Chapter Seven
“I’ll get some coffee. Or would you rather have tea this late?” Valerie eyed Seraphina until she wanted to squirm.
“Tea is fine,” she croaked.
But there was no judgment in the woman’s gaze. Instead, her eyes glinted with mischief as she tossed Rod a glance and scurried to the kitchen.
Seraphina scanned the place that was lit under a dim lamp. It was a sitting room with two small leather couches, dark wood side tables, and a solid colored rug over rustic wood flooring. The décor was plain and minimal, with only a few paintings of old looking cars to spruce up the soft gray walls. A clock made of teakwood ticked the hours away on the wall by the door.
“It’s the middle room,” Rod explained.
“The middle room?”
“It sits between the two parts of the house. Ma’s part, and my part. The west wing and the east wing, I like to say when I wanna be fancy.”
“You have separate spaces.”
Rod nodded, jamming his hands in his pockets and then staring down at his pants with a grimace. Seraphina saw the darkening spot on his jeans that told her she wasn’t the only one who’d gone too far in the car.
“Yeah,” he said distractedly. “When I had it built she insisted we each have our own space. So we share the middle room and the kitchen. The sides are our own. There’s a living room, bathroom, bedrooms. Two on her side three on mine.”
“Had to have my own place,” Valerie called from the kitchen. “What if I wanted to bring home a fella? Can’t have my son hearing all my naughty noises.”
Rod ran a palm down his face. “Ma, stop.”
“Now, Rodney, don’t take that tone with me. Your mother isn’t too old for a little bow-chicka-wowow.”
“Sweet Jesus.” His face turned crimson and he looked like he wanted to bolt for one of the side doors.
Seraphina liked seeing him like this. It was a totally different version of him. One that wasn’t so unapproachable. Not so flippant.
And also not so guarded.
“Give me five minutes,” he said to her. “Five minutes. Drink tea. Don’t go anywhere.”
She nodded, but he was already pushing through the door to the… west wing?
Valerie emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray with two copper cups and a small copper pot. The set looked old. It reminded Seraphina of the one Old Man Hubbard kept in the hotel office. She’d never seen him use it, but he kept it dusted off like it was important.
“Oh, good,” she huffed. “He’s gone. Now we can talk without him interfering. Sit, sit why don’tcha.”
Seraphina sank into a seat too fast to be considered polite, but when your man’s mom catches you being naughty in the front yard, and she tells you to sit… you sit.
Valerie smirked and set the tray on the table between them before she poured hot water over the fragrant tea. “Hope normal old Lipton is okay. We don’t have the fancy stuff. Unless you like Chamomile? I have a box of it somewhere because I couldn’t finish it. The stuff tastes like flowers and ass probably. Can’t say for sure but that’s what I liken it to.”
Seraphina nodded. “I agree. Flowers and ass.”
Valerie raised an eyebrow.
“I mean, that’s my guess. Never tasted ass myself either.”
Valerie pressed her lips together, probably trying to keep in a laugh.
Oh, god. This was not going well.
“Relax, child,” she said, her eyes twinkling, and Seraphina took a deep breath, trying to find normal.
“I should say thank you for the dinner you sent over…” she rushed out, “But I didn’t get to eat any of it.”
Valerie frowned. “Why not?”
“Well, I was distracted and Surge kind of… took it.”
“That man. God love him, but he’s such an animal sometimes.”
Seraphina smiled at that truth.
“You know, I heard rumors that before he met his lady, he had relations with a houseplant. A fern. Can you believe that? I mean, I don’t know how that works exactly but that fella on that one movie got pretty freaky with an apple pie, so where there’s a will there’s a way, I suppose.”
“Uh…”
“And besides, I was going to say thanks to you actually.”
“To me?”
“Sure.”
“For what?”
Valerie stirred some honey in her tea and then offered the little plastic honey bear to Seraphina.
“It’s been a long time since my son was interested in anything besides his next drink. But you are changing that.”
Seraphina busied herself with the tea. Because Rod’s mother had it all wrong. He pushed her away at every turn.
“He’s a good man, that one. I’m not just saying that because he’s my boy. He really is good. Takes good care of me. Brings me to every doctor appointment, and there are lots of ‘em. He’s selfless, but he’s lost. This is the first night in a long time he didn’t come home with alcohol on his breath and ghosts in his eyes. So for that, Seraphina, thank you.”
Seraphina sipped her tea before answering.
“I can’t take credit for that. He was distracted tonight is all. Trying to keep me out of trouble.”
Valerie frowned. “What kind of trouble could you possibly be in? You, so prim and proper. Well, except for what I saw in the car a few minutes ago. Come to think of it, maybe that’s all put on. Like your lipstick. Which is smudged by the way. Here.” She flicked a tissue from the nearby box and passed it over.
Seraphina flushed red as she took the tissue and wiped at her lips. She really needed to invest in some of that smudge proof stuff people sold online these days. In case she ever wanted to make out in a car again and accidentally set off the horn.
Wait, no.
That was never happening again.
“I try to be good,” she defended. “But I don’t think that keeps trouble away, does it?”
Valerie raised one wise eyebrow. “Agreed. Trouble gonna come no matter what. Learned that a long time ago myself. So, what is your particular brand of trouble?”
“A male,” Seraphina muttered.
“Oh, sure. All trouble starts with a man. But I need details, honey.”
Seraphina eyed the woman. There was something about her. She was funny and smart, but had that edge that told Sera she could and would cut a bitch if necessary. She was hard, but not hardened. And something made Seraphina want to bury her face in the woman’s shoulder and cry out all her troubles big and small. She had a feeling Valerie would iron it all out to simplicity with a few no-nonsense phrases and dry her tears with flippant humor. Make the big things seem like small things. Make the hard things seem standard.
Rod’s mother was amazing. No wonder he was so protective of her.
Seraphina buried her face in her hands instead, and let the words tumble out.
“A man from my past is here looking for me. He thinks I’m his. We were promised to each other when we were young, but I don’t want that life anymore. I want to make my own life. Do things my way. With a person who cares for me the way I care for him. A life where there is mutual respect and we each belong to the other. Is that so much to ask for?”
“An arranged marriage?”
“Of a sort.”
“I didn’t think people did that shit anymore.”
“My people do. And now Maxim—”
“Maxim? What the hell kind of name is Maxim. Is he a model? Flowing hair and dopey dead eyes?”
“Yes to the hair, no to the rest. But now he’s here for me, and I don’t want him. I want…” She let her voice drop to nearly nothing. “Someone else.”
It was quiet for more moments than it should have been.
“Someone else, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Someone with dimples, a smooth radio voice, and owns a car with a loud horn?”
Seraphina let out a sad laugh. “Yes.”
“Well, I say do what you want. Life’s too short for regrets and missed chances. Forget this Maxim guy and his flowing locks, and go for the one that wears the ballcap if he’s the one that can make you happy. I’m partial to him anyway.”
Seraphina lifted her eyes to stare at the woman. Oh, her choice was already made. But it took two to make a mate go right.
“It’s not that simple. My choice doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does.”
“Not if…” Not if Rod wouldn’t claim her. Not if her vixen chose for her, and the submissive animal would eventually.
Valerie sipped her tea while Seraphina’s sentence hung in the air.
“Do you care for him?”
“Which him?”
“Maxim the male model.”
“No. No I don’t.”
“Mm hm.” She nodded. Drank more tea. Said nothing else.
“Aren’t you going to ask me about the other him?”
“Nope.”
Seraphina frowned. “Why not?”
Valerie smiled a knowing grin. “Because I already know the answer to that one, and I don’t waste time asking questions I already have answers for.” She paused. “And because he’s standing right behind you.”
Seraphina jerked her gaze around to find Rod standing in the doorway to the west wing. He was shirtless, with a towel looped around his neck, hair glistening from his shower. Small droplets fell from his locks to land on his chest and slide down to his abs.
Seraphina gulped.
His eyes were on her, but they gave nothing away. How much had he heard?
“So I guess what you’re telling me,” Valerie mused, “is that you haven’t eaten tonight?”
“No, she hasn’t,” Rod answered, not taking his eyes off Seraphina.
“Well it’s a good thing we had so many leftovers then, isn’t it.” She rose from her chair a little unsteady, but with her jaw set in a way that said she wouldn’t let anyone notice. “I’ll warm some up for you while you get settled.”
Settled. Ha. Right.
“Come on.” Rod jerked his head for Seraphina to follow, and then disappeared down the hall.
She set her tea on the table and scrambled after him.
The hallway was short, opening up into a living room decked out in puffy looking dark leather couches and a TV the size of a small state. Maybe Rhode Island or something.
There were shelves with books—no, manuals—and a few grainy pictures in simple wooden frames. There was a shiny trophy on one shelf, a tiny golden microphone, but she was too far away to read what the award was for. She could almost make out the words Clinton County. But other than the television, the room held no luxury.
It was homey, in the way she expected Rod’s place to be. And excitement grew in her middle as her vixen took in the place with curiosity and satisfaction. This was where he relaxed. Where he spent lazy Sunday mornings. Where all his guards came down.
Like they had for a few moments in time when they were together in the car.
Rod stopped in the center of the room. “Through there is the main bathroom, and down that way are the two spare rooms. One is full of boxed up junk from high school and shit, the other has a bed. But I’ll take it and you can have the good one in my room.”
“Uh… well… I don’t want to put you out.”
“You’ll take my bed.” His tone was deep enough to make her skin break out with chills, and commanding enough that her breath came faster. It left no room for argument, and set her at ease like she hadn’t been in a very, very long time.
This is where I belong.
The vixen purred her approval.
“Yes, sir.”
Rod’s eyes burned hot and his nostrils flared. She licked her lips. Not because she was even trying to be sexy. But because her mouth was going dry from the way he looked at her. His gaze flicked to her mouth anyway, and he had to be recalling their kiss. The fact that he was shirtless was a blaring reminder of what they’d done in the car.
But then… remembering his reaction afterward had her mellowing out hard. More effective than any cold shower.
Speaking of a shower, she needed one.
“I left my clothes in Surge’s truck.”
Rod had dragged her away before she could even mention the bag she’d tossed in the bed of the wolf’s vehicle.
“You can wear mine. Come on, I’ll show you.”
She followed him around the corner and through a set of double doors that opened into the master bedroom. The bed was the first thing her eyes landed on, and she could hardly look away to see the rest of the room. Rumpled black sheets and like, twelve fluffy pillows covered the thing. A puffy gray duvet was piled at the end like an afterthought.
The fox in her wanted to run and jump right in the middle of it. Burrow under all those pillows and roll around in the comfort. It was two pillows max at Old Man Hubbard’s. But this was sort of… luxurious.
The female in her wanted to be taken there, hot and hard, by him. More of what they’d felt in the car. But sweatier. Dirtier. Faster. The idea twisted her stomach into delicious knots as what she wanted played out in her mind.
Until Rod cleared his throat.
That was when she finally took in the room. It was simple like the rest of the house. A heavy dark wooden dresser and side tables. A lounge chair in the corner. A smaller television mounted on the wall. A closet to the left. Some socks on the floor and bright orange Converse tossed in the corner, but otherwise clean and tidy. Tidier than she ever imagined Rod Turner’s bedroom to be.
Every second she spent learning him was a surprise to her.
“Here,” he said, shoving a pile of folded clothes at her. “They won’t fit you, but they’ll do for tonight. We’ll grab your stuff from Surge tomorrow.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Sure.” He jabbed his hands in his back pockets, swallowing hard enough her gaze caught on his throat. “The bathroom’s through there. The shower knob is a little finicky. Let me know if you need help.”
Sure. Like, what was she going to do? Ask him to come in there and fix it for her while she stood naked under the water?
Then again, maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. She’d never been one for seduction. That was Sally’s department. But if it worked…
Except, she couldn’t take anymore of his denial right now. Not tonight. And he’d heard too much earlier. Knew how she felt about him. So every time he looked at her like nothing mattered, it hurt even more.
No, she’d handle the shower on her own. And if she couldn’t make it work she’d climb in the sink for a mini-bath or something.
How was that for problem solving.
She pushed past him to the bathroom, and closed the door without looking to see if he stuck around.