“Not really. My buddy’s husband taught me how to make a mean seared chicken and glazed carrots, and I can do most pasta dishes, but I’ve never fully mastered the art of cooking.”
He took a sip of his own wine, and she tried very hard not to notice the sensual way his throat moved when he swallowed or moan when his tongue came out to swipe a small drop of red liquid off his lips. She failed, but dammit she tried.
“Why not?”
He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, apparently satisfied with two helpings.
“Growing up, I never had to make my own meals. We always had staff on hand for those things or went out. We share making meals at the station, so I’ve had to learn a little in order not to poison my crewmates, but when I’m not at the station, it’s just me.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t seem worth it to make a nice, fancy meal for one.”
She supposed that made sense, even if it did sound a little lonely. She didn’t really understand it. Having grown up just her and her dad doing everything themselves, the mere thought of a staff to take care of your every need seemed like something out of a fairy tale. She had no idea Parker’s family had that kind of money. Suddenly she wondered what her budget-brand dishware and mismatched bathroom towels would look like to him.
“Wow, kinda wish I had a staff to cook for me growing up. Dad did his best, but he worked so hard as it was…I wanted to help out, so I took over meal duty. He was a good sport about it when I started and wasn’t that great at it.” She laughed, remembering a particularly disastrous lasagna recipe failure.
“But it was always fun experimenting with recipes, switching things out to make something new, something different than what was on the page. I started to have a lot of fun with it, and seeing Dad enjoy what I made, well, that was a joy in itself.” For Tamsen, cooking was another form of art. One that fed the soul along with the body.
He frowned, as if the idea of cooking being fun was an alien concept.
“So tell me something about your mom.” She needed to know more about the woman if she was going to plan the perfect party. And, secretly, she wanted to know more about Parker, too.
A loving smile lit up his face. “Mom’s great. She used to come into my room and sneak me cookies when she got home late from the office. Chocolate chip—just like your dad. Even after a long day of work, she always made sure to check in on me. Her career was as important to her as her family. Always has been.”
The light she saw in his eyes when she brought him cookies made much more sense. It was a sweet image, a young boy waiting under the covers for his mom to get home from work with a special treat. She was ashamed to admit she hadn’t thought of Victoria as the workaholic type, but it seemed Parker’s mother really was a superwoman. Admirable for sure.
“Did she often work late?”
Parker stared at the deep red wine in his glass. “Yeah. She was the CEO of the McMillian property management firm before she retired. Put in hard work and long hours, but she always showed up for my important stuff. Baseball games, school awards, those kinds of things.”
Sounded a lot like her dad. “And what did your dad do?”
Parker snorted, downing the last of his wine. “He’s a bloodsucker.”
That was a bit extreme. She knew some people didn’t like their parents, but Parker seemed to downright despise his father.
“A bloodsucker?”
He smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant one. “A lawyer. For the rich and powerful. Defense, mostly. Protecting hedge fund managers who embezzled. Getting teens of prominent people off with a warning when a DUI caused a major wreck. I have no idea what my mother ever saw in him. As far as I can remember, they were always fighting.”
“What about?”
“He thought she should quit her job and be his little society wife. She didn’t agree with the cases he took.” He shrugged. “He took off when I was fourteen. Haven’t seen him since, but I hear he’s still protecting the pockets of the power shakers.”
Okay, then. Sounded like Parker’s dad was a real piece of work. At least she had loving stories about her mother from her dad. Unable to stand the tense silence in the room, she poured the rest of the wine into their glasses.
“I’m sorry, Parker.”
He grabbed his glass and downed a third of it. “It’s not a big deal.”
Kinda seemed like it was.
“Mom was always there to take care of me, protect me. And I intend to do the same for her.”
That was a bit strange. A parent’s job was to protect their child, at least until adulthood, anyway. But a kid protecting their parent? Was she running from the mob or something? Maybe he was worried she’d get taken advantage of in her old age, not that Victoria was old, but scammers did like to target the above-fifty crowd. Some guy tried that crap on her dad a few years ago with a spam call claiming to be from the IRS, but he was smart enough not to fall for it. Was that what Parker was worried about? Someone scamming his mom?
Reaching over, she squeezed his hand reassuringly. “She’s a grown woman. I’m pretty sure she can protect herself. Besides, she’s got my dad now, and I know he’s seems like a big ol’ softie—and don’t get me wrong, he totally is—but he would never let anything happen to your mom. I promise you that.” She laughed, but he didn’t join in. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. She had no idea what was going through Parker’s mind at the moment, but she would bet it wasn’t happy wedding thoughts.
Shifting in her chair, she stood and grabbed their plates. “Let me clear the table, then we can get to brainstorming ideas for the party.”
Because that’s why he was here. Not for a touchy-feely get-to-know-you session. She did need to know more about Victoria, but she didn’t think asking him about his mom would go to such a morose place. Much like the incident with the music request yesterday, she had to remember she didn’t really know that much about Parker.
He placed a hand over hers as she reached for their plates. A spark of awareness shot up her arm, heading straight to her breasts. Her nipples perked up, poking into her bra. Thank goodness she wore the one with the slight padding to cover the reaction. Nothing she could do about the heat on her cheeks, though. She was sure she was blushing, dammit. Why did her body react to this man this way? When was it going to get the memo?
She. Couldn’t. Have. Him!
“You cooked, I’ll clear.”
He smiled, and she nearly melted into a puddle right at the table, worried if she opened her mouth, she’d beg him to forget doing the dishes and do her instead. She nodded and motioned to the dishwasher, unable to take her eyes off his deliciously tight ass as he bent over and placed the dirty dishes inside.
“Mind if I use your restroom before we dive into planning?” he asked once he closed the dishwasher back up.
She quickly adverted his gaze, hoping he hadn’t caught her shamefully staring at his backside. “Of course, it’s down the hall on the left.”
Tamsen grabbed the notebook with the few ideas she’d started to write down for the party and sat at the table going over the notes she’d made. After a few minutes, she glanced up and checked the clock on the stove. Parker had been in the bathroom a while. She hoped she didn’t mix up some ingredient in the casserole and give him stomach problems. She didn’t have as many cooking disaster stories as she did art project stories, but there had been a few. The salt instead of sugar incident of 2013, last year’s baking soda disaster cupcake fail, and the expired milk episode on her father’s sixtieth birthday. That one still haunted her.
Wanting to check and make sure everything was okay—at this rate she would need to change her name and move to some remote island to avoid further embarrassing herself in front of this man—Tamsen hurried down the hall to check on Parker.
But he wasn’t in the bathroom.
The only bathroom in the apartment was empty, the
light off. As she made her way down the hall, she was surprised to see Parker standing in the doorway of her room staring intently at the sketches and easel set up in the corner by the large window. It got the best light in the apartment, so it’s where she did most of her drawing and painting.
She cleared her throat loudly, gaining some satisfaction from the small jump in the corded muscles of Parker’s back. He turned with a sheepish grin.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop.”
She raised one eyebrow.
“Okay, I did. I saw a light on and…” He waved an arm, encompassing her art. “Tamsen, these are amazing.”
Her cheeks heated, warmth and pride filling her at his compliment. “Thank you.”
“I’m not an art aficionado, but these are…powerful.” He stared at the drawings again. “I don’t know if that makes sense. It’s just the word that pops into my head as I look at them.”
“Whatever emotion you feel is the goal,” she answered, coming to stand beside him. “That’s the beauty of art. It’s interpretive. The artist may create one thing, but it truly comes to life in the observed. Whatever it makes you feel, it’s right.”
“Are these all for that human body project you were talking about?”
“Some of them.”
They were all sketches of the human body. Some drawn from life, some from pictures, others she created in her head.
“Life drawing is one of the first things they teach you in art school, but I’ve always been drawn to the complexity of the human form. How different we all are. How similar. The curves and angles, big and small. Each body catering to the soul inside it. I love capturing that soul on paper. Every subject brings new insight. I…I’d love to draw you sometime.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. Her mouth had started to ramble again, running away without her brain. Why had she said that? Yes, she did want to draw Parker, but that didn’t mean she had to tell him about it. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him about all the naughty dreams she’d been having involving him or the sketches she’d already drawn of him…
The heat of his body enveloped her as he moved in closer. She felt the brush of his lips against her ear. A shiver of pleasure running up her spine as his warm breath tickled the hairs on the back of her neck as he spoke.
“You want to draw me? How about in the buff? That can be arranged.”
Chapter Ten
What the hell was he doing flirting with Tamsen? He had no idea, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
Future stepsister!
And daughter of a possible con man.
Right, the big red flag waving over their heads reminding him what a monumentally ridiculous idea it would be to hook up with Tamsen. The mental reminder caused him to take a step back. And a physical one. This close proximity to Tamsen was messing with his head. He rocked back on his heels, affecting a teasing tone.
“Maybe you could come down and draw the whole crew at Station 42. We could make this year’s firefighter calendar real classy and charge a fortune for it.”
She blinked, the hazy, lust-filled look in her eyes disappearing as her lips curled up in a smile. “I don’t think ‘classy’ is what people want when it comes to those calendars. Come on, let’s get back to party planning.”
She shook her head with a laugh and headed out of the bedroom back into the kitchen. Parker gave her bed a fond glance before following.
“Can I get you some coffee or a cup of tea?”
He’d rather have more wine to dull the aching need burning for her inside him. “If you have decaf, coffee sounds great.”
“I do. Cream and sugar?”
He shook his head. Years of working the chaotic and exhausting job of a first responder had taught him to take coffee black because most times, that was the only way you could get it. Tamsen moved around the small kitchen, dumping the grounds into her coffeemaker and filling the reservoir with water.
He found himself fascinated by her movements, the swing and sway of her purple blouse that did that weird thing where it hung down farther in the back than the front. Her slim legs were encased in yellow leggings today. They hugged every dip and curve of her body, moving effortlessly with her like a second skin. His mother’s snobby society friends might say leggings were not appropriate attire. But Tamsen’s clothes were almost an art piece in and of themselves. He knew people tended to stare a lot at good art, and he found his eyes locked on Tamsen whenever they were in the same room.
Once the coffee was done, Tamsen brought it to the table and pulled a red notebook in front of her.
“Okay, let’s brainstorm,” she said, opening the notebook.
“I still think this is a weird idea.”
“Aren’t all traditions associated with weddings a little weird? The thing with the garter and the bouquet toss. Throwing rice. Decorating the car with streamers and tin cans. Giant inflatable penises at the bachelorette party.”
He recoiled in mock horror. “Please tell me we’re not planning my mother’s bachelorette party, too. Silly shower games I can handle, but I draw the line at shopping for dick paraphernalia for my own mother.”
She reached out to pat his hand. The small touch seared him, sending heat all the way down to his cock. Tamsen didn’t seem affected, so he told his dick to cool it and adjusted in his seat, grateful for the table masking his reaction to this woman.
“Poor Parker. How awkward that would be for you. Try being a thirteen-year-old girl explaining to your father that you have to go to the store for tampons.”
Yeah, she had him there.
She pulled her hand away and picked up a pen. “Your mom and my dad want a shower as a way to celebrate with their friends together, that’s it.”
He nodded. “Yeah, that’s more like Mom’s style.”
“First things first, we have to pick a location.” She tapped the pen against her lips. “Somewhere nice, but not as fancy as that clubroom place where they had the engagement party. This party will be much more intimate.”
“No need to impress the upper-crusts?”
“Exactly. They only want close friends and family invited to this one. Those who truly care.”
He could roll with that. Though, with the kind of money his family had, sometimes it was hard to know who cared and who was pretending to get in good graces with the family fortune.
“A nice restaurant?”
She shook her head at his suggestion. “The problem there is most only allow you to rent out a back room, not the full place, and we want something a bit more private.”
Her brow furrowed in concentration before her eyes suddenly lit up. She smiled, raising the pen in the air.
“I got it! I can ask Winston if we can use the gallery. As long as there’s not a show happening that night, I’m sure he’ll say yes. Hephaestus is the perfect location.”
An art gallery could be cool, even if it did have a weird-ass name. His mom would probably like it. She loved art. She was on the board of a few artist foundations in the area. Though she couldn’t paint herself, she loved attending gallery showings. Then there was the summer of his sophomore year they spent in Paris. She’d taken him to the Louvre five times. Once had been enough for him, but he’d been happy to go as many times as she wanted because of the way joy filled her face whenever she stared at the artwork.
Yeah, an art gallery would be perfect.
“Is that where your art is?” He didn’t know if Tamsen sold any of her pieces, but she should. The stuff he’d seen was amazing.
“No, it’s where I work.”
“Wait, I thought you worked at a restaurant?”
She glanced up from writing things down on the paper. “I do, but I also work at the gallery. And I do some freelance stuff online. Hopefully the show I’m working on gets my foot in the art world door. Then sell some pieces, arrange
commission work, shoot, maybe I can even find myself a fancy, rich benefactor and I can kiss the starving artist life good-bye. But until then, it’s nose to the grindstone and multiple jobs. Such is the life, right?”
She chuckled, but he didn’t feel like laughing at the moment. Fancy, rich benefactor. Suspicion rose within. It was obvious Tamsen was a hard worker and managing to get by, but even she admitted it’d be a dream to have someone supporting her. Did her dad think the same way? He knew the guy worked at a library, but he had little idea what the man’s financials looked like.
Maybe Thomas Hayes wanted to pad his golden years by marrying into money.
“But,” Tamsen continued, “I’m doing what I love, so I guess I can’t complain, right?”
Now, that he understood. Parker’s dad had been prepping him for the bar exam since kindergarten. His mother hadn’t pressed, but he knew she assumed he’d follow her into the family business. His father had scoffed at his childhood dream of becoming a firefighter, but his mother encouraged him. She’d always been in his corner, encouraging his decision to follow his dreams, to enter the fire academy. She never questioned his decision or made him feel inferior for choosing it over the family business. And now, he was doing what he loved, despite the lack of riches or power.
Tamsen was right. Nothing could beat following your dream.
“So what do you think about the gallery? I’ll show you around, see what you think?”
What he thought was his head was aching from ping-ponging back and forth between wanting this woman and being suspicious of her father’s motives with his mother. If his damn PI would just finish his report, maybe Parker could have some peace of mind.
“Sure. I mean, I think you probably have a better idea of what would make for a great party spot. The last party I planned was O’Neil’s birthday at the firehouse, and all it entailed was getting a cake and rigging the fake snake to jump out at him when he opened his present.”
She glanced up from the notebook she’d been scribbling down ideas in. “I’m sorry, what? Fake snake?”
The Wedding Dilemma (Mile High Firefighters) Page 9