This so he could thrill people with his massive book collection that covered the floor-to-ceiling shelves on all the walls, impress with his baseball signed by Johnny Bench or bask in the gasps when people noticed his Chihuly Persian set.

“You really want a martini?” Sylas asked, picking up the shaker.

“I really want a martini. Vodka. Olive. Dirty. Same for Hattie.”

His dad prepped to mix, but after he had the ice in, the olive juice, he reached to the vodka and looked to Axl. “You didn’t know which she preferred.”

“I don’t know if she likes celery or how she feels about the polar ice caps melting either. We haven’t been married for five years. But I’ll find out.”

“How long have you been seeing her?”

Long enough she’s living with me, about four days.

That would make his father’s head explode, and as such, he wanted to say it, but since he wasn’t five, he didn’t.

“Not long,” he said instead.

“Not long,” Sylas repeated under his breath. “It’s like pulling teeth.”

“We’re new, Dad. Mom called to ask me over to dinner. I let it slip that I’d met someone special who I think is important and Mom wanted to meet her. So Hattie’s here. And I’d appreciate it if you’d be cool while she is.”

“I’m always cool,” Sylas replied.

“Calling her a pretty little thing isn’t cool.”

Sylas stopped pouring Cîroc and lifted his brows at Axl. “She’s pretty, and my guess, she’s eight inches shorter than you, if she wasn’t wearing those heels, so that’s little.”

Axl drew in a deep breath, turned his head to look out the window, then he went to a couch and folded his body in it.

“You’ve always been so fucking sensitive,” Sylas said in a voice that it was like he didn’t want Axl to hear what he said, but he absolutely wanted Axl to hear what he said.

He should let it go.

He did not let it go.

“Could it be, with a woman who is right now touring my parents’ home with my mother, which means she’s important to me, that I’m sensitive to the fact that I want her to like my parents?”

“I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t like us.”

“You’ve never been called a pretty little thing. If you were, you might reconsider that opinion.”

Sylas stopped fixing the top on the shaker, set it down and turned fully to Axl.

And the games were about to begin.

He was not proved wrong.

“Well, fuck, my boy’s one of those enlightened men who maybe shouldn’t call themselves men.”

“Only you could take the word enlightened and make it seem like a bad thing.”

“It is when it really means you’re a pussy.”

“We’re done.”

Axl didn’t say that.

Hattie did.

His head jerked toward the sound of her voice and he saw her standing in the doorway with his mother, both their faces flushed with anger.

Surprisingly, since she’d shown so little emotion around his father for as long as he could remember, his mother looked ready to detonate.

But Hattie …

Jesus.

Hattie.

She turned to Rachel and said, “I’m so, so sorry.” And then to Axl, she stated, “Axl, I’d like to go home now.”

He rose from the couch, having no clue how to play this, considering he was falling in love with her and she was going to eventually have to have a relationship with his parents.

Though he was leaning toward getting the fuck out of there and trying it again once his father got his shit together.

But Sylas moved to the center of the room, and in a cajoling voice said, “I know what that must have sounded like. You don’t understand. My son and I have a certain kind of banter.”

“Well, regardless that it didn’t sound at all like banter, I know you used the word pussy in a derogatory way, and since I have one, and it’s rather precious to me, I find that offensive,” Hattie returned.

Axl had to look to his feet to concentrate on not shouting with laughter or walking across the room to give her a high five.

He lifted his head when Hattie continued.

“But that’s beside the point. Your son means a great deal to me. He’s a really good man. He’s funny and he’s sweet and he’s insightful and he treats me with kindness and respect. He’s protective and he’s supportive. And he’s a fantastic cook. And if you think all of that is ‘pussy,’ well, I agree. Because it’s pretty damned fantastic, if you ask me.”

“Brava, Hattie,” Rachel crowed.

Hattie’s body jolted like she had no idea anyone else was in the room.

“Sylas, apologize to Hattie,” Rachel demanded.

His dad knew many things, as he’d be the first to tell you, and one of them was: when you face a surprising adversary, you use any means available to find a way to best them.

This time, he picked contrition and charm.

“You’re absolutely right, Hattie. For too long that word has been used egregiously, and it was equally crass, my usage of it.” He went for the gusto, putting his hand on his chest. “Sincerely, I apologize.”

“It wasn’t me you were baiting,” Hattie returned.

Well, shit.

Axl couldn’t stop smiling.

His father turned to him and the skin around his eyes was tight.

Yep.

Axl was probably going to smile all night.

“Sorry, kid, I took that too far.”

“You did,” Axl agreed.

“Okay then,” Rachel said loudly, taking hold of Hattie and moving her into the room. “That’s done. How about we move on? Hattie,” she looked to his woman, “I understand if you’re uncomfortable, but really, we’d like you to stay. And I promise, Sylas can behave himself.”

She ended that on a look at his father that Axl had never seen.

It was so pointed and sharp, it was a miracle Sylas didn’t start bleeding.

Hattie looked at Axl and she did it hard.

“I’m good, baby,” he said.

She instantly turned to his mother. “We’ll stay.”

Okay, yeah.

He knew it before.

He knew it a fuckuva better right then.

He was totally fucking falling in love with this unbelievably kickass woman.