Chapter Fifteen
Matt waited until Pippa shut the door behind her before he put the car in gear and drove away. He hadn’t wanted to let her go home. The idea of keeping her wormed into his brain and got stuck. And then freaked him the hell out.
Not ten minutes after he’d made love to Pippa, he wanted to start all over again. The itch inside him to get deeper under her skin, to unravel the mystery of her kept growing.
Instead, he did the cuddling thing, and that ramped the twitch into a burn. Pippa had felt right in his arms. Tucked up to his side, her head in the crook of his neck, it felt peaceful, and like she belonged there.
This was not how he rolled. He liked a woman, and he pursued her. If she was on board with the idea, they hooked up—once, twice, however many times it took to work her through his system. The nagging pinch in his gut tightened. How many times would it take to get Pippa out of his system? Pippa had always been different. She had this siren’s call for him, drawing him closer every time she drifted into his life again.
He pulled up to the front of his house and climbed out of the car. Eric might have called it right at the site. Keeping things light with Pippa wasn’t going to work out for him at all. Maybe some part of him had always known that.
The debris from their carpet picnic still spread across his lounge. He grabbed up plates and glasses and carried them through to the kitchen. Pippa had left his sweats and T-shirt neatly folded over the back of the couch. The subtle fragrance of her still clung to the fabric and he pressed the shirt against his nose. The woman smelled like sin and heaven all in one massive wallop.
* * *
Pippa shut the door and blinked in the harsh light of the hallway chandelier. It looked like Phi had every light in the house turned on. “Phi?”
A crash pulled her to the salon at a run.
“Phi.” Her grandmother stood in the center of the room in an emerald velvet housecoat. Not a hint of makeup on her face, bird’s nest hair squatting on her head. “What happened?”
“I threw it.” Phi’s voice shook, and not vibrato. Whatever was going on here was beyond theatrics.
Pippa followed her pointing finger to the smashed remains of a Wedgwood shepherdess. “Why?”
“I want my stuff back.” Tears seeped out of Phi’s hot, angry eyes. “You didn’t tell me about all the things they’ve taken.”
No, she hadn’t. Pippa had kept that her little secret and it seemed Phi had found out. “I didn’t want to upset you.”
“You treated me like a child.” Phi swiped at her tears. “Like a doddering old woman not worthy of your respect.”
“No, Phi, I tried to protect you.”
Phi vibrated like a tuning fork. “Protect me? Me?” She ended on a shriek. Phi protected her vocal chords like a broody Rottweiler. Shrieking meant she was way past upset. “I have faced down a packed opera house hissing at my performance of Carmen. I have made conductors weep the world over. Hardened stagehands get the hell out of my way. Whom do you think you’re protecting? Some limp-minded old woman?”
“I . . .” She’d treated Phi like she couldn’t handle the truth. “You’re right. I should have told you. I kept thinking I might find them somewhere here, or they might reappear and then this would all go away.”
“Did you take it upon yourself to decide I had imagined the entire thing?”
“Yes.”
“That at my advanced age, I had misplaced them?”
It sounded a lot better in her head than it did coming out of Phi’s mouth. Yes to all that and Pippa nodded.
“Let me tell you something.” Phi jammed her hands on her hips. “I remember the words and the music to every opera I have ever sung. I can still name the cast members of every performance I gave, and some of the crew. And yet my granddaughter, my precious flesh and blood, took it upon herself to cosset me like an aged dog.”
The Diva poked through Phi’s tirade and Pippa breathed a sigh of relief.
“I am a mere sixty-eight years old, need I remind you. And a robust sixty-eight at that.”
“Phi, you’re seventy-eight and we both know it.”
Phi fluttered both hands at her. “Age is merely a number, it’s how I feel that counts.”
“I’m sorry, Phi.” Pippa took a step closer. “I should have told you, and I should never have thought you might be losing your marbles.”
Phi’s shoulders inched away from her earlobes. “I am wroth with you, Agrippina, but I shall forgive you.”
Pippa stepped into Phi’s open arms. “I really am sorry.”
“What we have is special, Pippa,” Phi whispered against her hair. “I have always been honest with you, and I demand the same from you.”
It was true. Phi told the unpretty truth whenever it needed telling.
“My daughter does not understand me,” Phi said. “She blames me for so many things. Some of them justified, and some of them merely her own unhappiness. But you?” Phi held her at arm’s length for a second. “You and I were soul mates from the moment you came into the world. Do not fuck with that, Agrippina.”
“I won’t.” Phi’s love was her anchor, always had been. The unconditional acceptance of who and what she was, from a woman who spent her life flipping the bird at others’ opinion of her. There weren’t many people who had it this good. Pippa tightened her hold.
“Now.” Phi disentangled herself from Pippa’s embrace. “Was Mathieu a multiplatinum artist or a one-hit wonder?”