She’d been foolish to run off with him, particularly when he didn’t know what he was getting into with her. She knew he enjoyed playing the knight in shining armor but it was her responsibility to set him straight. But she didn’t want to.
“I’m a terrible person,” she whispered, startling when a knock at the door was followed by Nico’s voice.
“Mama, time to eat,” his voice chirped from the other side. “And don’t forget to wash your hands before you come to the table,” he admonished, causing her to smile in spite of everything.
They were here; there wasn’t much she could do to change anything tonight so she figured she might as well enjoy the evening. There was plenty of time tomorrow to level with Christian. She stepped toward the sink and ran her hands under the cold water before splashing her face a few times to clear her head.
Yes, that was definitely the best plan.
Tomorrow.
Mama Jo waved away his questions. “Tell me what you’ve been up to that’s kept you so busy you can’t come home for a visit? Must be something good.”
“Actually, I don’t want to jinx anything but my business partner and I may have found a venture capitalist who might be interested in investing in our club.”
“Ah, so you’re still trying to open a nightclub in the city, eh?” she mused, gaze wavering between happiness and concern. Of course, he understood her reserve; she’d been fairly open in her hope that Christian might want to move home eventually. It wasn’t that he was particularly special—she wanted all her boys to find their way back home sooner or later. Though she’d never come out and say anything that wasn’t wholly supportive so she appeared happy for him.
“Mama, you need to come out and visit sometime. The city has a lot of art you would enjoy seeing. There’s an art gallery in Tribeca featuring the photography of this real up-and-coming African-American artist that I think you would enjoy.”
“Oh?” Mama Jo said, spooning some stew. “Maybe I will someday.”
Which translated to “doubtful, but I’m going to make the effort to appear interested” and Christian bit back a sigh. “Well, just say the word, Mama, and I’ll fly you first class to Manhattan.”
“Thank you for offering, Christian. That’s right sweet of you—even if it’s ridiculous. Me on a firstclass plane ride. The idea makes me chuckle. Thomas told me you were doing real well for yourself. I guess he was right. It plain tickles my heart to hear how successful you’ve become. Now—” She directed her attention toward Skye who seemed wary of Mama, though for the life of him Christian couldn’t imagine why. Mama could disarm even the most guarded. “Tell me how you two met.”
Skye shared a panicked look with Christian and he jumped in with an answer. “At Central Park. Or more specifically at a hot dog vendor’s cart. I’d brought a boy I’m mentoring in the Buddy program out for some fresh air and she was hanging out with Nico.”
She flashed her gratitude as Mama Jo’s eyes warmed. “You’re still working with that program? Bless your heart, boy. I see I did something right.”
He laughed. “You know you did. Without your influence I’d hate to think of where I’d have ended up.”
“Amen to that,” Mama Jo exclaimed playfully. Light chuckles flowed between them as they remembered a different time and he was fully aware that it was because of Mama that he could laugh at all. Mama sobered with an apology to Skye who’d been watching their exchange with something akin to wistfulness and he made a mental note to question her about it later. He wanted to know what caused her to look with longing when she didn’t realize he was watching. He had a lot of questions when it came to Skye. A faint frown followed that realization but he didn’t let it ruin his evening. To be fair, most times he told himself he didn’t want to know details but he was losing that excuse quickly. In fact, the more time he spent with Skye, the more he wanted to know everything.
“Originally, a small town in Iowa but I came to New York to dance.”
Mama Jo nodded as if confirming it to herself. “I knew it. You have the grace of a dancer. Saw it the moment you stepped from the car. But you don’t dance anymore?”
She offered a short, pained smile. “No. A knee injury ended my career.”
“A pity.” Mama Jo shook her head. “But God has a plan. Trust in that.”
Skye didn’t know anything about that and she hated that particular platitude but she wouldn’t dream of insulting the woman who was offering her and Nico shelter for the evening so she nodded and made no further comment.
Mama Jo didn’t seem to notice her withdrawal or if she did, she didn’t ask her for details and Skye was grateful. Instead, Mama Jo picked up her bowl and moved to the sink where she started to run the hot water.
Christian jumped to his feet and shooed her away. “You made dinner, so now you go rest your feet. Skye and I will do the dishes,” he said and for a minute Skye thought Mama Jo was going to be the one shooing Christian out of the room but she relented with a happy sigh and reminded him to put the leftovers away, too, before ambling from the kitchen into the living room, saying something about a puzzle that needed doing.
Skye helped Nico clear his spot and then the boy rushed to find Mama Jo and see what kind of puzzle might be in progress.
“He loves puzzles,” she murmured, handing Christian their bowls to wash. “You know, she’s something else. It must’ve been wonderful growing up here in this house.”
He grinned. “It didn’t suck.”
She laughed, accepting a bowl to dry. “Wow. That’s poignant and profound. You ought to write copy for greeting cards.”
“Hey, I’m just truthful and to the point.”
She lifted the bowl in question and he gestured to the cabinet near the refrigerator. She put it away and returned for another bowl. “So what
was
it like growing up here?” she asked, curious.
Christian shrugged. “What you see is what you get. Three squares a day, home-cooked with vegetables from the garden. We fished in the creek, or Owen fished and Thomas and I mostly did our damndest to keep from scaring off all the fish. We chopped wood when we were angry and when we weren’t angry, and we used to have whittling contests.”
“Who won?”
“Owen.”
“Best fisher and whittler. Hmm, this Owen seems like quite the accomplished guy. What did you excel in?” she teased.
“It’s true that Owen was the best outdoorsy guy. I ain’t gonna lie but I was the best at reading people.”
“Excuse me?”
“I could beat anyone at a card game,” he shared with a wink. “And at rock-paper-scissors.”
She turned, placed her towel on the counter and then wiped her hands on her jeans before saying with a playful glint in her eye, “Prove it.”
“Oh, you don’t want to go there,” he warned. “I’m freakishly good at this game.”
“I’m hearing a whole lot of trash talk but someone’s not showing me much action.”
Amusement glinted in his eyes and her breath caught as tickly fingers of attraction played a tune on her stomach muscles. “Let’s make it interesting,” he proposed, leaning against the sink with a grin.
“I’m listening.”
“Best two out of three, loser has to share some personal information about themselves.”
She faltered, her smile fading. That was a dangerous wager. Too rich for her blood. “How about loser gives the other a shoulder massage,” she countered.
“Ah, upping the stakes I see,” he said, missing her silent trepidation at his first offer. “I see you and raise that offer with loser has to give a massage while sharing something personal.” She frowned, tempted to pull out all together and get back to washing dishes where it was safer but he wasn’t about to let her. “C’mon, I’m ready to show you my skills. Who’s talking trash now?”
She laughed. “Maybe I just want to protect your frail male ego,” she said. “You know how men can be when they fail to live up to their own hype.”
He affected a wounded stance but his gaze was warm with mirth. “Touché. Now put up or shut up, gorgeous,” he said, one curled palm poised above his flattened, upturned palm.
Well, she was about to find out how good he was at reading people, or more specifically, her.
She started when he made a sudden movement and pulled her into his arms, nuzzling her neck even as she laughed nervously, afraid of what Mama Jo might say if she found them tangled in each other’s arms in her kitchen. “You’re going to get us in trouble,” she whispered, though in truth, she found it thrilling to be wrapped in his arms.
“I like trouble,” he murmured, chasing little thrills down her back. “Especially when it looks and feels like you.”
She closed her eyes against the wave of desire that stole the strength from her legs. “And what happens when Mama Jo whacks you upside the head with a rolled newspaper for acting like a randy teenager when there’s a sink full of dishes that still need washing?” she managed to say, though she wasn’t entirely sure how.
A rumble of laughter sounded in his chest and it vibrated through her body. She could spend a lifetime pressed against him like this. Skye allowed one last moment of bliss and then pulled away. “I’m totally serious. You’re going to get us kicked out on our butts on the first night and I’m not sleeping in the car,” she said.
He stepped away but the teasing smirk on his face didn’t entirely fade, which completely crumbled her resolve. “You make a good point,” he conceded, returning to the sink and grabbing a soapy bowl. “However, I’d be a liar if I didn’t say that having you here makes everything feel different. Like
we’re
different. You know?”
She did know and it was tempting but likely to leave them both emotionally ruined and she couldn’t afford much more of that kind of damage. Not even for Christian. “But we aren’t different. Nothing has changed. We didn’t meet at the park, as much as I wish it were so,” she said quietly so Mama Jo would not overhear them. “And I saw the disgust in your eyes that night when you were cleaning me up. I’ve heard the judgment in your tone. I’m not naive. I know how you feel deep down. Even if you aren’t willing to admit it.”
He started to protest but the effort died when he saw the truth in her eyes. “Skye…I have my reasons…” he started but she rescued him from having to share them.
“We all do. Let’s just leave it at that.”
Christian braced his hands against the sink’s edge and leaned forward, head down. “Shit,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Skye—”
“Hey, it’s getting kinda serious all of a sudden,” she joked shakily, risking a short look his way in the hopes that he followed her lead and moved on.
He shrugged with a sad grin that was altogether too heartrending and she wondered how many women fell for the man’s considerable charm. “Just speaking my mind. Wanted to be honest with you,” he said.
And when she met his gaze she knew he was the kind of man whose word you could “take to the bank” as her daddy would say. He was being straight with her. And she could give him nothing. Still, she offered him a sweet smile, expressing her feelings in the only way she could and pointed at the soapy bowl. “Duly noted. Now, can we finish the dishes before your hands turns into prunes, rendering them useless for my massage? Oh, that’s right…I’m holding you to your bet, Mr. Holt, so you’d better be ready to pay up.”