Wow. She moves down to Remi, and I watch as a male server puts plates in front of Lillie and Eleanor. The woman who served me opens a bottle of white wine and pours Eleanor a glass. She stops by Remi’s seat and he holds up a hand.
“I have a little more work to do tonight. Thanks.”
“You work too much.” Eleanor’s voice is condescending, and I see him bristle.
The server is at my side. “None for me, thanks!” I cover the rim of my glass. “I still have work to do, too.” Eleanor glares at me, and I smile. “Lillie won’t put herself to bed!”
“Honestly,” she shakes her head. “One glass of wine won’t hurt you. It’s actually good for you.”
“What’s this red thing?” Lillie pokes at the beet on her plate.
“It’s called a beet.” Eleanor touches her small wrist. “Don’t play with your food.”
Holding my breath, I watch as Lillie stabs the dark red slice and pops it in her mouth. Her little eyes widen, and I have no idea what’s about to happen.
“It tastes like dirt!” She announces, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
Eleanor is undeterred, calmly taking a bite of her salad. “And how do you know what dirt tastes like?”
“Louie made us all eat dirt to prove we could be good soldiers.” Lillie stabs another beet. “I can eat dirt. I’m going to be a general.”
Remi laughs as he shovels another bite of salad into his mouth. “Take it from me, soldiers don’t eat dirt, honey.”
Eleanor puts down her fork. “While I admire your fortitude, Lillian, you are not to eat dirt at school or anywhere. That’s how you get worms.”
My smile is tight, and while I hate being on Eleanor’s side, I don’t want Lillie eating dirt either.
Her little brow furrows, and she stabs the last red beet on her plate. “What kind of worms? Earthworms are friendly worms, but they wiggle so fast when you touch them.”
She holds up a little hand and squiggles her fingers wildly.
“I’m going to have a talk with your teacher,” Eleanor huffs, leaning back with her wine as the male server reappears to collect our salad plates.
“Miss Terry says dirt has minerals in it.”
Eleanor glares at her, but I jump in to redirect. “It’s true. Pica is a medical condition where patients crave dirt and other non-nutritive substances. Researchers later found many of them were anemic and deficient in other minerals like iron and zinc.”
“So you’re saying Lillian should be allowed to eat dirt?” It’s not really a question. It’s a stabby little barb from Eleanor to me.
“Of course not.” I force a laugh. “I only mean it shouldn’t hurt her.”
“Lillian,” Eleanor turns to her granddaughter. “I forbid you to eat dirt.”
Lillie looks at me, and I nod. “It’s not a good idea.”
The female server enters the room with two plates of meat and a swirled cloud of deep orange fluff. “Free-range pork chops and mashed, organic sweet potatoes locally grown right here in Pike County.”
I’m across the table from Lillie, but the male server stays at her side, slicing her pork into tiny pieces before leaving. Good to know.
“This ought to be good for us.” Remi cuts a slice of the perfectly cooked pork and pops it in his mouth. “It’s delicious.”
The female nods and leaves the room.
“Daddy and I had pigs in blankets for lunch!” Lillie announces proudly as she pushes the sweet potato mash around her plate.
Eleanor’s eyes go wide. “Who in the world gave you that? Remington?”
He starts to answer, but Lillie cuts him off. “Ruby made them, and I helped! Ruby’s not like Tiana. She can’t cook everything in New Orleans.”
My lips press together, and I’m not sure if I want to laugh or crawl under the table.
Eleanor puts her fork beside her plate and glares at me. “You might just as well have fed her dirt. Do you know how many chemicals… how much sodium is in a hot dog?”
“Ruby said they were cocktail weenies.” Lillie starts to giggle, stacking her sweet potatoes higher on her plate. “She said weenie.”
“Lillian, stop playing with your food. It’s bad manners.” Eleanor clears her throat and turns to me. “Perhaps we should sit down and create a menu for lunches each week.”
Remi puts his fork beside his plate. “It was a delicious lunch, complete with baby carrots—”
“And ranch dressing!” Lillie cries.
Eleanor puts her hand to her chest as if she’ll faint.
My lips press into a frown, and I push my own sweet potatoes around. Ma was pretty much Suzy Homemaker when I was growing up, but all I know how to make is spicy dumplings and kimchee. Drew’s house was where I got American food, and we ate all the things I know how to prepare… none of which are free-range or organically grown.
“I appreciate your feelings about a healthy diet, Eleanor,” Remi continues. “I also appreciate Ruby’s effort preparing a fun lunch for Lillie, even if it falls outside your nutritional norms.”
He’s kind of awesome sticking up for me, and I give him a grateful smile.
“Remington, you can’t let her eat that trash. Too much sodium is bad for her heart, juvenile diabetes is at an all-time high, obesity is—”
“We can talk about it later.”
Looking down at the fancy meal before us, I guess pop tarts are off the list. I’ll have to do some research on healthy eating and step up my game a little bit, maybe pull Ma into the mix. I don’t want to make Lillie unhealthy.
Finally we’re done, and I lead my little charge up two flights of stairs to her elaborate bedroom. It’s like a room in a palace with an ornate headboard and thick, fluffy duvets and loads of pillows.
She’s bathed and dressed in her Elsa nightgown, searching for a book to read as I pick up her clothes and put them on hangers.
“You’re old enough to hang your own clothes now.” My tone is gentle, and I pull the sleeves of her coat out of the body. It’s when I notice a crinkly ball in the pocket.
Reaching inside, I pull out three packets of ketchup. The kind that comes from fast-food restaurants. “What’s this? Where did you get these?”
The minute she sees me, her face flushes with shame. She runs to where I’m standing and takes them from me. “Don’t tell Gigi. She’ll never let me get a puppy.”
My mouth drops open, and I watch as she reaches under her bed for a plastic, heart-shaped box. It looks like the one the evil queen gave the huntsman for Snow White’s heart, and I pause for a moment to consider just how gruesome that storyline is for children.
She opens it, and it’s stuffed with ketchup and mustard packets. I’m completely bewildered by all this new information. A puppy? And what the hell is up with all the condiments?
“Where did you get all of these?” I rake my finger through the little foil pouches.
She shrugs, taking one out and squishing it in her hand. “Feel it.” We sit together, and I give one a squish. She squishes hers back and forth in her little fingers, whispering, “Gigi says I can’t have them.”
Pressing my lips together, I think about what a little scientist she is. Or a little weirdo. “You need to mind your Gigi.” Her brow falls, and I lean closer. “But I’ll let you keep them. Don’t get them in your bed. They might pop, and that would make a huge mess. We’d probably have to get a whole new bed.”
She jumps forward, throwing her arms around my neck. “I love you, Ruby. You’re my best friend.”
It pretty much seals the deal. “I love you, too. Now put these up and get in the bed.”
“Maybe if I get all stars I can get a puppy for Christmas like Darling in Lady and the Tramp.”
Chewing my lip, I look around at all the super nice furniture. I think of the polished wood floors. “Have you talked to your dad about getting a puppy?”
“Gigi says puppies are a lot of work. She says they’re babies that never grow up, and I’m the baby f
or now.”
I think about this a minute, and as much as I hate to say it… “She kind of has a point. Dogs are a lot of work, and you might be too little to help walk it and teach it to do tricks.”
“Would you help me?” Her little hazel eyes go round, and I won’t lie, it squeezes my heart. How can I say no to that?
“This isn’t like the ketchup packets, Lil. You’re going to have to ask your daddy about this one.” Her little shoulders drop, and I tuck the blankets tight all down her sides. “Now you’re a well-rolled dumpling.” She nods slowly, her eyes still downcast.
I exhale a sigh. “Tell you what. If your daddy says you can have a puppy, I’ll for sure help you with it.”
Her expression flips to excitement so fast, I start to laugh. I’m pretty sure this little con artist knows exactly how powerful her own set of puppy-dog eyes are.
We read a quick story and finish the night singing “Bella Notte” from Lady and the Tramp before “Now I lay me” prayers and turning out the light.
I’m standing out on the landing trying to figure out how to handle this situation when I notice Remi on the floor below looking up at me. My heartbeat picks up, and I walk down to where he’s standing.
“Don’t you have work to do?” I can’t resist teasing him.
“I’m at a stopping point.” He grins and that dimple makes a special appearance. “I like listening to you sing with her. She never sang so much before you came here.”
“The songs are the best part of those movies.”
“Want to have that glass of wine now?”
It feels like a risky suggestion, but hell if I’ll say no. “I’d love it.”
10
Remi
The lights of the neighborhood reflect across the lake, and the moon is full.
“You picked a good song for tonight.” We walk through the French doors holding glasses of wine, and I stop in front of the two easels.
Lillie’s painting is bold black lines and large patches of dark and light blue, but Ruby’s looks like something out of a gallery. It’s delicate abstract with short brush strokes and subtle gradients of color.
“This is really good. Did you minor in art?”
“Heck no.” She laughs and shakes her head as she sips her wine. “My dad would never approve of such a useless degree.”
“Art’s not useless.”
“It’s not something Kenneth Banks was willing to fund, and I caved just like the pushover he always said I was. Always second-guessing myself…” She steps up beside me looking at the canvas, her slim brow furrowed. “But never mind all that. Earlier today you said something that confused me.”
I’m still trying to get over this little reveal she just gave me about her childhood. I can’t help wondering how much we have in common.
“How did I confuse you?”
“You said your dad criticized you. What in the world could he criticize? You’ve done really well. You served in the military, then you were a huge tech success…” Her dark brow furrows, and she seems almost protective—of me. It’s completely out of left field.
My father is not my favorite topic, but I’m intrigued by her interest. “I was successful because I followed the plan he approved.”
“You’re saying there was an alternate plan?” Her eyes narrow, but a smile hints at her lips, those full, kissable, rosebud lips.
“A plan my father called absolutely ludicrous.” Glancing down, I clear my throat. Not many people know this part of my history. “I wanted to be a singer.”
Her jaw drops and her pretty, pretty eyes go round. “Shut up.”
“It’s true.” I walk over and sit on the sofa in the center of the patio.
She follows me and sits on the table in front of me, excited. “You can sing?”
“I was in a band in college… for about a minute. Until Howard found out.” I take a sip of the dry wine. “Naturally, he was horrified.”
“I take it Howard’s your dad?” I nod, and her lips press into a knowing smile. “That explains it.”
“What?”
“Lillie has a great ear for music. She never gets off key, and she keeps the tempo steady, even a capella. That’s really huge for a four-year-old.”
Not what I expected, although I like hearing it. “I thought all children could sing those songs. They all seem to.”
“Um, no. Most little kids are all over the place. Lillie’s special.” Her voice turns soft. “Like you.”
An unexpected compliment. It sends my mind flying down that old familiar rabbit hole, but she changes direction quickly. “What kind of band were you in? Rock and roll?”
“Classic country.”
She almost chokes on her sip, covering her mouth and laughing. “No way!”
“Way.”
“You are a very unexpected man, Remington.”
“Call me Remi.” I give her a wink and polish off my glass. “I’m sure you wouldn’t know a song on our set list.”
“Ha! That’s where you’d be wrong.” She points her finger as she polishes off her wine. I reach for the bottle and pour us each another glass. “My mom is a huge classic country fan. It’s how I got my name.”
Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “You’re named after the Kenny Rogers song?”
“I am indeed. Ma loves it. She’s fascinated by the Asian war angle.”
“It’s kind of depressing.” I sip my wine, thinking about the lyrics. “Ruby leaves her crippled husband at home to cat around in town.”
“First, it’s not clear he was her husband.” She’s counting off on one hand, holding her wine in the other. Absolutely adorable. “Second, a woman her age has wants and needs.”
“Still, she leaves him to… take her love to town.” I cock an eyebrow, and she raises hers as she sips her wine. “We should have dinner with your mom. I’d like to discuss our shared love of Kenny.”
“Do you love Kenny Rogers?” She gives me a skeptical look, and I take her hand, singing the first line of his song…
“Everyone considered him the coward of the county…”
She laughs, and it’s sort of magical. We’re out on the flagstone patio under the stars, singing, drinking wine under the moon with the lake gleaming behind us. I want her to sit beside me so I can put my arm around her shoulders and pull her close, kiss her head, her lips…
“My favorite is The Gambler.”
“He made a life out of reading people’s faces.” I study hers, wondering if I’m reading it right. If so…
“I thought it was weird how they made a whole TV series out of that song. It’s really sad. He dies.” She whispers that part as if it’s a secret.
“He broke even.”
A breeze filters through, sweeping a long dark wave over her shoulder. Her chin drops, and I’m fascinated by her. She’s so pretty. When she looks up at me again, her eyes are deep, like she’s contemplating telling me something.
“What?”
“You said you don’t want to be like your father, but when you sing, when you listen to your daughter sing and love it, you’re already not like him.”
Her words flood my chest with warmth. “You said you’ll help me be sure I’m not.”
“I will.” She smiles and stands. “If I can keep my vision of you clear.”
I stand with her, and we’re face to face again, close. “What does that mean?”
She puts her hand on my chest. “It means you tend to cloud my vision.”
I put my hand over hers, loving the flow of electricity between us. “How do I do that?” My voice is low, confident.
“You’re a good man, Remi, and you’re so sweet to your daughter.” Her chin lifts and the moon bathes her face in silver. “When you look at me, I find it very hard to be objective.”
“Objectively, I enjoy looking at you, so good to know.”
She exhales a laugh, taking a step back. “Sing me your favorite Kenny Rogers song.”
“Wow… okay… I hav
e to think about that one.” I set my wine glass on the table, retracing our conversation, the things she said. Then I have it. “She believes in me. I’ll never know just what she sees in me…”
I hold the note and her eyes close. “Mm… that’s nice. You have an amazing voice.”
Her eyes blink open slowly, and when they meet mine, I want to carry her to my bedroom.
I’m caught off guard by what she does next. She steps forward, and the hand on my chest slides higher to my collar. At the same time, she places her other hand on my cheek. Before I’m fully aware of what’s happening, she rises on her toes and lightly presses those full, pouty lips to mine.
It’s a closed-mouth kiss, but my hands are on her at once, pulling her closer, sliding higher to hold her face, threading my fingers in her silky hair, as I open her mouth with mine.
She makes a little noise when our tongues touch and curl together, and heat floods my torso, centering in my pelvis. I’m instantly hard, and God, I want her in my bed. She tastes like expensive dry wine, and she smells like heaven.
Sliding my arms around her, I can’t help noting how perfectly she fits against my body, shoulder to chest to stomach. I chase after another, deeper kiss, but she turns her face, pressing her palms against me.
I release her at once, and when she glances up, her eyes are brimming with emotion.
She blinks fast, turning away again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sexually harass you.” Her tone changes to shaky humor. “I might be a little drunk.”
“I think sexual harassment is premised on who has the most power, and you only had one glass of wine.”
“Now you’re a lawyer?” She holds the chair and steps around the easels, going quickly toward the house.
I’m not ready to let her leave. “Hang on… where are you going?”
“It’s time to walk away. Or maybe run.” She lets out a nervous laugh.
“I don’t want you to walk away.”
“You’re right, I’d better run.”
“Ruby, wait.” I catch her hand, stopping her progress. “Why are you running from me?”
Tempt Me: A First Class Romance Collection Page 71