“Babe,” he said against my neck when he finished laughing.
“I hate you,” I whispered.
His head came up and he was full on smiling which made my knees do a wobble, even though I was angry.
“No you don’t,” he whispered back.
I pulled out of his arms, ran to my suitcases and at least had a pair of jeans on by the time Mrs. Stark got out of the bathroom.
“Well, sorry about that. Nature calls,” she said, blushing even though the toilet didn’t flush and her eyes were looking funny.
I walked up to her, lips pressed together. “Mrs. Stark, I’m sorry if I upset you –”
Her head did a little jerk to the side. “Upset me? Oh, Ava, dear, you didn’t upset me.”
Then she walked right up to me and gave me a tight hug. Automatically, I wrapped my arms around her, confused. I thought she’d escaped to the bathroom to burst into tears of devastation that her handsome, tough guy, macho man, shit-hot, rich enough to retire at twenty-eight (now thirty-three) son had the likes of Ava Barlow in his loft.
Apparently this was not the case.
She pulled back and her hands went to squeeze my upper arms. “Well, look at you,” she smiled at me. “You always were a pretty little thing but now,” she leaned in. “You aren’t even giving Marilyn and Sofia a run for their money. You’ve left them in the dust,” she told me quietly.
I blinked.
“Well!” she exclaimed as she patted me on the arm and walked into the room, leaving me stunned and immobile in her wake. “I came by to see if I could take my son, who, by the way, never sees his mother so she has to show up unannounced at his house on a Sunday morning, to breakfast. Now, I’ll take you both,” she declared, clapping her hands together like this was her most fervent wish.
My eyes went to Luke who was standing there, arms crossed and still smiling this time at his mother.
“Lucas, put a shirt on. You’ll get a chill,” Mrs. Stark ordered.
I couldn’t help it, it was my turn to burst into laughter.
* * * * *
We went to Le Peep in Cherry Creek. This, I thought, was good as they had granola pancakes there. I wasn’t in the mood to search for my healthy living mojo, I was going to ask for extra butter and syrup and a double side order of bacon.
We took my Range Rover, Luke driving, Mrs. Stark making a big thing out of me sitting in the passenger seat by Luke. Of course I had to give in. Then when we got to the restaurant, I hung back intent on sitting at the table next to Mrs. Stark when she made a big thing out of Luke and I sitting side by side. Again I had to give in.
I knew this would be bad, but it got worse when Luke moved his chair closer than was seemly in front of Super Mom Stark, sat back and draped his arm across the back of my chair. He took it away to eat but even part of the time he was eating, he left it there. Worse than that, him being close meant his thigh was pressed full length down mine the whole time.
Argh!
To counteract the effects of Luke’s thigh, I ordered a triple side of bacon. I couldn’t eat it so Luke did and seeing Luke eat off my plate made Mrs. Stark sigh in motherly contentment.
Throughout all of this, Mrs. Stark blathered on, eyes shiny happy, about everyone in our old neighborhood; all of them she was still in touch with, I wasn’t surprised to note.
She also asked me a gazillion questions. So Luke found out I was a self-employed graphic designer; that my sisters hadn’t inherited as much from Auntie Ella because I was a favorite; that I fixed up my own house; and that I was allergic to cheap brands of cosmetics.
Then on the second pot of coffee, she announced, “Nature calls,” and got up, throwing a warm smile at the two lovebirds which was what we looked like, seeing as Luke, now done eating, had leaned into me, arm around my shoulders, fingers playing with a lock of my hair.
Once she disappeared in the bathroom, I turned to Luke, flipping my hair off my neck and out from between his fingers.
“Stop it,” I hissed.
“What?” he grinned.
“She’s going to think we’re together.”
“We are together.”
“We’re not.”
“We are.”
I made a noise in the back of my throat and leaned into him so I was close (or, I should say, closer).
“When she comes back, I’ll go to the bathroom and you tell her this isn’t what it seems.”
“And what should I tell her it is?”
“That I’ve got some troubles, you’re helping me sort them out and I’m staying at your place until it’s sorted. That’s it, nothing more.”
He shook his head. “I’m not gonna do that.”
“Why?” I cried.
“First, because she’ll worry if she thinks you’re in trouble. Second, because she’ll wonder what you’re still doin’ at my place when it’s all over. Third, because that would be a lie because that’s not all it is, it’s a f**kuva lot more.”
My heart did a stutter and I ignored it. “It isn’t.”
His hand came to the back of my neck. “I’m not sparrin’ with you about this Ava.”
“You aren’t being very nice to your mother. She actually likes the idea that we’re together. You let her go on thinking we are, when we aren’t, it’s just mean.”
I should (again) have realized what it meant when his hand came to the back of my neck. I should have read the warning sign. I didn’t.
It was when his eyes got shiny dangerous, I read the warning sign. Too late.
“Tell me, after what happened in my bed this morning, how you figure we’re not together?”
“That was nothing. I was asleep,” I lied. “You took me off guard.”
Uh-oh.
His hand tightened on my neck and brought me even closer so we were ultra close closer.
“You’re too f**kin’ much. Throughout breakfast you’ve been decidin’ how to lie to me, and yourself, about what happened. That same time I’ve been strugglin’ with the urge to walk away from my mother, drag you back to my bed, rip your f**kin’ clothes off and bury myself so deep inside you, you feel me in your throat.”
Ho-ly shit.
Did Luke just say that to me?
He did.
“Luke –”
“Save it,” he clipped. “I figure next time you’re ridin’ my hand is the next time I’ll get the truth out of you. I don’t trust a goddamn thing that comes out of your mouth but your body, that I trust.”