Leather Kisses

Leather Kisses. 19

"Are you sure your parents won't mind that I'm staying?" I asked, in a sudden panic as we walked up the cobble stone path leading to his quaint, country house.

"Promise. My mom loves this kind of stuff," Dean reassured.

The moment we stepped inside, a warm glow of light and heat hit us. Dean took off his leather jacket, threw it onto the couch, and called out for his mother.

Mrs. Marks stepped into the living room from the kitchen. As soon as I saw her, I knew where Dean got his good looks from. She was a petite, exotic beauty. There were long, voluptuous curls in her dark, stallion mane. Her skin had a deep, olive coloring, and her eyes were as black as night. Her good looks out-shined the nurse scrubs she wore.

As she wiped her hands with a dish towel, she took a good, long look at me. "Who's your friend?" She asked politely.

"Mom, this is Riley. She's from my school," Dean introduced. "She needs a place to stay tonight."

Mrs. Marks extended her long, slender hand to me. "It's nice to meet you, love. I've heard so many wonderful things about you. We don't have a guest bedroom but one of the couches in the living room is actually a pull-out bed. I hope you don't mind."

"It's alright, I don't mind at all," I replied, with a soft smile. I didn't need a room at the Ritz, I just needed a place to rest my head.

"Wonderful, you're welcome to stay as long as you'd like."

Dean was lucky to have such a kind woman as his mother, unlike the bitch of a mother I had. I got the sense her and Dean were very close, which would explain his soft sensitivity. While their home was small, it felt like it was filled with love.

"Thanks, Mrs. Marks," I modestly replied.

"Please, call me Josephine," she insisted with a warm smile.

Dean plopped down on the couch, and picked up his brother's carving knife. "Where's Alex?"

"Where else?" Josephine rolled her eyes. "Out with the boys, of course."

Dean moaned. "Right . . ."

"Well, I should turn in for the night. I've got a long day at the hospital tomorrow," Josephine said, brushing herself off. "Dean, can you help Riley with the bedding?"

"Sure, Mom."

"Thanks sweetie," she lightly kissed the top of his head. "It was nice to finally meet you, Riley."

"You too," I replied, but it was too late; she was already out the room and down the hallway.

Dean spread out across the couch and made himself comfortable. "See? I told you she was cool."

"Yeah, she is. I like her, she's sweet," I mumbled, as I nervously lowered myself onto the chair across from him. But that was a real understatement; she was everything my mother was not. "What's your dad like? Will I get to meet him?"

"Not tonight," he quickly replied, then paused briefly. I crinkled my eyebrows at his unusual reaction. "Well, I should go get the bedding for the pull-out couch."

He jumped up from his extended position, and exited the room. When he came back, he had arms full of sheets, blankets, pillows. Together, we made up the bed that pulled out of the couch; smoothing down the sheets, fluffing the pillows, and throwing down the covers. As I slipped underneath the blankets, I realized that this was just as, perhaps even more, comfortable than my bed at home.

Dean cleared his throat as I snuggled up under the covers. "Do you want to borrow some of my clothes to sleep in? I can't imagine you're too comfortable in jeans."