Jack sticks his hands in his jeans. “Well, which part do you mean? There’s a whole lot.” He pauses. “I’ve done some things I’m not proud of, but that was a long time ago.”

Oh, smart. Blanket statement that covers the DUI and the partying . . .

“That book some girl wrote about you. I read part of it. It was terrible!”

I close my eyes.

“No, ma’am. Not true. She just wanted money, and people love to talk about me. I tend to not say anything back, and it drives them crazy.”

“Because you’re famous.” Mama puts her hands on her hips. Wearing old jogging pants and a T-shirt with the pink Cut ’N’ Curl logo on the front, she’s not dressed in her usual slacks and blazer, but you’d never know it by her regal stance.

“I just play football.”

Oh, Jack. Please. You’re famous.

“Well, I never heard of you,” Mama retorts. “We never even had a football team here in Daisy. School is too small.”

Devon laughs. “Even me, Mrs. Riley? You’ve heard of me, right?”

She swivels her head to him, probably eyeballing the hair, tattoos that peek out from his sleeves, and those black earrings. “No, but you’re memorable. What color is that in your hair? You need to come see me. I’ll fix it.”

He laughs. “Devon Walsh, wide receiver. Pleasure to meet Elena and Giselle’s mom. Nice girls you have.” He takes her hand and kisses it.

She blinks.

Young James Bond steps forward, all brawn and blond. Even today, he’s dressed in a black turtleneck and dark jeans. “I’m Quinn, ma’am. I do security for Jack. Beautiful property here. Love the town. Jack drove us around for a few and showed us the sights.”

The sights?

Mama starts. “Security? Bless. Do you carry a gun?”

Quinn laughs, looking at Jack. “No. I usually just stock his fridge and arrange his schedule, stuff like that.”

“Well, that must be boring.”

Mama!

“Keeps me busy and out of trouble, ma’am. Jack and I are sort of foster brothers.”

“I see.” She lasers in on Aiden. “And you?”

“Aiden Woods. Best quarterback on the team.” He shakes her hand.

“Watch it, Alabama,” Jack murmurs. “You’re only here to be of use. I can send you home at any time.”

Aiden smiles sheepishly, nudging his head at Jack. “He’s better than me. For now.”

Mama takes it all in, her foot tapping, before turning back to Jack. I can’t see her face, but I know she’s sizing him up, deciding if he’s to her taste. She’s playing back all that stuff she read online, the book, probably recalling how he went to Timmy’s school.

I hold my breath, waiting for her reply.

If she calls him a hayseed . . .

He fidgets as he shifts from one foot to the next, color rising on his cheeks as she stares at him. His eyes land on me again, and I shake my head at him. Mama has you in her sights, my eyes say. Beware!

She lets out a long exhale. “Well, about those things I read . . . gossip is a terrible thing. Ruins lives. People need better things to do with their time. I appreciate everything you’ve done for Timmy and Laura. I heard you bought back their house she lost when her husband died. I’m sure you didn’t have to do that.”

My eyes flare. He did that? How does she know?

She knows everything . . .

“Stop stalling. Cynthia is scary.” Aunt Clara pokes me in the back. “You better get down there before she runs them off.”

She wouldn’t!

She might . . .

Topher laughs from the front swing, where he’s sat down. Wearing old jeans and a faded Queen shirt, he’s taking it all in. “Ms. Clark and Birdie Walker have driven by the house twice since they pulled in. Lunchtime in Daisy is causing a traffic jam. Guess it’s hard to miss an Escalade, Range Rover, and the red Maserati. Wonder who that belongs to? I’m betting Mohawk.”

“Cars and people driving by are not the issue! There are four football players in my yard, and I don’t know why,” I exclaim.

“I know. It’s awesome.” He grins. “We haven’t had this much excitement here since, well, never. I should go get my diary and jot this down. Good material. Maybe take some pics.” He sighs. “Although you did leave that pie at his place. I should hate him for that.”

“You aren’t moving a muscle. I might need you.” I go down the steps toward Mama but hang back a few paces, wavering as I pretend to bend down to tie my shoe. I’m totally waiting to see how Jack handles Mama, and vice versa.

Why is he here?

Why am I so nervous?

Mama sweeps her eyes over the four men. “Well, why are y’all here?”

It’s as if she reads my mind. Dammit, is it true that you eventually turn into your mother the older you get? No, absolutely not. Please no.

Jack flashes a smile. “To work. Elena mentioned you had a party to get ready for, and she had a lot to do. Said she couldn’t have dinner with me.”

I stand; color blooms on my face. How dare he tell her that? Doesn’t he know that once she knows we are . . . whatever we are . . . then she’s never going to leave him be?

“Well, if there’s no time for dinner, there is always time for lunch on Sunday,” she declares.

Fell right into that one! I glare at Jack.

Giselle and Aunt Clara appear next to me. Like me, they’re in sweats, no makeup, and bad hair. At least I’m not alone as we slowly inch closer.

“We can’t hear well from the porch. What on earth is going on?” Giselle hisses.

“The gods answered our prayers and blessed us with eye candy. Big muscles and handsome faces,” Aunt Clara murmurs, fluffing her hair.

Giselle winces. “Preston isn’t coming. He said he’s working late.”

On a Saturday—when we need all the help we can get? I frown.

“Does he work on the weekends a lot?” I whisper, keeping my eyes on the group in front of me as they talk.

Giselle nods, her expression hesitant. “He is the new guy at the firm.”

“Did you really tell Jack you wouldn’t have dinner with him? You have to eat, Elena.” Aunt Clara giggles. “I went to bed late last night, so don’t think I didn’t see that your car was not in your driveway.”

No privacy. Ever.

I elbow her. “Did I tell you I called Scotty to come clean the oriental rugs? He has one of those cleaning machines. Maybe he can slip over to your house later and clean yours.”

Her eyes widen. “You hussy! You did not!”

I check the time on my phone. “He’ll be here soon. He was thrilled, even offered to do it for free, especially when I told him you’d be here helping us.”

“I’m going to put rat poison in your tea,” she whispers.

I laugh.

Giselle sighs. “Everyone knows y’all are a thing. I don’t know why you won’t just make it official, Aunt Clara.”

She huffs. “I’m ten years older than him! It’s ridiculous. Everyone will think I’m robbing the cradle.” She looks down at her shirt. “Dang it. Now I need to go change clothes before he gets here.”

I grab her arm before she can head off to her house down the road. “You will not. We all look like something Romeo dragged in, and you are not going to show us up.”

She sighs. “True. I don’t want to miss one minute. I’m curious to see if your mama will tell the boys what to do or if Jack will try to take over. He likes to be in charge; I can tell.”

We gaze back at the group, and they’ve moved to Jack’s black Escalade, Mama right behind them.

“Jack’s got a power washer,” Giselle murmurs as he pulls it from the back of the vehicle.

“And a hedge trimmer that looks brand new from the Home Depot,” Aunt Clara adds with a sigh. “Elena, do you think he went and bought it just for us?”

“I have a perfectly good one,” I mutter. “It’s in the shed.”

“Who’s the blond dude? He’s not a football player?” Topher says from the other side of me. I guess the curiosity got to him, and he decided to join us.

“Quinn. Jack’s foster brother.”

“Nice,” he says, walking up to the men and introducing himself to Aiden and Quinn.

Mama looks back at us. “Elena? Aren’t you going to say hello to your company?”

Where are your manners? is written on her face. Right, right.

Giselle hooks her arm in mine, Aunt Clara on the other side, and the three of us approach the group. Daisy Lady Gang.

Jack’s gaze is on me, lips twitching. “Elena. Good to see you.”

Good to see me? Please! He had me all kinds of ways last night! My body remembers clearly.

“Nice of you to come help,” I say weakly.

“Thought you’d need some extra hands, and these guys don’t have anything better to do.”

“We could be watching game tape,” Aiden mutters, and Jack smacks him on the arm.

“Patience is a virtue, Alabama. Pick up that trimmer, and start on the flower beds. Might bulk you up,” he tells Aiden. “You try to keep up with me in the gym, but you’re puny. Need help carrying that box?”

“No.” Aiden picks up the trimmer and stalks off, calling over his shoulder, “You owe me—and not just for this.”

“What else should we do, Jack?” Devon asks, and Jack sweeps his eyes over the house, looking at ease as he tells everyone what to do.