "I've been focusing on school."
That, and I also haven't met anyone I've even remotely wanted to pursue a relationship with.
Except your son, of course.
"Hmmm," Sofia hummed.
Trying to be as discreet as possible, I looked at the faces around the table. The three men looked so damn uncomfortable it took everything in me not to burst out laughing.
"Taylor is also single," she continued. "I think that's too bad. You guys don't realize how nice it is to be in love. And you just never know when it's right in front of you."
What on god's green earth...
"Or, you could just stay single for your entire life, like me!" Mark piped up.
"Yeah, that's probably not a bad idea," Taylor said.
My heart sank. Did he really feel that way?
"But then again, when you meet someone really special, why wouldn't you want to be with them?" he finished.
Soar, heart, soar. There was hope, after all.
Calm down, Camille. He didn't mention you, did he?
When everyone was finished eating, I offered to help clean up, but James told me that that was his jurisdiction.
"I left the suitcase in the front. I'm just going to grab it and then I'll show Camille the guest room," Taylor said.
Uncle Mark gave his brother a look but it came and went so quickly that I couldn't decipher what it meant.
"Thank you for dinner," I told Sofia.
"Thank you, dear," she said softly, with the most beautiful smile covering the entire lower half of her face. "For being here."