Page 48 of Playing His Game

But Adam had caught on to Mo’s game and shook his head. “No, it’s fine, Mrs. Du Pont. Mo’s right, I should be more open about it. I enjoyed the taste I got to have anyway. No need to delay dinner further because of me.”

Of course there wasn’t—after all, this dinner wasn’t abouthim.

Conversation trundled along. Maybe it was the lobster or the wine or promise of whatever dessert was forthcoming, but the senior Du Ponts managed not to be offensive for several minutes. Mo even started to hope they’d escape before his parents said something truly horrific, when Orson started to whine about his latest secretary—one of many rotating unfortunate women who worked a more general support role than Miss Daisy.

“So this Marriah says she tried to change things but can’t because of Jacobson. I told her only an idiot or an incompetent blames other people.” He scoffed.

Adam’s eye twitched. Mo reached out a foot to knock their toes together.Just a little longer.

“Sounds like she can’t do the job,” Claire said acidly.

“I’m starting to think she can’t! And now, thanks to her, we’ll have to delay our departure for Switzerland.”

“By how much?” Claire actually sounded concerned.

“Only a few days,” Orson reassured her. “We’ll still be there well before Christmas.”

Mo didn’t drop his fork, but only because he had a death grip on it already—he hated talk of Switzerland. But this was the first he’d heard that they planned to spend Christmas in Switzerland.

“Oh, will you be in Europe for the holidays?” Adam said politely.

Mo looked at him and their gazes caught. Adam’s eyes widened slightly. Mo wondered what his expression was saying right now. Could Adam read his shock and hurt and disappointment and resignation?

With Sage out of town, Mo would be left alone on Christmas. Not that hewantedto spend the day with his parents—it likely would’ve turned into something like tonight, but with less posturing. But at least for the weeks leading up to the holiday, he would have had the comfort of knowing he had plans.

“We decided to return to Saint Moritz this year,” Claire simpered. “It’s our favorite, and it seemed appropriate for our thirtieth anniversary year.”

Right. Because that was more important than their son.

“Well, that’s serendipitous,” Adam said in a bracing, cheery tone. “I’ve wanted to ask Mo—I didn’t want to take him away from family during the holidays, you see. But this way, it’s just good timing.”

“What is?” A little puzzled frown wrinkled her forehead. A charming look. Mo wondered how long she’d practiced.

“Having Mo come with me to Fredericton for the holidays, of course.” Adam kept smiling like he’d received wonderful news.

Too busy staring at Adam in shock, Mo had no idea what his parents thought of that.

“Fred Rick Town?” Claire repeated.

Adam chuckled. “Fred-rick-ton. It’s one of the three towns in New Brunswick large enough to call itself a city. That’s where I grew up and where my parents live. I’m going home for Christmas—the Canyons lucked out and have five days off in a row this year, so I’m expected to be there as soon as possible on the twenty-second. They’ll bethrilledto hear Mo can come with me after all.”

Adam wanted to take him home to meet his family? Surely not. That was insane. Not when they weren’t really…

“Oh, well, Christmas in Fredericton”—Claire said the name carefully, like it was in a foreign language—“that sounds charming.”

Orson snorted. “No Saint Moritz, but I guess Canada will have snow.”

“Probably,” Adam agreed placidly. “I can’t promise skiing or fancy resorts, but there will definitely be Christmas decorations older than we are and too much food and maybe some skating or tobogganing if you play your cards right.” He winked at Mo.

“Tobogganing. How… rustic,” Claire said faintly.

Mo didn’t spare her a glance, too busy staring at Adam with disbelieving eyes. “You really want to take me home for Christmas?” Then, remembering his parents, he added, “I mean, do you think we’re ready for that?”

Adam shrugged like it was no big deal, like he didn’t have tension in his shoulders and a defiant tilt to his mouth. “They’re eager to meet you, and my schedule doesn’t give a lot of opportunities to travel. Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you spend Christmas alone?”

A fake one?

“Mum’s been begging me to bring you home for Christmas anyway,” he added. The apples of his cheeks had gone blotchy under his freckles.An embarrassing truth?“She says I’ve withheld boyfriend access for long enough already.”