by Kris Jayne
“Only my friends call me Kat.” Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed, sizing me up.
“So should I stick with Katerina for now?” I asked.
One corner of her mouth lifted into a half smile. “Probably.”
She shook my hand anyway, and I took that as a small win. Katerina reminded me of Delilah, but she had a tougher, blunter manner. She was Delilah 2.0 and a lot to handle. I wondered if Adrian knew what he was signing up for.
Katerina, Adrian, and I settled around the kitchen table where Delilah had put out snacks. She joined us after retrieving a couple of scones, clotted cream, and jam and set the plate in front of me.
“We had some left over from this morning.”
“Are these the same as the other day? I was so jealous,” I said. My mouth watered. They looked even better in person.
“No. These, I made,” she said.
I fixed up my scone with a generous slather of cream and a dollop of strawberry preserves. Sweet, creamy, and the faintest salt from the tender scone. Damn, this woman could bake.
“You like?” she asked.
Confidence lit her eyes. She didn’t need me to answer, but I did anyway.
“I love.”
Katerina looked at us and giggled. “So, anyway, we were going to run to the liquor store to get more booze for tonight.”
“I think we have enough,” Delilah said. “It’s not like Griffin doesn’t have any at his place.”
I’d decided to host a get together at my house. I wanted tonight to be relaxing and fun, and as much as she enjoyed it, Delilah would stress over the food, the drink, and prepping for the party if she hosted.
“I am fully stocked. Angelica pulled everything together.”
“Angelica is Griffin’s housekeeper,” Delilah explained to Kat and Adrian.
“Mom, you said Clarissa is coming, right?”
“Yes. She and Pete.”
I’d told Delilah to invite some other friends if she wanted, and she’d sent an invite to her friend, Clarissa, and her husband. Clarissa ran a catering company, so the pressure was on to serve good food. Angelica hadn’t blinked. As long as I wasn’t cooking, we were probably safe.
“I’m looking forward to meeting your friends.” I brushed my hand over Delilah’s, and she turned it over, gripping mine for a second before letting it go. Shockwaves of missing her rippled through me.
Delilah grinned. “I’m glad you stopped by.”
“Okay,” Adrian interjected. “We’re going to hop over to the store and run some last-minute errands.”
He elbowed Katerina, who glared at me. “Yeah, we’ll be out for a bit, but back in time to get ready for tonight. The party starts at eight, right?”
Griffin nodded. “Yes, but you can come whenever.”
“I thought I might get there around 6:30 or so, but you guys can come later. We don’t have to drive together,” Delilah said.
“We should plan on that,” Adrian said.
He and Katerina hurried to the door, chattering in low tones. From the foyer, I heard the door open and the faint, masculine whisper of, “she might want to stay over” and a snort and gasp from Katerina, followed by, “oh, my God.” Then, the front door clicked shut.
Delilah covered her face. “Oh, my God is right.”
“I think Katerina likes me well enough.”
“She does, actually.”
“I wouldn’t mind it if you did stay over.” I breathed out the tension of having to control myself when all I wanted was to wrap my arms around Delilah and sink into her in every way possible, but there probably wasn’t time for that.
“I thought about that. I’m nervous like I’m planning to sneak out and avoid getting in trouble with my parents instead of with my daughter.” She giggled.
“Come here,” I said, standing up. “I didn’t get to give you a proper hello.”
She stood and stepped into my open embrace. Her warmth seeped into my bones before our bodies even came together. By the time my lips crashed down on hers, I’d already lost track of time. Besides, there was always time for this.
Her tongue thrust between my parted lips, and she tasted better than the scone. I drew my hands down the curves of her body and pulled her closer with one hand on each mound of her ass. Her nails dug into my neck, and the pain only made me shiver, needing her more.
I gave myself a mental high five for not waiting to see her until she came over with her daughter and the fiancé and sent a silent thank you to the young couple for bolting.
She pulled back. “We should get ready for tonight.”
“We will.” I nipped at her earlobe. “In a minute.”
She moaned into my shoulder. “A minute? You’re not selling this very well.”
“Ha ha.” I suckled her neck. “Better?”
“Mmhmm,” she mumbled.
I found her lips again, soft and yielding against mine before pulling away to dig out my wallet. I extracted a condom and tossed it on the counter.
Delilah glanced toward the front door.
“They’re gone,” I said.
Then, she cast an eye at the back hallway. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”
I shook my head and unbuckled my belt. “No. Here.”
“Here?” she squeaked. “This is where I cook.”
I grinned. “This is where I’m about to get something cooking.”
She winced at my stupid joke and laughed, covering her face. I pulled her arms down and pressed closer to her. “I’ve been thinking about how and where I wanted to bend you over like your book suggested the other night. I think right here is perfect.”
“Where I bake cakes and make biscuits?”
Something about the way she said “biscuits” made my mouth water and my cock jump. “Turn around and bend over.”
She did, bracing her hands on the counter. I jerked my pants and underwear to my ankles and grabbed the condom. Her nervous laughter bubbled toward me. I flipped up her maxi skirt and curved my hand over her ass, sliding it down and between her legs until she stopped laughing.
“Spread your legs wider.”
Her obedience gave me exactly the angle I wanted. I slid inside her, and she felt like home.
Chapter 10
Griffin
When Delilah suggested I join her family for their New Year’s Day brunch, I hesitated at first. I’d had to schmooze a few fathers at family functions in my day, but this was my first ex-husband. However, after having a nice time meeting her daughter and friends and hanging on New Year’s Eve, it seemed only natural, so I said yes.
Delilah and I arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early. A hostess showed us to the small side room her ex-husband and his mother reserved at the down-home, family-style restaurant where they’d had special occasion meals for years. The place wasn’t fancy, but it was Eniola Johnston’s favorite. Making her happy appeared to be the primary focus of everyone who knew her.
She sat at the end of the table, holding court with Terrence Johnston’s new girlfriend—a salt-and-pepper-haired, bronze-skinned woman dressed in flowing layers of sweaters over tie-dyed leggings. The matriarch of the family wore a burgundy suit with high-collared blouse, diamond broach, and an elaborate two-tiered hat draped in silk organza, which I gathered she wouldn’t be removing even to eat.
Delilah ushered me through a round of introductions before we landed at the other end of the table with her ex-husband, who stood to deliver a vise grip handshake.
“Kelso?” The man whose genes gave Katerina her height gripped my hand harder with his brows creased.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Your father is Gregory Kelso,” Terrence Johnston announced as if delivering news to me.
I retracted my hand and flexed my fingers. “Last I checked.”
“We financed some projects for Kelso. An old friend of mine works closely with your father. Carter Cross. Do you know him?”
“I do. He’s my father’s right-hand man. How do you kn
ow Carter?” I asked, suddenly queasy.
“Church growing up. His mother and mine were on the church board together, and Mama used to babysit him. I’ve known him practically his entire life. Great guy. One of the smartest people I know, and man, could he play ball. I mean, he had to be good, right, to play at Duke?”
“You didn’t mention that you’d known Carter that long,” Delilah remarked, turning to me. “Did you meet him in college?”
I nodded. “He’s a few years older than I am. He was a grad student when I was there. He interned at my…KCRE—Kelso Commercial Real Estate. My dad’s company.” I stuttered for a moment. It wasn’t my family business. It was the family business, which I’d done everything I could to avoid as the years went on.
I studied Terrence’s face, which didn’t require much skill. He’d make a terrible poker player. His brows shot up when I said I was younger than Carter, then his eyes narrowed while I filled in a fraction of the blanks in the story I’d told Delilah yesterday. “He basically took the position my dad carved out for me. I decided to move to New York and do my own thing. Carter started at the company. He’s still there.”
Delilah joined her ex in giving me side eye before interjecting, “I had no idea you two would know someone in common.”
“Yes. It’s a small world,” Terrence said. “You never know who you’re going to run into and what stories you’ll hear about people.”
Shit. If Terrence and Carter were friends, there’s no telling what “stories” Carter had shared about his boss’ ne’er-do-well son or our family history. And no telling what Delilah might hear about me from her ex now that he was connecting to the dots.
I’d have to tell Delilah about Marisa before she came to North Carolina with me, but for some reason, I couldn’t get the words out. How much should I even say? There were parts of the past even I wanted to forget, and bringing them up now would only cause more pain and confusion.
“Stories and gossip do make the rounds sometimes. Fortunately, we’re all adults and know to judge people by our experience and not what we hear through the grapevine,” I said and snaked my arm around Delilah’s waist.
She leaned into me, looked up, and smiled. “True. Now that you’ve met everyone, let’s sit and figure out what we’re going to order.”
A young guy with a colorful, East Texas drawl had dropped off pitchers of mimosas and coffee before disappearing with the promise to be back in a few minutes. Delilah and I scooted around the edge of the table and down the side to sit across from Adrian and Katerina, who were next to her grandmother.
My wariness over Terrence receded. All he could truthfully say was that I’d once dated my father’s wife and that I’d had a man-whore phase, which my father and his cronies always exaggerated. I could defend anything I’d done on both counts. Other than that, he likely heard Carter talk about how I’d flitted from job to job, running away from my family responsibilities. That wasn’t true. I didn’t lack focus. I took a while to find my way, which was neither a crime nor a sin.
Now, I knew what I wanted professionally and, for once in my life, personally.
Delilah dropped her head to my shoulder and whispered. “I’m going to assume you’ll tell me the rest of the story about this Carter guy.”
“You never met him?”
“Not that I can remember.”
“It’s not that complicated,” I murmured. “He’s my dad’s favorite son, which is surprising since I always thought I was an only child.”
I poured myself a mimosa and took a long drink to wash down the unpleasantness of irrational envy. Delilah patted my thigh, sending awkward tingles up my back and to other parts of my anatomy.
“You have the life you want, right?” she asked.
I stared down into her blissfully deep brown eyes and drank in the acceptance and encouragement I saw there. “I have exactly the life I want. Dad had other ideas for me, and he and I butted heads over some other…problems, but we can talk about that later.” I grinned and raised my glass, prompting her to raise hers. “Cheers.”
At that point, the waiter returned, and I hurried to open my menu and pick something to eat as he made his way around the table. Sweet or savory? My fitness routine would demand savory—eggs, protein, and maybe some oatmeal—but the nine-year-old in me wanted waffles with strawberries and cream. The nine-year-old won.
“Good Lord,” Eniola exclaimed from her position at the head of the table on the other side of Delilah. “That’s like having dessert for breakfast, but I guess you young people can eat like that and not worry about getting the sugar like older folks.”
Mrs. Johnston roped Delilah into the latter category with a glare.
“Mother Johnston, I don’t think one waffle is going to give anyone diabetes,” she said and caught the waiter’s gaze before it darted away in embarrassment. “In fact, I’m going to have the blueberry pancakes and a side of scrambled eggs.”
I nudged her with my elbow. “I thought you were looking forward to their Florentine omelet.”
She’d declared her choice in the car on our way over. That omelet was her favorite menu item and what she always ordered.
“I feel like changing it up, and sweet breakfast sounds good today.” She picked up her champagne flute and tipped it toward me. I clinked her glass in grateful understanding. We were in this together.
Eniola sniffed loudly. “You’re usually more careful about your waistline.”
“Gigi,” her granddaughter interjected. “Mom eats well ninety percent of the time. It’s the holidays, and this is a special occasion. We’re celebrating.”
Katerina placed her ringed hand on Mrs. Johnston’s forearm, and the light from the diamond sparked joy in the elder woman’s eyes. “That’s right. I’m so happy about you and your young man.”
I detected a slight dig about Delilah and me but chose not to comment and ruin Katerina’s deft redirection to the safe topic of her engagement.
“I am, too,” Delilah added and glanced down the table. “Now that everyone’s seated, we should toast.”
Without waiting for her ex-daughter-in-law to act on her declaration, Eniola plucked up a butter knife and rapped it on the side of her bloody Mary glass. She declared earlier that champagne and orange juice gave her acid reflux. I wasn’t sure how vodka and tomato juice was any gentler on the stomach.
“Everyone, let’s settle down before the waiter comes back. I want to raise our glasses to my wonderful granddaughter, Katerina, and her fiancé, Adrian. I’m so pleased to see you ready to start your life with a blessed marriage to such a lovely young man. Katerina, you have always conducted yourself with grace and modesty, and I’m thrilled that you’ve been sent a companion worthy of you. That’s all anyone can ask for their children. You pray that they don’t throw their pearls before swine.”
Delilah stiffened next to me. Her profile clouded with a bronzed flush barely perceptible in her golden-brown skin. Her nostrils flared, then she exhaled loudly.
Mother Johnston continued. “But in just a short time, I can see the love between you and Adrian, and I can’t wait to see you graduate from college—with honors, of course—” Everyone laughed and lifted their already raised glasses a little higher before the older woman continued. “And get married. Congratulations, baby. Cheers!”
We joined in with our own cheers and drank.
Mrs. Johnston set her bloody Mary next to her plate. “Have you two set a date?”
“Not quite. But we know when we want to get married.” Katerina’s eyes darted to Adrian and her mother, nervous for the first time since I’d met her.
Delilah sat up straight. “We talked the other day and decided there’s no reason to wait. So we’re looking at dates this summer. Adrian’s family owns a winery in France, and they have some dates available to host the wedding. Clarissa has volunteered to cater. Doesn’t a summer wedding in a Burgundy vineyard sound like perfection?”
She widened her eyes and smiled wider than
I’d ever seen her do, as if she were selling something. Terrence and his mother gasped. Obviously, the idea did not sound like perfection to some at the table.
“What about college?” Terrence asked.
Katerina lifted her chin, full of courage again. “I’ll finish on time. We’ll just get married before my senior year. I don’t want to wait.”
“You’re not…” Her father looked nearly green.
“Oh, my Lord!” Eniola’s mouth gaped.
“I’m not pregnant,” Katerina grumbled and rolled her eyes.
Adrian held his fiancée’s hand and leaned forward to address his future father-in-law. “We want to be together now and see no reason why we have to wait until after her graduation. I’ll be done this summer. I have a job and want to move off campus, but then, I’ll be further away and…then, umm...”
Delilah interjected in a brusque, prim tone to save him as he floundered. “They’d rather marry than live together. I should think everyone would prefer that.”
Was she that prudish about her daughter? Who cared if they lived together? Adrian and Katerina obviously cared for each other.
Delilah made eye contact with her ex-husband and mother-in-law, and whatever objections they might have had dissipated, unspoken. Perhaps her moralistic speech had served its purpose.
“I suppose,” her ex clipped. “We can talk about this later.”
“Good idea,” Delilah said.
We chatted about every banal subject from the weather to our favorite Christmas music until the waiter returned with our food. Throughout the conversation, I found myself looking at Terrence and trying to imagine what he and Delilah had been like together.
On one hand, she was organized, straight-shooting, and exactly who I imagined a man like him marrying. But then I had to wonder how she could have been with him and then could now be with me? I mean, the guy folded his napkin into a perfect square, matching up the corners, before he excused himself to the bathroom.
But then, he was now dating a crystal-gazing masseuse who had detailed her tarot reading for the New Year. I was pretty sure Mother Johnston thought her a Satanist.