“I guess so.” Adam shrugged at Sam. “Even if it is a little crowded, this chili’s the best I’ve ever—”
“Thanks,” Nick responded. “I was afraid I might’ve made it too spicy for an Anglo.”
Clearly taken aback again that Nick had made their lunch rather than Sam, Adam recovered quickly. “Not at all. I love spicy food. I especially like the black beans and shredded beef. Most people use ground round and red kidney beans.”
Nick sprinkled some grated Monterey Jack cheese and green onions on his chili and turned to Sam. “So what makes you so sure Dani went to Haley’s?”
“Where else do you think she is?”
“Where any teenage girl would be. Running after the boy she likes. She’s probably making-out with Ryan as we speak—assuming they didn’t cross paths because he was heading over here to chase her.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Oh, dear Lord, I hope not.”
“Nick’s got a good handle on teenagers.” Adam chuckled.
“I simply remember being young. Getting lucky is all I thought about.”
“So what’s changed?” Sam muttered under her breath as the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house.
“Speak of the devil. I bet that’s him now.” Nick jumped up and headed to the foyer. He swung the door open, and, sure enough, there stood Ryan.
“Hey, Mr. R. I’m supposed to rehearse with my buddies for a couple of dances we’ve booked. I was hoping Dani could come to our practice.”
“Sorry, she went to Haley’s.” Even if his daughter had been home, he wouldn’t have allowed her to go to the band’s rehearsal.
Ryan stuck his head in the door and sniffed. “Are you makin’ chili again?”
“Dani’s mom reheated the leftovers for lunch. There’s still plenty left. You’re welcome to have some.”
“Really?” Ryan glanced at his watch. “I don’t have to be at rehearsal for another hour. Hey, maybe you could come along and jam with us?”
“Sounds like fun. Come in and have some lunch.” Nick stepped back to admit the boy. “The more the merrier.”
Heaven forbid Sam and Adam should lack for company on their date.
~*~
Could they arrest a woman for murder if she
accidentally
clobbered her ex with a pot of hot chili? All the defense lawyers on TV always argued the prosecution had the burden to prove a homicide was deliberate.
Samantha winced at the sight of Ryan following Nick into the kitchen. No. Death by chili would be too quick.
“Adam,” Nick said, “I don’t believe you’ve met Dani’s friend, Ryan Flynn. Ryan, this is Dr. Chase.”
While the boy shook Adam’s hand and took the fourth seat, Nick pulled another bowl from the cabinet, filled it with chili, and set it in front of the kid.
“How are you today, Ryan?” Sam asked, making an effort to be polite.
“Great. Especially now that I’m getting more of Mr. R’s chili. As you can see,” Ryan said, pointing at her nearly empty bowl—“you missed an awesome meal last night.”
“Believe me, Ry,”—Nick snorted softly—“Dani’s mom didn’t starve.”
She cringed before the rest of his words could leave his mouth.
“Her date took her to the Fountain,” he explained and added in a loud whisper, “That’s a five-star joint in Philly, in case you didn’t know.”
“I think I’ve heard of it,” Ryan mumbled, shoving a spoonful into his mouth.
The stiffening of Adam’s back said Nick had hit the bull’s-eye he’d been aiming for. Adam turned his tortured gaze toward Sam. “You’re dating someone else?”
“No! Well, not exactly,” she revised. “Marc is just an old friend who asked me to dinner.”
“An old friend,” Adam repeated tersely, “who shelled out for a five-star restaurant?”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about, Chase.” Nick flipped his hand in a dismissive wave. “Marc was married to her best friend who died recently.” The moment Adam’s shoulders relaxed, Nick continued. “The guy you
should
be concerned about is my brother.”
“I know all about Justin.” Adam scooped up another spoonful of beans. “He was a big help around the house while you were in sunny California.”
“That must be why she’s going to the theater with him next month,” the big jerk took obvious delight in informing her date.
Adam’s spoon stalled halfway to his mouth.
“Dani’s going with us,” Sam quickly added.
Nick cast a sideways glance at Adam. “Did Sammy ever tell you she dated my brother back in high school? Or that—”
Sam slammed her hand down on the table. “That’s quite enough, Nick!”
He ignored her outburst and continued, “—I would like nothing more than to reconcile with her?” His smug expression was more obvious than a dog peeing on a tree trunk to mark his territory. “I know she’s not ready to commit to anyone yet, but I think it’s only fair that you know about
all
of your competition.”
She glared at him, grinding her teeth. Oh, yes, he deserved to suffer a long, painful death. The pleasure would be worth rotting in prison. For that matter, if she was lucky enough to get a jury box full of women, she would probably be acquitted/
“So-o, how about those Phillies?” Ryan asked, breaking the awkward silence.
Sam stood and crooked her finger at Nick. “May I please have a private word with you in the living room?”
“Of course.” He rose from his seat. “You know I’d follow you to the ends of the earth—or anywhere else,
Abejita
.”
He shadowed her to the front of the house where she spun to confront him. “Exactly what do you think you’re doing?” she whispered.
“What?” He spread his arms in an innocent, clueless gesture. “I’m being sociable.”
“Sociable, my aunt’s fanny! You’re intentionally trying to sabotage my relationship with Adam.”
“I thought he should know I’m determined to convince you that you’re all mine.”
“I have a divorce decree that says otherwise.”
“I was referring to
reality
not
legality
. The truth is you wouldn’t melt in my arms or moan my name in your sleep if you really wanted Chase or anyone else.”
If he rubbed her nose in her weakness for him one more time, she might just have to kick the arrogance ass right in the gonads.
“I find it hard to believe you respond to him the way you always have to me. And still do. In fact, I’d wager a year’s salary you have to fake it with the handsome doctor.”
Her expression must have cued him he’d crossed a line, because the instantaneous regret on his face told her he’d suddenly realized he was behaving like a jackass.
“Look, I’m sorry. I know I took things a little too far.” The big oaf raised his hands in surrender when any intelligent man would be covering his crotch.
“A
little
too far?” She pointed toward the front door. “I want you out, Nick. If you value your health—and your family jewels—you’ll go.
Now
.”
“I’m sorry. I know I was being a jerk, but the idea of that wife-poaching bastard stealing you from me and making love to you—”
“Number one,” she cut him off, holding up her index finger, “I’m no longer your wife. And, two, Adam can’t steal what you no longer have.” She pointed toward the door a second time. “Get out!”
~*~
Adam silently stared down at his nearly empty bowl to avoid meeting Ryan’s gaze. When he glanced up for a moment, he found the teenage boy concentrating on his own food, clearly as uncomfortable overhearing the argument as Adam was.
Samantha’s and Nick’s conversation had started out as barely audible murmuring and had slowly risen to muffled angry snarling that allowed him to catch a few select words. Nick voiced something about reality and legality. Oh, yeah, and the handsome doctor.
It was nice to know Nick felt as threatened by him as Adam did by Samantha’s ex.
Their voices lowered again for a moment before Sam responded loudly with some sort of threat to Nick’s family jewels, culminating with her shouting the order, “Get out!”
“I just shelled out for an airline ticket for Bethany,” Nick’s voice rose to a level that said he no longer cared if they were overheard in the next county. “How do you expect me to afford a hotel, too?”
“I don’t really care. Stay at a motel that offers cheap shampoo. It’s not my problem.”
“It sort of is,
cariño
. Unless you want to reimburse me for the mortgage payment I recently made? Then I’ll be happy to—”
“You know I can’t afford to do that.”
“Then it looks like I’ll be staying here.”
“Not in my room, you won’t!” Sam hollered.
Ryan glanced up at the ceiling as Adam stiffened. Nick had been sleeping with her?
“In that case, I’d better get Ryan to help me move the sofa bed down to the living room.”
A relieved breath hissed through Adam’s teeth.
“Fine, you do that. And when you strain your back, you can bet that year’s salary you’re so eager to wager I won’t be calling an ambulance to help you!” she yelled over her shoulder as she stomped back in to kitchen. The scowl on her face transformed into a forced smile she directed at her daughter’s friend. “When you finish your chili, Ryan, I believe Dani’s dad would like to see you.”
“I’m done now, Mrs. R.” The boy catapulted from his chair and quickly dumped his bowl and spoon into the sink. “Thanks for lunch.”
As Ryan high-tailed it out of the kitchen, Sam wilted back into her seat at the table. “I’m sorry, Adam. You didn’t deserve that.” She clenched her teeth and released a low growl from her throat. “That man’s audacity never ceases to amaze me.”
The only thing that kept Adam from giving her argument with Nick a standing ovation was the suspicion Sam was trying even harder to prove to
herself
that she and her ex were finished than she was to convince Nick.
She stirred what was left of her chili, which had to be cold by now, and muttered into her bowl as if speaking more to herself than Adam, “I might have to put up with him living here for the time being, but that doesn’t mean I have to talk to him. Or even acknowledge his existence.”
“I guess Nick’s having trouble admitting it’s over between the two of you.”
“You think?” she snorted softly. “There’s only two ways that arrogant oaf will ever accept I’m no longer his wife. I’ll either have to die or marry someone else.”
It was on the tip of Adam’s tongue to volunteer as the groom, but her pursed lips told him it was the worst possible moment to push his cause. “Well, considering how many good years you have left,” he chuckled, “I hope you choose the less drastic option.”
“At the moment, I don’t find either choice particularly appealing.”
Grunting and thumping on the front staircase drifted into the kitchen, indicating Nick and Ryan were indeed moving the sofa bed downstairs.
“Although,” she continued, “I’d love to see the look on the idiot’s face if I waved an engagement ring under his nose.” A sly smile curled her mouth. “It would serve him right if I bought a fake diamond for myself.”
“Then do it.”
“Right. And exactly who will I claim gave it to me?”
He shot a
duh
look at her and pointed at himself. “Yours truly?”
“Adam.” She heaved a weary sigh. “You promised not to pressure—”
“I’m not. Believe me, I’m hardly ready to propose at this point in our relationship,” he fibbed. He lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. “I’m suggesting a
bogus
engagement.”
Samantha glanced over her shoulder toward the living room. “Don’t tempt me.”
Which was precisely the reason for his proposition. If she pretended to be madly in love with him for while, maybe she’d eventually be ready to move marriage from the top of her things to
avoid
list to her
to-do
list.
~*~
An hour later, Nick lounged against several packing crates in Mike Jenson’s garage, listening to Ryan’s band perform. At sixteen, Ryan was the youngest member of the group. Fletcher and Travis were seventeen and eighteen, and Mike was already a freshman at the community college.
Not only were the four boys extremely talented, but they’d obviously been influenced by an eclectic mix of musical eras. The band had a unique sound that blended the vocal harmony of the sixties with the pop-rock of the eighties and a touch of techno-jazz from the nineties. The kids also had the good sense not to drown out their lead vocalist like so many overzealous performers did.
In Nick’s experience, a group of green musicians tended to operate on ego, each eager for his individual instrument to stand out as the star, rather than working together to subtly showcase the singers’ voices and the songs’ lyrics. The three older boys clearly recognized Ryan’s golden throat was their money-maker and had the potential to push their band onto the Billboard chart.
At the end of their second number, Nick applauded. “You guys sound great, but the theatrical part of your performance needs polish. If you don’t add a little panache and movement to your routine, you’ll look like four stick figures on stage.”
Mike, the drummer, glanced at Travis and Fletcher, the lead guitarist and bass player. “He’s right. You guys need to move around more. Ry and I can’t since he’s gotta stay behind his keyboard, and I’m stuck to my drums.”
“That’s true,” Nick agreed, “But you two can still put some flair into your technique. Exaggerate your arm movements a little, Mike. Shake your head a bit. Convince me you’re totally into the song. And, Ryan, your feet aren’t glued to the floor. You should be making love to that microphone while you’re singing solo.”
“Yeah.” Fletcher laughed. “Pretend it’s one of Dani’s luscious ti—”
Travis shoved the bass guitarist, cutting off his obscene suggestion. “He’s her father, dipstick.”
“Oh, shit, I didn’t know.” Fletcher shrugged. “Sorry, man. Ryan just calls you Mr. R. Aren’t you kind of young to have a kid in high school?”
“Yeah, I am. But that’s because I thought like you when I was your age. Concentrate more on your music and less on getting laid, and you may avoid the mistakes I made. And if you really want to succeed, stay away from booze and drugs, too.”
Four heads all nodded in a patronizing way that suggested they’d already heard that particular sermon too many times from their parents.