“Chance!”

If Chance had been the typical sort who got nervous meeting new people, especially the family of the woman he was dating, that smile would have melted his fears away.

As it was, it created enough heat to stir something else in him. Something that probably wasn’t quite appropriate for meeting-the-parents.

“Juliet,” He replied, taking in the refreshing sight of her once again. He had a bottle of wine and a nice looking bouquet of tulips with him, in consideration of the occasion.

Juliet was wearing an extraordinarily feminine dress that had swishy skirts and off the shoulder ruffles, with just two tiny straps holding it up over her shoulders, which glittered as though they had been dusted with gold. The nails showing in her strappy sandals matched those on her fingers, which were now a soft pink to match the color of that dress. Her hair was down past her shoulders with waves that had a Veronica Lake vibe about them.

Sexy as hell.

Chance had upshifted his attire to a white dress shirt and crisp, black jeans over a pair of black cowboy boots. He’d done something with his hair that actually required the use of a comb through wet hair, making it seem somewhat “done.” Based on the looks of the pre-teen girl staring at him open-mouthed and the two women—who couldn’t be anyone other than Juliet’s sisters, despite the sharp contrast with her in terms of style—standing a few feet behind Juliet, the ensemble was working.

The one behind her wearing a sleeveless, flowing tunic dress in some exotic pattern came up to greet him.

“Don’t just leave him standing there in the doorway, Juliet,” she admonished before turning to him with a smile that was almost as impressive as Juliet’s. She took the bottle from him as she greeted him. “You must be Juliet’s new beau. I’m Beatrice.”

Beau? Chance let it quickly roll around in his head and decided he was happy with the label.

“Guilty as charged,” he said, shaking her offered hand and giving her his most flirtatious grin. He could practically see her heart go pitter-pat. Chip wasn’t the only one with the McCoy charm. Chance knew a thing or two about winning people over when necessary.

“So you’re the poker-playing oil rig worker huh?” the other sister said approaching him. She hooked her thumbs into her overalls and rolled on the balls of her feet with a smile that seemed eagerly amused.

Chance raised an eyebrow at Juliet.

“I told them about you.”

“But not mom and dad,” the one with the red mohawk said, almost gleefully.

“Viola,” said Juliet with an irritated glance at her sister.

“What? It’s about time that someone other than Viola the supreme disappointment rattled their nerves a bit.” She said it in such an exaggerated, eye-rolling way that Chance could see she didn’t take it too seriously.

“Perhaps if you hadn’t named your band Pacific Foreplay, then they would be a little more impressed with you,” the other sister said.

“Oh please, Bea. Don’t act like you aren’t just a teeny bit excited to see our little talented tenth here play her own starring role in Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner.”

That one certainly put things in perspective.

“Why don’t we get you a beer and some ribs?” Juliet interjected, taking his arm and casting a tight-lipped, hard stare at her sisters as she led him away.

“Welcome to the Dumas family,” she said with a sigh.

Chance just laughed. He knew a thing or two about family dynamics.

* * *

The house was a pretty decent size, which was good since there were so many people in attendance. Apparently the elder Dumases were very popular.

The ribs were amazing. Chance had met the cook, Beatrice’s husband and had been slightly surprised to find Sam was also white, albeit in a much more bland sort of way than Chance. The kind that was probably much more palatable to parents in general.

Chance had yet to meet Juliet’s, and he had an inkling that she was delaying it as long as possible. It didn’t bother him since he had a thick skin. Based on the interaction with her sisters, there was bound to be a bit of drama involved.

“Why did Beatrice call you the talented tenth?”

Juliet was holding a very large barbecue sauce-slathered rib. It was amusingly incongruous with the rest of her frilly get-up, especially with the way she held it: two dainty hands; pink fingernails; pinky fingers pointed out.

“Hmm?” she hummed raising her eyebrows at him. Then she gave a short laugh before rolling her eyes. “W. E. B. Du Bois.”

The name lit a familiar spark at the back of his mind.

“My dad is real big on black people doing better. The long and short of it is that one in ten of us has to be the guiding light to lead the rest, and all that jazz.”

“And that burden is on you?” he asked with a teasing smile.

“Well, Beatrice is a stay at home mom, the horror! It didn’t help that she dropped out of med school to do it. And Viola is…well, Viola,” she raised her eyes knowingly at him.

Chance gave a light laugh.

“So yes, I’m officially the golden child meant to pick up the torch and lead the way,” she said loftily. “Can’t have all the Dumas girls going to waste.”

“Juliet, there you are!”

Her eyes went wide as the baritone voice rang out through the crowd.

“Prepare yourself,” she said quickly before setting her rib down and wiping her hands fastidiously. She turned around to meet the man behind that voice.

Chance watched him make his way through the crowd. He was tall and had a few features that were similar to Juliet, mostly the nose and slightly jutting chin. He wore glasses and had a bookish look about him that bordered on geeky, and not in the cool way that was so popular these days. He wore a pink polo shirt tucked into a pair of khaki shorts all matched with a pair of boat shoes. Very backyard-barbecue-in-the-suburbs. He was practically dragging another, younger man in his early thirties along with him.

“Oh, I see you’ve brought someone to our anniversary party,” he said. Chance read every bit of the subtext that was meant to be read in that one sentence.

“Yes Dad,” Juliet said, casting a wary glance at the man standing next to him, who was beginning to look anything but pleased about being in the middle of what was obviously about to go down. “This is Chance, my date.”

She turned to Chance. “Chance, this is Thomas Dumas, my father.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Chance said, rising up respectfully and reaching out the hand that he had wiped in anticipation of this.

“Hmm,” Thomas said, eyeing him up and down and giving him a firm grip that left any hint of geekiness behind. Chance could see the cunning assessment in those eyes.

“Chance,” he said, offering his hand to the man beside Thomas once he let go.

“Ah-uh, David,” the man said, reaching out a hand to shake his with a surprised look on his face. He was handsome enough in a Don Cheadle sort of way, but it was obvious to both of them that he was being used as some sort of pawn. A measuring stick by which to judge Juliet’s new friend.

“Ah yes,” Thomas interjected, putting his hand on David’s shoulder and deftly turning him towards Juliet. “Now, Juliet, I know you’ve already chosen a topic to work on during your sabbatical, but I really think you should consider doing something political when you are done with that, just to secure that tenure. Nothing too heavy obviously, especially in this charged climate. But politics are sexy, and statistics are a hot topic. You saw what happened with the presidential election. This here is David Finley. He works as—”

“Happy anniversary Dad,” Juliet said in a placating tone that had the tiniest patronizing edge to it. “Maybe we could just enjoy your special day. After all it’s not every couple that lasts 36 years. I have a whole semester to focus on my sabbatical topic.”

Thomas looked at Juliet, somewhat flustered, then sighed, letting a smile come to his face. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Poor David looked as though he was caught on the beaches of Normandy during D-Day. He looked back and forth between Chance, Juliet, and Thomas with an expression that indicated he might very well have preferred being stuck between the Germans and the Allied Forces.

“It was very nice to have met you David Finley,” Juliet said by way of excusing him. He gave her a brief grateful smile and managed to disentangle himself from her dad’s clutches.

Thomas watched him go with consternation then turned his eyes to Chance with a not-so-subtle accusatory squint to them. “And just what do you do for a living, young man?”

“Dad,” Juliet protested.

“Sort of a Jack of all trades,” Chance said, then hit him with the hammer. “Right now I work on an oil rig.”

Chance watched Juliet bite back a smile while her father’s eyes nearly goggled out of their sockets.

“But my real profession, if you can call it that, is playing poker.”

That created a subtle, though no less horrified change in Thomas’ expression. The look of horror shifted to one of suspicion. Obviously, poker was no better in Thomas’ book than work on an oil rig.

If Chance had been embarrassed about either career, that look would have bothered him. But he was secure enough in his situation in life that he certainly didn’t need the approval of Thomas Dumas, even if only for Juliet’s sake.

“Tom, you aren’t pestering Juliet about her sabbatical are you?”

The voice was feminine with a rich, musical lilt to it, coming deep from the diaphragm. It was like every word out of the woman’s mouth was a gospel song.

Chance looked in the direction of a woman who was definitely Juliet’s mother, as she approach them.

So that’s where that smile comes from.

Juliet’s mother was much more comfortable in her features than her daughter, with the same slightly tilted eyes and that full, wide mouth her daughters all sported, Juliet most prominently.

Chance wasn’t above taking a subtle, inconspicuous glance up and down her body. What he saw boded well for Juliet. She was older but trim, wearing a long gypsy skirt and a silk, sleeveless top that showed off the same perfect shoulders that had drawn him to her daughter. She wore heavy earrings and bangles on her wrists. Her hair was cut short in tiny little tight curls which suited her face beautifully.

Unlike with Juliet’s dad, Chance felt an instant connection with her. The woman had a sophisticated warmth about her that drew everyone in.

“Young man,” she said, looking up at Chance with a conspiratorial smile. “Has my husband been torturing you?”

The woman pursed her lips at her husband before turning back to Chance with a smile that could melt lead. “I’m Monet, Monet Dumas,” she said holding a hand out to him. “I see you’re here with my daughter?”

He took the hand and noted the assured grip, which lacked any hint of an agenda. The smile on her face was easy, without any tightness around the lips. The eyes were curious and wide, searching rather than scrutinizing. The shoulders were relaxed. Everything about the woman was genuine and she obviously had a better first impression of Chance than her husband did.

“Chance, Chance McCoy.”

“He works on an oil rig,” Thomas pointed out, his body language practically beating Chance over the head with: CLOSED FOR BUSINESS.

“Is that so?” Monet asked, the eyes opening even wider in surprise, none of it negative, which was a surprise to Chance. He’d been expecting the worst.

“For now,” Chance corrected. “Actually I play poker for a living.”

“Well, this one sounds fascinating,” she said eyeing him up and down in a way that was almost impressed. She turned to her daughter, “Much more so than your usual type.”

“Monet!” Thomas criticized, pressing his lips firmly together as he shot a very pointed look toward his wife.

“Oh Thomas,” she breathed with a lyrical laugh. She patted him playfully on the chest, which had the magical effect of softening that hard look. Chance didn’t need to be a genius to figure out why. He personally would have loved one of those playful slaps.

“It’s our anniversary. Love is in the air,” Monet said, waving her hands in the air with flickering fingers, “and based on the way our daughter is looking at this young man, it certainly seems to be catching.”

“Mom!” Juliet exclaimed.

Monet just laughed in a mesmerizing way, which put even her daughter at ease. Then she easily slinked her arm around her husband’s.

“Now I’m going to steal my handsome husband from you two and leave you to enjoy the rest of your ribs. It’s good seeing you sweetheart,” she said to Juliet. Then she slid her eyes, which had an amused but knowing looking in them, to Chance, “And very nice to meet you Chance.”

“Very nice to meet you Mrs. Dumas. And happy anniversary to you both.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, as easily as if she’d known him for ten years instead of ten minutes.

“Happy anniversary, Mom,” Juliet added.

“Thank you, honey.”

The two of them watched the couple walk off, and Chance sat down.

“Again, welcome to the Dumases.”

“I like her.”

“Everyone likes her,” Juliet said with a laugh.

“He’s alright too. I get wanting to look out for your daughter’s welfare.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it, he cares about reputation and reputation only.”

“No, he honestly wants the best for you,” Chance said, giving her a considering look. “I can respect that. At least your mother seems to have a good impression of me.”

Juliet just shrugged, then darted her eyes away as though remembering her mother’s words.

Chance decided to tease her. “Love is in the air…everywhere I look around,” he crooned.

Juliet’s eyes darted up to his almost fearfully. Then she broke out in that smile, before laughing out loud.

“Love is in the air, in the whisper of the trees…”

“Stop it,” she laughed, grabbing a balled up napkin and throwing it at him.

Chance just laughed, enjoying the relaxed look on her face and in her shoulders. If it wasn’t love, it was certainly something utterly enjoyable that was in the air around them.