Rastor (Lawton Rastor Book 2) (25 page)

I froze. Her hand was pressed tight against my crotch, looking for an erection that wasn't there – and wasn't
going
to be there, not for her.

Now normally, a hand on your privates is a hard thing to ignore. But that's exactly what I did, because something even more disturbing was going on.

I gave Chloe a quick glance. She looked pale as death as she stared at that fucking gravy. Next to me, Josh was silent, staring down at his empty plate – probably hoping it would
stay
empty, at least of fish barf.

As for Lauren Jane, she was surprisingly good at multi-tasking, because she was still yammering on about her trip to Cancun, even as her hand ground tighter against the crotch of my jeans.

Whatever. She could root around all she wanted, she wasn't going to find anything interesting. And soon, she'd be needing that hand to pass the dishes. Thank God.

I gave Chloe's stepmother a sideways glance. She'd returned to her seat and was giving Chloe a smug look, almost like, "Yeah. It's oyster gravy. What are
you
gonna do about it?"

Didn't she know? Chloe wasn't going to do anything, because
I
would. Silently, I ran through my options. I recalled what Chloe had said about the last time, that she'd put up a fight, only to see Josh pay the price afterwards.

So, that ruled out beating someone's ass. Unfortunately.

We could take Josh and get the hell out of here. But then what? Some judge would make us return him, and he'd be eating oyster gravy every day until he was eighteen. That meant we had to stay, and we had to keep it friendly.

I studied Loretta from the corner of my eye. The way it looked, she was spoiling for a scene, maybe even a fight.

A fight – that didn't scare me. I'd welcome it. But there'd be collateral damage, and it wouldn’t fall on me. It would fall on the girl I loved and a kid who didn't deserve this kind of treatment.

As far as the gravy, that left only one option. I had to get rid of it the old-fashioned way. And then, I'd need to get the hell out of here fast, but not so fast that it would piss anyone off.

"So," Lauren Jane was saying, "we're wearing these matching bikinis, and some guy staggers up to us, and says, 'Hey, are there two of you? Or am I seeing double?'"

Her hand was still there, pressed up against my crotch. Nothing was happening, and it wasn't
going
to happen. It especially wasn't going to happen while I eyeballed fish barf in a fancy bowl.

While Lauren Jane blathered on, I did the math in my head. Fifteen minutes to eat, ten minutes to visit afterward, fifteen minutes to get to the hospital, and then what? An hour for stomach-pumping or whatever?

Hey, I'd survived worse. In a few hours, I'd be as good as new, or at least that was the idea. I'd just need to hit the hospital in time. Not a problem. I was a fast driver with a fast car. Whatever it took, I'd make it happen.

I had to. Because I couldn't stand the idea of seeing Chloe – or her little brother – being abused like that.

I loved her. And I
owed
her. Twice, I'd accused her of horrible things that weren't true. I'd doubted her. I'd made her feel like trash. If it came down to it, I'd take a bullet for her – not because of our fights, but because I loved her more than life itself.

I glanced at the gravy. Yeah, it was a bullet, alright.

Next to me, Lauren Jane giggled. "And I told the guy, if you think
this
one's skimpy, you should see the Brazilian. And
he
thought I meant a Brazilian girl, so he's looking around, like 'Where?' And so I point to my bikini bottom and say, 'Right here.' But the guy's
still
looking around, and we're totally laughing at him, but he
still
doesn't get it." She rolled her eyes. "God, he was
so
dense."

I was only half listening. I gave Chloe another quick glance. She was staring at Josh with such concern that it tugged at my heart. All this time, I'd had Chloe pegged as something different, a rich girl with no worries. Come to find out, her life was more complicated than I ever imagined.

And I loved her all the more for it.

Next to me, Lauren Jane made a sound of impatience. "Lawton? Are you listening?"

To her? Not if I could help it.

Still, I made myself say, "Sorry, what was that?'

"I
asked
if you wanna see it."

"See what?"

She gave a sigh of irritation. "My bikini."

"Why?" I gave her a look. "You wearing it now?"

"No. But I have a picture. It's right here on my phone." She lowered her voice. "We're not supposed to have phones at the table, but they don't need to know
everything
, right?" As she said this, she gave my crotch an extra squeeze – for all the good it did.

If I was lucky, she'd need
both
hands to work that phone of hers, because the longer this went on, the more I was thinking that oyster gravy might be just the thing to put me out of my misery.

"Sure," I said. "Let's see it."

Finally, her hand left my crotch. She looked down at her lap and started doing something under the tablecloth. Whatever it was, I was just glad my privates weren't involved.

She was still looking down when Chloe's dad spoke up. "Lauren Jane? Potatoes?"

With a sigh, Lauren Jane stopped doing whatever and took the bowl from his outstretched hands. She spooned some potatoes onto her plate, and then, as she passed the bowl to me, she whispered, "I'll show you after dessert."

Yeah, right. That's what
she
thought.

The other dishes were still making their way around the table – except for one. The gravy. It was just sitting there, like a stinking turd in the punchbowl of this family freak-show.

I knew exactly how this was supposed to play out. The gravy was supposed to sit there, making Chloe and Josh uncomfortable until it was time for Loretta to make a scene. And then, her two step-kids would have to eat it, whether they wanted to or not.

Fuck that.

I reached over and picked up the gravy boat. Ignoring the smell of rotten fish, I gave its contents a good, long look. I saw chunks of something that could only be oysters – a type of shellfish, unfortunately. For me, anyway.

As I looked at the stuff, a new thought hit me. If I played my cards right, Loretta wouldn't be thinking this was so fancy after all. And maybe, just maybe, she'd be too embarrassed to make it again. Liking that thought, I felt a real smile spread across my face.

Showtime.

I looked over at Loretta. "You said oyster gravy, right?" I took a big whiff of it and grinned. "My favorite. Did you know, my great-grandma, she was a fishwife on the Detroit river, this was her specialty too?"

Loretta froze. From the look on her face, she wasn't flattered by the comparison.

Good. It's not like it was true, anyway.

Loretta bared her teeth. "How nice."

I shrugged. "Not really. She stunk like fish something awful. But man, she made the best gravy." As I spoke, I ladled a heaping helping of it onto my mashed potatoes, and then kept on going, one ladle after another.

There wasn't a whole lot of it, and I knew why. Only two people were expected to eat it, Chloe and Josh. But I wasn't going to give them the chance. I kept ladling until the bowl was empty. I looked to Loretta and tried like hell to look disappointed. "This wasn't all of it, was it?"

Her mouth tightened. "I'm afraid it was."

I looked down at my plate. "Oh jeez. I'm sorry." I lifted my plate and held it out toward Loretta. "You want mine?"

My plate wasn't even close to her face. Still, she leaned her head back like the stuff was pure poison.

Yeah, I knew the feeling.

I was still holding out the plate. I nudged it closer. "Or, we could share?"

"No," she stammered. "That won't be necessary. But thank you."

"Oh well. More for me." And then, I dug in.

Fish barf. Yup, that was pretty good description. There was no way in fuck this shit was considered a delicacy – at least not the way Loretta made it. But that was probably the point, wasn't it?

As I shoveled it in, I gave Chloe a quick glance. From the look on her face, she didn't know whether to argue or cheer. I gave her my best cocky grin and kept on going.

I didn't want her to worry. And I knew she would, especially if she knew exactly why I avoided seafood. Looking for a distraction, I glanced around the table. No one was moving. They were just sitting there, watching me eat.

Between bites, I said, "You guys are eating too, right?"

Chloe, looking suddenly embarrassed, grabbed her fork and started eating. Soon, everyone except for Loretta joined in.

Chloe's dad looked over at me and said, "Boy, you sure have a good appetite."

"Can't help it," I said. "I never eat this good at home." I made myself smile. "And if the tabloids are true, I have two French chefs."

It wasn't true. Yeah, I could afford a whole houseful of French chefs, but why would I bother? The way I heard it, they couldn't make a decent cheeseburger to save their lives.

A cheeseburger – too bad I wasn't eating one of those now. The gravy was chunky – and worse, slimy in a way that just wasn't natural. As I ate, I tried to imagine it was something else.
Anything
else.

But I couldn’t. It was that bad, not that it mattered in the long run. It wasn't the taste that would kill me. Choking down my disgust, I shoveled in the last few bites and made myself swallow – all without hurling it back up again.

I was actually pretty proud of myself.

I looked to Chloe's dad and his heaping plate of gravy-free food. That fucker. What kind of guy doesn't look out for his own kids?

He was digging into his mashed potatoes, looking happy as hell. "Two chefs, you say? Lucky me, all I need is Loretta."

I looked to Loretta. So did everyone else. She hadn't even touched her food.

"Gee Mom," Lauren Jane said, "aren't you gonna eat anything? You're not on another diet, are you?"

"No," Loretta said through clenched teeth. "I'm not on a diet."

Chloe's dad spoke up. "Then dig in, honey. This is some darn good eatin'."

What the hell was that? His cowboy voice? I recalled what Chloe had told me in the car, that he tried to mimic his guests in some sort of bonding ritual.

Across the table, Chloe was looking more embarrassed with every minute. I didn't want her to be. I wanted her to smile.

I grinned over at her. I leaned back and rubbed my stomach. "It shore is, ma'am," I said, looking to Loretta. "Mighty thanks."

Loretta pursed her lips, but said nothing.

"Gee Mom," Lauren Jane said, "aren't you gonna say 'you're welcome?'" Lauren Jane leaned her head close to mine and said in a loud whisper. "Parents can be so rude."

Loretta glared across the table. "So can daughters."

"Well," Lauren Jane said in a snotty tone, "at least I say you're welcome when someone thanks me."

After a long, tense silence, Loretta cleared her throat. "Lawton, I apologize. Of course, you are quite welcome.'"

"See?" Chloe's dad said. "Now honey-bun, was that so hard?" He pounded his fist on the table. "Now what do you say we rustle up some dessert?"

Shit. That's right. Dessert. The clock was ticking. How long had it been since I'd choked down that godawful gravy? Five, ten minutes? I glanced at my watch. In fifteen minutes, we'd need to get the hell out of here no matter what.

Chloe stood. "Dessert? I'll get it." She looked toward Loretta. "Unless you'd rather?"

Loretta waved a loose hand toward the desserts. "Go ahead. Whatever." She reached up to rub her temples with both index fingers. "I give up."

Chloe picked up the dessert dishes and started serving up cheesecake and cobbler to everyone at the table. When she got to me, I waved it away. I wasn't feeling so good, and there was no way I could choke down anything else, no matter how great it might've tasted otherwise. "None for me, thanks."

She gave me a worried look. "You sure?"

My tongue was feeling too dry and a little too thick. I nodded and reached for my water-glass. It was nearly full, but I downed the whole thing in one long, gulp. Chloe reached for the water-pitcher and filled my glass.

When I looked up, her eyes were troubled. I forced out a smile and said, "Thanks, dumplin'."

She snickered and then caught herself, turning it into a poor imitation of throat-clearing.

Lauren Jane stuck her head between us and smiled over at me. "Oh you," she said, giving me another swat on my arm.

Hey, it was better than a grab to the crotch.

Lauren Jane made a pouty face at me. "How come you never call
me
dumpling?"

Suddenly, Loretta blurted out, "Stop it! I don't know what's gotten in to all of you, but I've just about had it."

Chloe's dad eyed her with concern. "What's wrong, Sugar Cube?"

Loretta glared at him. "I. Am. Not. Your. Sugar. Cube." And then, as if realizing she was making an ass of herself, she gave him a tight smile. "Alright?"

He held up his hands, surrender-style. "Woah. Hear ya loud and clear, chief. No more sugar cubes." He looked around the table. "Got that, everyone?"

"Oh for Heaven's sake," Loretta muttered, reaching for her wine glass.

Lauren Jane ignored her mom and turned back to me. "So, you and my sister are just friends, right?"

I glanced around the table. They were still eating dessert. The way it looked, we couldn’t leave yet, so I might as well make it count. I grinned across the table. "Chloe? You wanna answer that one?"

She smiled back. "Not particularly."

Ignoring Chloe, Lauren Jane turned back to me and said, "So how'd you two meet? Was she your waitress or something?"

I leaned back in my chair. "Nope."

Chloe's dad gave another slap to the table. "Don't be shy, son. Go on. Tell us how you two met."

I looked to Chloe. "Chloe, you wanna tell the story?"

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. From the look on her face, she didn't know what story to tell. But
I
did, and it wasn't a story that Chloe had heard before.

But it was still the truth.

"Never mind," I said. Going for a casual move, I leaned forward, trying to ease the cramping in my stomach. "Lemme tell it."