by RC Boldt
I glance down at myself, clad in a robe with a bra and panties beneath it. If it were anyone else, I’d never answer the door like this. But it’s Dax, and since he doesn’t give a second glance to women like me, with my body type or skin color, I’m basically sexless to him. Not to mention, I’m his matchmaker.
Trudging to the door, I unlock and open it about four inches in a white-knuckled death grip.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” From the small margin of space, he looks like his usual put-together, handsome self in an Under Armour—shocker there, since he’s one of their current models and endorsers—polo shirt in a dark green color that offsets his eyes, along with a pair of khaki shorts and a pair of leather flip-flops. “Planning to open the door a bit wider so you can at least eke through?” His eyes dance as though I’m amusing him. Yep. No doubt about it now. He’s laughing at me.
I release a long sigh and avert my eyes. “Look, Dax. I’m not—”
“Darcy,” he interrupts softly. He falls silent for so long I find myself compelled to meet his eyes. When I do, I discover his eyes locked on me with concern. “Why don’t you let me in for a minute?”
Something in his tone and the subdued, gentle way he poses the question has me stepping back and releasing my death grip on the door. Without a word, he slips inside and closes it behind him.
His gaze roves over me from head to toe, and one corner of his mouth hitches upward. “That’s definitely an interesting outfit. I must admit, it’s not exactly what I expected you to wear to meet my parents. But”—he waves a hand nonchalantly—“I’m sure you’ll be a hit with my dad.” He breaks into a wide grin.
I shove him. “Stop it.” I let out a groan. “I can’t go. I mean…” With a wince, the words pour out of me, rushing past my lips in a rapid-fire soft whisper. “Confession: I don’t have anything that’s good enough.”
His expression softens. “You always look great in whatever you wear.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re my—” I cut myself short, eyes widening in shocked surprise.
One eyebrow quirks upward, and a smirk plays on his lips. “Because I’m your…?” He leans closer, and I take a step back only to realize I’m against the wall. He reaches out and rests one large palm alongside my head. With a slight dip of his head, he locks eyes with me. “Go ahead. Say it, Darcy.”
Jesus. What’s with the low, gravelly voice that sounds like he should be spouting off dirty talk and commanding me—er, a woman—to take off her panties? Yikes.
“You’re my friend.” Why am I suddenly breathless?
“That’s right.” His mouth stretches into a wide toothy smile, looking pleased. “We’re friends, Cole. Now, go get dressed.” He slaps the side of my hip playfully, eliciting a tiny yelp from me.
“Hey!” I scowl at him and rub my flesh gingerly. “I’m not one of your teammates made of nothing but muscle, buddy.” But wonders shall never cease because I find myself ambling down the hall to my bedroom.
Once I enter the room and am faced once again with the multitude of outfits I’ve deemed as subpar, I can’t restrain a groan.
“What’s the problem?”
I jump, startled at the man who’s apparently at ease in taking a stroll and entering a woman’s bedroom without permission. Before I can reprimand him, he swiftly plucks a simple blue blouse from the discarded pile on my bed, then grabs a pair of beige shorts neatly clipped to a hanger in my open closet and shoves both at me.
“Put these on. I’ll wait for you in the living room.”
I glance at the clothes in my arms and give him a sardonic look. “What? You’re not going to help me put the clothes on, too?”
He smirks. “Nope. My job is normally taking clothes off women.”
I narrow my eyes and swat at his arm. “Get out, smartass.”
His laughter carries down the hallway in his wake, and I give up fighting a smile as I dress.
Conversation is easy, like usual, on the drive up to where Dax’s parents live in Yulee. It’s not a long drive since it’s mainly interstate, but the rain has slowed traffic, and we encountered some accidents since people here lose their minds when it rains. I swear, they suddenly act as if they’ve never experienced rainy conditions before. It’s ridiculous.
Finally, Dax approaches a one-story stucco home I immediately know belongs to his parents. Signs in the shape of a football or a jersey with his number on them adorn the front yard.
When he parks in the driveway and doesn’t immediately turn off the ignition, I glance at him in question. He doesn’t look at me. Instead, his attention remains on the humble home.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he murmurs before darting a glance at me.
“Do you?”
His mouth quirks upward. “You’re panicked about meeting my family.”
I part my lips to deny it because I don’t want him to think I’m being rude or weird. It’s because I actually care about meeting his family. I want them to like me simply because they’re an extension of Dax.
Well, that and also because I’ve never gotten this far when I’ve dated a guy, which is equal parts depressing and embarrassing to admit it. I guess most guys balk at the thought of introducing a woman who’s never experienced a family of her own to his own family. And the two times in my life I’d been delusional enough to divulge my past? Well, that snuffed out my chances of ever having a meet-the-parents moment.
It’d snuffed out the relationship, too.
I’ve never been good enough to bring home to the parents, and I’m okay with that. I get it. I’m not your typical woman. But I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t sting a little.
Even though Dax isn’t bringing me home as his girlfriend to meet his family, I desperately want to make sure I don’t screw this up. I don’t want to embarrass him. More than that, I want to prove to myself that maybe, just maybe, normal parents could possibly like me.
A strong, firm hand reaches for the one I have settled on my lap. Long, slightly callused fingers link through mine. My attention is riveted on the way his fingers appear so strong. Capable. Comforting. How his skin contrasts to my paler one. He squeezes lightly.
“Come on. Time to meet my family.”
I raise my eyes from our joined hands. His gaze silently pleads with my uncertain one. I can’t bear to admit just how badly I hate relinquishing his hand to exit the truck.
He strides around the front of the vehicle to help me out and places his palm on my lower back, guiding me up the paved walkway to the front door. His hand is firm, and I’m certain it’s to keep me from giving in to my nervousness and turning around at the last second to sprint off and hitch a ride back to my place.
The front door swings open when we’re barely three steps away to reveal a short older woman. I instantly know it’s Dax’s mother. Without a doubt, he inherited her eyes and smile.
“Dax!” The way she exclaims this makes it seem he’s been on a long deployment with the military instead of seeing him last week, according to what he told me on the drive up. Eyes alight with excitement and affection, she moves forward with outstretched arms. He envelops her in a warm embrace, lifting her off the ground and eliciting laughter from her.
Once he sets her back on her feet, her eyes lock onto me.
I tense, panicked at intruding on their family time. Shit. Dax shouldn’t have invited me. I mean, after all, I’m just—
“Oof!” That’s all I can manage, because I’m squeezed nearly half to death by a woman who is shorter than me but who hugs like… Well, she hugs like it’s her job.
I can’t even recall the last time I was hugged like this. By a mom.
My heart stutters in my chest at how welcoming her embrace is. If a hug could translate into words, hers would say she gives love and acceptance freely. And, God, to be on the receiving end of it is the most incredible feeling in the world.
It’s been years since I’ve let myself wonder what it would be like to
have a real family. To have grown up with a mom and dad who loved and cared for me. Ones who didn’t just give me a place to sleep for a paycheck from the state.
In a matter of seconds, Mrs. Kendrick has cracked open that door I’ve kept locked up tight.
“I’m so happy to meet you, Darcy!” She steps back but maintains her grasp on my arms as if trying to commit my features to memory. “You’re beautiful!” Then she fixes a stern, accusing look on her son. “You didn’t tell me she was so beautiful.”
“You didn’t ask.” His eyes dance with amusement. “I brought Becket over, and you never accused me of not telling you he was handsome.”
She clicks her tongue at him and shakes her head, returning her attention to me. “That’s not the same, and you know it.” Her mouth stretches into that wide, happy smile just like her son. “Come inside, and I’ll introduce you to my husband.” She grasps my hand and takes Dax’s in her other, practically dragging us inside the house and herding us like small children.
His eyes lock with mine in a what can you do? kind of way. Then, with his mouth stretched in a wide grin, he winks, and I can’t help but smile back.
Not only am I grateful for Dax’s friendship, but I’ll always feel indebted to him for allowing me to experience this. To experience exactly what it’s like to be around a true family.
To be surrounded by love.
15
Dax
My family loves Darcy.
It makes me so damn happy—not that I had any doubts, of course, but I love that they’ve taken to her so quickly. I know she tries to hide it, but I’ve noticed that hint of yearning when I talk about my family. I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like to grow up without one, least of all being tossed around in the foster care system. She’s made herself into an incredible woman, though, and she should be proud of that.
Now, as I watch her with my mom and Violet in the kitchen, talking comfortably and laughing together around the kitchen table, it reinforces that this is what I want someday; a woman who’s at ease and can mesh with my family flawlessly.
“She seems like a wonderful young lady.”
My father’s quiet remark draws my attention to him. He and I have been watching SportsCenter in the living room, but the open doorway to the kitchen has repeatedly drawn my attention.
Wonderful is an understatement when it comes to Darcy, but something in his tone makes me uneasy. It’s why I answer carefully with a simple, “She is.”
“So she’s your… matchmaker?” The way he says it raises my hackles.
I bite back a sigh before I respond. “Yes.” Hopefully, I’m wrong about where his thoughts are leading.
He nods with a, “Hmm.” A beat of silence passes before he focuses his gaze on the women. “Why wouldn’t you just date her?”
I rear back. “I’d think that would be obvious.” It takes all my self-control to maintain an even tone. “She’s my matchmaker. And friend.” I emphasize that last word in an attempt to drive home my point.
He eyes me calmly. “Is there a reason you don’t want to date her?”
I stare at him and try to wipe my features clean of the what part of friends are you not getting? expression. “Dad,” I state with much more calmness than I currently feel. “We’re just friends. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh.”
I know that tone. It’s the same one he used when I swore to him I wasn’t doing anything with the girls in the back seat of my used Honda hatchback in high school. Of course, back then, he had a good reason not to believe me.
Now is different.
I heave out a sigh and focus on the TV, but the gales of laughter spilling from the kitchen prove distracting. I take it as a sign, anyway, since it’s getting late. We’ve visited for a few hours now, and as much as Darcy seems to be enjoying herself, I’m sure she’s exceeded her limit on Kendrick family exposure by now.
I rise from my seat on the couch. “I should get her home.”
Dad follows suit and hugs me. “Always great to see you.” He levels me with an indecipherable look. “Bring her back around anytime.”
I nod. “Will do.”
We saunter over to join the ladies in the kitchen. I tease, “Sounds like you’re having way too much fun in here.” I dart a glance at Darcy, and she has a wide, carefree smile on her face. It gives me pause because I realize I haven’t seen her smile like this in… well, ever.
Pride fills me that two of my favorite people have managed to put her at ease.
I sidle up beside her and grip the top wooden rung of her chair back. “Didn’t I tell you they were great?” I grin down at her.
Her eyes appear bluer, sparkling with happiness. “You did.”
“I just wish Ava could meet you,” my mom remarks with a wistful expression.
“Next time.” I say it before I even think about it. I’m not sure who I’ve managed to catch off guard the most—myself or Darcy.
“Thank you for letting me horn in on your time with Dax.” Darcy rises from her seat at the table and pushes in her chair. “I appreciate it so much.”
“Oh, nonsense,” my mom protests, following suit and standing. “It’s been so nice to meet one of Dax’s friends.” Enfolding Darcy in a quick hug, she adds, “And now you have our phone numbers, so don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”
Darcy nods before she moves on to Violet, who appears to be waiting her turn to say goodbye. She bends down, and when my niece wraps her arms around her and holds tight, Darcy’s eyes pinch closed as though she’s memorizing the way the embrace feels.
As Darcy and Violet hug, my mom silently mouths, “I like this one.”
I answer with an equally silent, “She’s my friend.”
She rolls her eyes good-naturedly and winks.
Great. Not just my dad but her, too.
He steps up to hug Darcy. “You come back anytime, young lady.” When she steps from his embrace, he adds, “And don’t feel like you have to bring him along as your entry pass.” His eyes crinkle as he smiles at her.
A faint blush spreads across Darcy’s cheeks, and she nods with a quiet, “Thank you.”
I scoop my niece in my arms. She giggles when I band an arm over both her arms and tickle her.
“Who’s your favorite person in the whole wide world?” I demand.
So overcome with giggles, she can barely get the words out. “You, Uncle Dax!”
I immediately stop the tickling, and she lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh of relief. I smack a loud kiss on her cheek before setting her on her feet. She throws her arms around my waist and squeezes me tight.
“Love you.”
I smooth a hand over her thick, dark hair. “Love you, too, kiddo.”
After my mom extracts a promise from Darcy that she’ll come back again to visit, we finally make our escape to my truck. The rain has subsided, leaving behind the usual humidity and warmth.
Darcy falls quiet, and once I hit the final stoplight before we turn onto the interstate to head south to Jacksonville, I glance over to find her peering out her window.
“You okay over there?” I pose gently.
She turns her head, offering the poorest excuse for a smile, and nods before turning back to the window.
Her silence makes me uneasy, but I let it go. I know when something’s bothering me, I prefer to mull it over first before talking it through. So, I turn the radio on low to soothe the uneasy silence in the vehicle.
Just shy of an hour later, I pull into the parking area for her condo building. When I turn off the ignition, her head snaps around, and she stares at me in surprise.
“You don’t have to walk me up.”
Without a word, I get out and circle the vehicle, meeting her on the other side.
“Seriously, Dax. You don’t have to—”
“Hey.” I grab her hand and tip my head toward her building entrance. “Let’s get you inside safely. It’s late. And dark.”
“Okay,” s
he answers slowly.
By the time we arrive at her door, she hesitates, keys in hand. As if forcing herself to look me in the eye, she thanks me for letting her tag along. I tell her it was my pleasure, which isn’t a lie. But if she thinks she’s going to slip inside without telling me what’s bothering her, she’s got another think coming.
She unlocks her door, and I let her step inside before I quickly place a flattened palm against the center. I push it open wider and edge my way inside. Her eyes go wide, and just as her lips part to protest, I nudge the door closed with my foot and press a finger to her lips.
“Friends talk, right?” I ask quietly.
A crease forms between her eyebrows, but she nods hesitantly.
I lean back against the wall of her small foyer. “Please tell me what’s bothering you.”
Her lips twist in a derisive smile, and she shakes her head, averting her eyes. “It’s stupid, Dax. Just let it go.”
I inhale a deep breath before I release it slowly. “Talk to me, Darcy.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Darcy.” That’s all I say, and I simply wait her out. She finally raises her head, blue eyes locking on me.
“Promise you won’t make fun of me?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“Promise.”
She finally gives a curt nod of acceptance. Her gaze lowers to the center of my chest.
“When your mom hugged me tonight—” Her voice cracks, and she clears her throat in an attempt to cover it up. “She really hugged me.” Her words fade, and I have to strain to hear her when she adds, “She hugged me like I always imagined a mom would hug her daughter.” Tearful eyes rise to meet mine. Her glossy lips quiver as she tries to restrain her emotions. The sight of this—of this Darcy—is the biggest goddamn gut punch I’ve ever been on the receiving end of.
There is no fucking way I can do anything else but pull this woman into my arms right now. So, I do.
“Darce.” That’s all I manage to say. I wrap my arms around her and hold her snug against me.