Chapter Three
“So. You wanna tell me who this Seraphina lady is? She sounds fancy. Is she real even? Or just some fantasy woman you dream about when you fall asleep at work. I mean I’d like a grandkid or two before I kick it, Rodney. So if she’s real…”
Rod pulled his ’67 Mustang Fastback into the rugged parking lot of Red Cap, easing the car around the chug holes that Annie, the owner, was never going to fill. It added to the charm, she said. Fine. He’d just have to be extra careful with his baby girl. His Midnight Pearl namesake. His Hot Rod.
“Rodney. Rodney?”
“Yeah, ma.” He eased the car into the first empty spot and pushed the gearshift into park.
Shit. He couldn’t believe the stunt he’d pulled at work. He fell asleep thinking about that vixen. About her name. And… other things. And he’d awakened to a wide-eyed Tabatha shaking him, her hand clamped over his mouth.
When the show was over, she ran it back for him to listen. And yeah. Fuck him real good. He’d moaned Seraphina’s name no fewer than three times. Moaned it like she was licking him up and down and rubbing her sweet body all over him.
Because she had been.
In the spectacular fucking dream he’d been having. On air. For all to hear.
Good thing the ratings were through the roof or he’d probably be fired.
Fuck.
“Who is Seraphina?”
Rod turned the car off, ignoring his mom’s question. If she saw his eyes, she’d know too much. She always knew too much. He had to hide a lot just so she never felt guilty for what he’d given up.
He never wanted her feeling guilty. Not ever.
“You want your normal today? I’ll order it to-go so we can get on the road. Don’t want to be late for Doc Savage. Hm?”
When she didn’t answer and the silence got weird, he glanced over.
Big mistake.
Her tired eyes grew wide, transforming into a smile. And somehow it made her entire face look ten years younger. His mom was a pretty thing, but the years hadn’t been kind to her. The disease dulled the shine of her cropped brunette hair, and stole her eyebrows so she felt she needed to draw them on with makeup. But now she resembled her old self. The hardass, hard working, hard loving mama who’d raised him on her own.
Damn, he loved her.
“She’s real, ain’t she? You found you a real woman.” The excitement in her voice was like a knife to his chest. “Well, it’s about time, son. Oh, I can’t wait to meet her. We could ask her over for dinner! I could make the fried chicken. Everyone loves my fried chicken. You know, old Waldo said it was better than Annie’s. He said that, the other day. Can you believe it? He maybe was just kissing my ass, but still. I bet your Seraphina would like my fried chicken. And mashed potatoes. We’ll have to get the good ones from the farmer’s market. They make all the difference. Waldo says he can’t tell, but I can. Biiiiiig difference.”
Aw, shit. He was going to have to set her straight.
“No, ma. It’s not what you think. She’s not—”
But his words dried up as he spotted the object of their conversation swishing her hips in that way, as she crossed the parking lot to the Red Cap entrance.
He swallowed hard.
“What? What is it?”
He tried to pull his gaze away from the vixen, he did. But she was so damn pretty with the sun shining on her hair where it was piled on her head. Big sunglasses covered her eyes, but his imagination was fine. And she wore some kind of thin pale pants he’d never seen her in before with a navy blouse that hugged her curves and showed off her delicate shoulders. Shit, she looked like she belonged on a movie set, not a dirt track.
But he knew she liked to get dirty, no matter how fancy she dressed.
“Is that her?” his mom murmured, sounding almost disappointed. “Wow, son. She… she is fancy. Maybe I shouldn’t do the chicken? Let’s see… I could make pasta. Something lemony and light. And asparagus. That’s a fancy side dish, right?”
“Chicken’s fine, ma,” he said absently. “She dirt races. She’s not so fancy.”
“You sure? She looks it.”
The spell Seraphina had on them both broke when she walked into Red Cap and the door closed behind her.
“Yeah, it doesn’t matter,” Rod said, clearing his throat to make his voice stronger. “She’s not coming over for dinner.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because I’m not asking her to.”
“But… you like her.”
He yanked off his ballcap and ran a frustrated hand through his hair before replacing it. Backward.
He grunted out an answer that was neither yes or no.
“Are you embarrassed?”
His gaze snapped to her. “Embarrassed of what?”
She shrugged, looking out the window toward the bar and grill. “Of not having a place all your own. Of… me. Our situation. All of it.”
He let out a weary sigh. “No, ma.”
“It makes it hard to have a meaningful relationship, I know. Difficult to have things of your own. A life of your own. I wish things were different.”
Shit. Her words were choking him.
Not because he disagreed. But because they were true.
And he couldn’t tell her otherwise, because he wouldn’t lie to her.
And that meant she would take all this on as her fault.
And it was, even if it wasn’t. She hadn’t chosen sickness. Sickness chose her.
He stared at his grip on the steering wheel. His knuckles were white and he pried them loose, only to fist them against the side window.
“Chicken sandwich and fries?” he asked. “Or do you want the onion rings this time?”
She didn’t answer and the silence bled between them again. But he wasn’t looking over no matter how awkward it got.
“I think I’ll go in with you today.”
Never mind. He looked.
“Why?”
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, and reached for the door handle. “Just feel like stretching my legs before the long drive.”
She was already out of the car and shuffling toward Red Cap by the time his mind wrapped around what she’d said. She didn’t want to stretch her legs. She was up to something.
He followed her inside, his eyes wandering as she stopped to say hello to people she knew. It took him approximately three seconds to realize no one could meet him in the eye, and even fewer to catch some of them staring when he’d look away.
So they’d caught the show. Cool.
He caught Annie smirking at him from the bar and rolled his eyes. She wasn’t only the owner of Red Cap and his boy Aaron’s twin sister, she was also mated to one of the Dirt Track Dogs. The bite mark that peaked out from the collar of her shirt proved it. Her mate went by Blister because his face was scarred to hell from a fire he’d survived when he was young. He was quiet and gruff and pretty much didn’t enjoy people-ing like Annie did. But the man loved her like a bunny loves humping.
It was an unexplainable, undeniable connection Rod had witnessed with all the shifters and their mates. And if he was honest… it made him envious as hell.
Yeah.
Like a magnet pulling him, his eyes found Seraphina leaning against the counter as she waited for her order. Probably lunch for her crew. He knew the hotel was slow mid-week, but the Vixens still worked hard trying to spiff the place up for Old Man Hubbard on their down time.
Her shoulders went stiff and she twisted to face him before he could look away.
Damn animal instincts. They made it hard for him to ever just sneak a peek.
But he didn’t have to worry about looking away because she did first. Quick too. It was almost funny.
Rod narrowed his eyes, taking her in. She wasn’t relaxed anymore, even though she was clearly trying to be. Her spine was rigid. She tapped her fingers nervously against the counter. Glanced at her phone. And was she redder than normal. Was she… blushing?
Awwww shit.
She’d caught the show too. Which meant she’d heard him moan her name. More than once. It was one thing for greater Cedar Valley to hear it. But a whole ‘nother thing for his vixen to hear it.
Shit. Shit on steaming pile of shit.
Oh, he’d fucked up. And he’d been prepared to catch hell from his boys. But he hadn’t expected to need to explain himself to the woman whose name he’d called while having a fuck dream on air. Nope. That one hadn’t crossed his fucking mind once.
He forced a swallow down his throat as he watched her. She was so uncomfortable, fidgeting and squirming, trying not to look his way. She was… embarrassed. And as he glanced around the place, he knew why. People were staring at her as much as they were him. The whole place was thick with tension while they waited for some cheap gossipy entertainment to unfold before them and make everyone’s lunch break worthwhile.
Shit. He’d never wanted to embarrass his vixen.
For the first time since leaving the station, the weight of his carelessness hit him. He couldn’t give two fucks if the listeners caught him moaning someone’s name in his sleep. But he cared like hell that Seraphina was embarrassed over it.
Aw, she was too good for him.
He was a rascally loser who couldn’t get his life together. And she was sweet and soft and would make the perfect little mate for some asshole one day.
His stomach heaved and he had to cough to keep from making a weird-ass gulping sound.
“Son? Rodney?”
He pulled his gaze away from Seraphina and focused on his mom. She looked concerned. Or confused. Or both.
“Yeah, ma?”
“Should we order.”
He nodded, and followed her over to the counter where she settled close to Seraphina.
Annie emerged from the back carrying several take-out boxes and passed them across the counter to the vixen. “That’s it,” she said, smiling. “You tell Old Man Hubbard he needs to lay off the mozzarella sticks, okay?” Annie paused. “Oh, crap. I forgot the mozzarella sticks. Hang on.” She rushed back through the doors leaving the three of them at the counter.
Seraphina shuffled on her feet, avoiding him like gum on a sidewalk. He’d never seen her like this. She was quiet, more reserved than the others. But she wasn’t standoffish.
“Annie forgets things sometimes,” his mom said, leaning into Seraphina’s space like they were old friends. “But it’s worth any wait for her cooking, you know. She’s got a way with food. Like she stirs love in every time.”
Seraphina smiled at his mom, and even seemed a touch relieved. “Agreed. Like she has a spoon made of love and just gives everything a little stir before she serves it.”
“A love spoon. Yeah, that’s what it’s like.”
Seraphina nodded. “I really like her chili. She puts it on the fries and melts cheese on top. Have you tried those?”
“Ohhhh.” Rod watched as his mom grinned wide. “Her chili fries? You betcha. Those are my secret weakness. Have you tried them with sour cream?”
Seraphina turned full on, and the two of them seemed to have forgotten he was even there. “No. I will next time.”
“You must. It will change your life.”
Seraphina’s eyes flicked to Rod and then to the floor. Well, shit. Why did he get rock hard at that simple submission? And why did he want to tell her to stop being so sexy?
“Hello, Rod.”
He sighed. He loved the soft way she said his name.
“I see you’ve met my mom.”
Her gaze lifted and her eyebrows arched into her forehead. “Your mom! Your mom. Oh. Wow. Hi, Mrs.… um, Turner?”
“Please, honey. I was never Mrs. Turner.”
Seraphina’s eyes went even wider.
“It’s Miss. Never married. Just call me Valerie. Or Val. Whichever you prefer. I’m easy like that.”
“O-Okay. Val then. It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Seraphina.” She held out her hand all dainty-like for a shake, and it was wrong on so many levels, but her manners made Rod grow even harder. He was going to be walking funny by the time they left the bar.
His mom shook it, giving her a smirk. “Oh, I know your name, honey.” She leaned in to whisper, “the whole county does now.”
Rod choked out a cough and reached over the counter for a bottle of water. He cracked it open and swigged before looking over at his vixen.
She’d gone red as a summer cherry.
“So…” his mom mused. “You like fried chicken?”
Seraphina nodded, looking like a deer in headlights.
“Mashed potatoes?”
Again she nodded, her pretty cheeks flaming.
“Perfect. How’s tomorrow evening, six o’clock sound?”
“Hmm?”
“Six o’clock. Dinner?”
“Uh…” Seraphina looked at him, and his brain kicked back into gear.
“No, ma. She’s uh… she’s busy.”
His mom frowned hard. “But she eats dinner, right?” She turned back to the vixen. “You do, right? Of course you do.” His mom didn’t know about the new supernatural world he was a part of now. But her question seemed to stump Seraphina.
“Yes, ma. Come on. She’s just got things to do. Friends and stuff. And work.”
“At six? Fine. What about seven?”
“Yes,” he bit out. “At seven too. And every other hour of the evening. She’s busy.”
“I’m not.”
He jerked his gaze to Seraphina. “Not what?”
Her chin lifted and she found his eyes, holding them for longer than she had since they’d walked in. “I’m not busy tomorrow evening.”
He tried to think of something to say. Some other excuse. But she turned to his mom with a smile that would knock his socks off if it didn’t carry the faintest hint of uncertainty. She might not be busy for dinner, but she’d been bullied into this by his charming little ma.
“I’d love to come for dinner,” Seraphina said. “Seven sounds great.”
“Perfect.” His mom met her smile with a satisfied gleam.
Annie hurried through the kitchen door with a new package, muttering apologies for the wait. Seraphina answered that it was no problem. She gave his mom another promise that she’d love to be there for dinner. And then she was walking away.
Without so much as a look his direction.
Fuck. That.
He watched her until she reached the door. Felt all the nosy sets of eyes on him. Knew they’d get a nice laugh at his expense if he followed her.
And he didn’t give two shits. Not even one.
Because he was burning up inside, something in his center churning and churning at the idea of letting her leave without a goodbye.
Yeah, shit.
He wasn’t about that.
Let them laugh.