Right Now

by Marie Hall

  He tugged at his collar. “Damn shirt’s cutting off my breathing.”

  I could feel Alex’s amused gaze boring into my back. I wasn’t lying when I told him my family was unique. “And why are you dressed so snazzy anyway?”

  “Obasaan called me, said you were bringing a feller to call, told me to dress like I didn’t come out of a gutter.” He purposefully said it in his most obnoxious redneck voice, then laughed. “I swear, if I didn’t like that woman so much…” His tone filled with warmth, then his eyes settled over my shoulder. “You must be that guy.”

  Figuring it was probably time to make introductions, I stepped aside and slipped my arm through Alex’s. My heart trembled and my pulse rushed through my ears. Alex smelled so good today, like sage and spice, and I was already having some serious feels thanks to those fuzzy dice he’d given me.

  It meant something when a guy gave you a gift, right? I wanted to believe so anyway.

  “Uncle, this is Alex.”

  Hank grunted in response, then stuck out his hand. “And where’d you meet my girl?”

  Oh my God, my uncle wasn’t getting ready to do the whole peeing-on-the-hydrant thing, was he? Judging by the way he was posturing and eyeing my “fake boyfriend,” it sure seemed like it.

  Alex was a tall guy; I wasn’t sure how tall exactly, but easily six foot five. My uncle was round and squat. It might have been funny to see these two squaring off, at least if my stomach hadn’t been suddenly overrun by a serious case of kamikaze butterflies.

  A sparkle danced through Alex’s wicked gray eyes. “At the Shack, sir. We got drunk, had hot sex, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”

  Shit! In my shock of seeing my uncle at one of these things, I’d completely forgotten the phony story we’d concocted. My parents would have laughed. My uncle, he so wouldn’t appreciate the humor.

  I groaned, then threw my uncle an apologetic little shrug. “Just ignore him. He says crazy stuff all the time when he’s forgotten to take his medicine. C’mon, Alex.” I tugged on his arm hard to yank him away from a glowering Uncle Hank, whose vein at the center of his forehead was now throbbing. Growing up, I used to say he was Hulking up when that happened.

  “What?” Alex whispered in my ear.

  I peeked at him from between my fingers. “When I gave you our story, I sort of forgot to mention it was to shock my parents only. I didn’t think anyone else would care where we’d met. And I definitely didn’t expect Uncle Hank to be here today. Just… you know, stay away from Uncle the rest of the day. He might bite.”

  His gorgeous face broke into a wide grin. “I’m here to please, Zoe.”

  The way he whispered my name, like he was tasting it, made me hot. Needy. How was I ever going to survive this lunch?

  The Jade Palace was bustling with locals who knew this was the only place in Austin to get the good stuff. But I couldn’t help wondering if maybe I should have prepared Alex a little more for what constituted good stuff—some Americans could be a little put off by the thought of eating barbequed chicken feet.

  The place wasn’t the classiest of places to eat out; the carpets were a red color that’d gone out of fashion two decades ago. The wallpaper was faded and peeling and there was no crystal hanging from the ceilings. You didn’t come here for the ambience, clearly.

  I leaned back into Alex while we walked to the large round table farthest back and closest to the kitchen doors. Mom’s special table. The one thing I could say about my mother was she could charm the socks off anybody if she really wanted to. Thirty years of loyalty meant she got the best seat, the one the master chef prepared the food for.

  “So there’s no more surprises,” I said, giving Alex a droll look, “don’t give that story to anyone but my mother and Obasaan, if she asks. Dad would probably kill you, come to think of it.”

  He touched a finger to the edge of my spine, tracing slowly up and down and filling my head with deliciously naughty thoughts.

  “Gotcha. Anything else?”

  I hadn’t told him what I was going to do here, but to make sure my mother really bought the sham of a relationship, I turned on my heel, wrapped my arms around his neck, and unloaded a kiss on him that I hoped made his toes curl. I shoved everything into it, my frustration, my desire, the aching longing I always felt when I was around him.

  His fingers found my waist, gripped tight, and squeezed. I’d stunned him for a second—I’d felt it in the stiffness of his lips—but he was recovering nicely. Then he was the aggressor, moving into me. The length of his body pressed snug to mine, so close there wasn’t an inch of space between us. His lip ring rubbed against me hard, and I couldn’t help the throaty noise that spilled from my mouth. I hadn’t lied when I’d told him how hot I thought they were. Lip rings were yummy, especially when moving across certain parts of a woman’s anatomy.

  The buzz of noise suddenly died down and that’s what finally made me pull away. Every eye in the place was staring at us. PDA in public—for shame. I smirked, supremely satisfied with myself, especially because his gunmetal eyes were now glassy and he was definitely breathing hard.

  “Now that’s everything.” I winked and took the final steps to the table.

  My father had his brow lifted. A slim, athletic man, he was the perfect antithesis to his brother. Where Uncle Hank’s hair was blond, Dad’s was a dark, wavy brown. While he worked out at the gym five times a week, I doubt Dad would even recognize a wrestling mat if he saw one. And when he spoke there was none of the country twang in it that was the characteristic trademark of his brother.

  “Young lady,” he said, standing, “was that necessary? You know what your mother will say.”

  I looked at the slim, modelesque woman who was standing beside him and smiled, taking in her perfectly manicured Chinese bob and stylish little black dress that showed off her sculpted calves in her thousand-dollar Jimmy Choo’s. “Hi, Mom. This is my boyfriend, Alex.” I yanked him into me, forcing him so tight to my side we could have passed as conjoined.

  My mother stood at the head of the table like some high-and-mighty peacock. She barely even spared Alex a glance, instead her jet-black gaze settled on me like hot coals. I was ten years old all over again, getting in trouble because I’d snuck out the window of my bedroom to go play catch with Jamie and this cute boy I’d been crushing on all through fifth grade.

  “Well, at least the mystery’s been solved,” Obasaan said, still sitting next to Mother’s chair. Her extremely tiny and hunched form was almost dwarfed by the thick pile of her pink satin dress. “Magomusume is clearly not a lesbian.”

  I loved my grandmother. Bringing my hands in front of my face, I bowed toward her and she inclined her head in return. Mother could only bristle, I’m sure hoping that for once her mother would just back her up. But where Mom was a tower in the storm, Obasaan was a feather drifting on the wind. Usually that wind blew directly my way.

  Grabbing Alex’s hand, I walked with him around the table, stopping briefly to plant a quick kiss on Gran’s rice-paper-soft skin. “Obasaan, this is Alex.”

  Her face was a map of lines, but her eyes were as sharp as any bird of prey. Alex stood steady under her inspection, a gentle smile gracing his lips, and I squeezed his fingers, my heart so proud of him in that moment I thought it might burst right out of me.

  “Come here, boy.” She crooked a gnarled finger.

  Dropping to a knee, he leaned over and she grabbed his jaw, turning it from one side to the other. He didn’t even flinch, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Actually, this was kind of funny, seeing him at the mercy of my tiny grandmother. Maybe it was wicked of me, how much I was enjoying this, but then again I never claimed to be a good little girl either.

  “You’ve a shifty look about you, Alex.”

  Grandmother’s accent was impeccable. She could break out in perfect Japanese, but when she spoke English no one would know she hadn’t been raised in the States.

  “Still,” sh
e continued, nodding her head firmly, “I like you.”

  Dropping her hand, she turned back around, and just like that, introductions had been made. Uncle Hank, it seemed, had gathered his composure once more and joined us, taking a seat next to Gran, patting her gnarled hand gently, eyeing Alex as we walked back around the table. Poor Alex—my uncle was going to hate him for life.

  Hank had never gotten married and had no kids. He was as protective of me as Daddy was. Not liking the way he cracked his knuckles while still watching my pseudo boyfriend, I opted to sit beside my mother, keeping Alex squarely between Dad and me. Just in case.

  The moment we sat, the carts bearing small plates of dim sum circled our table. My mom would nod at some, shake her head at others, and before we knew it the large table was brimming with food.

  The succulent scents of sweet shrimp and scallions, barbeque cha sui, soy sauce, and fried wonton tickled my nose. I groaned, mouth watering instantly.

  Alex’s eyes were wide, his fingers tapping the table as if with indecision.

  Everyone was respectful as they reached for the food with their chopsticks, even my adorably ham-fisted uncle. Grabbing the plate nearest me, I leaned into Alex.

  “This is cha sui bao. Steamed bun filled with Chinese barbeque pork. Really good.”

  Tossing me a grateful smile, he took a bun and bit into it. Steam poured out and he nodded, giving me the thumbs-up as he chewed.

  He finished his bun in three quick bites. “What else?”

  I smiled, liking that he was asking me. “You like shrimp?”

  “I guess. It’s all right.” He shrugged.

  “Obasaan, could you please pass me the har gau?”

  Mom was the one who wound up handing it to me; I thanked her with a tight smile. She didn’t even flit a lash. Still prickly as ever. My mother had a serious stick up her ass, I loved her dearly, but I’d have sworn—if I hadn’t known better—there was no way that woman made me.

  “This is a shrimp dumpling.” Using a chopstick, I placed a translucent morsel onto his plate. “It’s filled with pork and green onions and bamboo. It’s really good. It’s actually my favorite thing.”

  Alex grabbed the dumpling with his fingers. No one else noticed or cared, except of course for my mother. Her eagle eye latched on to what he was doing and her nose curled slightly. He must have noticed because his brows lowered and he dropped the dumpling.

  “Did I do something wrong?” he whispered.

  She didn’t get it. All my mother had ever wanted for me was the best. I knew that, which was why I didn’t hate her for being so incredibly overbearing, but what she didn’t understand and probably never would was that this was my life. I got to choose who I’d fall in love with, and it was probably awful to admit, but the more I knew she didn’t like it, the more I wanted it. I’d wanted Alex for years, her censure only made the wanting more urgent.

  I grabbed his thigh under the table. His entire body went stiff, the muscle under my hand twitched and I stroked him. “Do you know how to use chopsticks?” I whispered.

  “What?” He choked, then reached for his water. His hand shook just slightly.

  I smiled.

  “Chopsticks, vanilla. Do you know how to use them?”

  Swallowing, he set his glass down and turned to look at me. His eyes smoldered, and he literally seemed to be undressing me in front of God and everybody. I forgot about my mother, my uncle, Obasaan, even my father, who could easily drum up bogus charges on Alex to keep him locked up in a cell overnight. All of it receded to white noise in the background. I was lost in his silver-eyed gaze, and words bounced uselessly around my head like a moth riding a storm.

  “Yeah.” His voice was deep and guttural.

  I crossed my legs against the sudden tension throbbing between them, and when I spoke my voice was just as scratchy as his. “That’s how we do it in my house.”

  He picked up a set of chopsticks from the center of the table and slipped them out of the paper wrapper, then snapped them apart. “By the way,” he said as he picked up the dumpling with smooth efficiency, “you’ll pay for that later.”

  It was so wrong that I was totally turned on right then while my parents were sitting right there along with my little old grandmother, my growly uncle… but I just couldn’t help it.

  “So young man, what do you do exactly?”

  I winced at the sound of my father’s no-nonsense question. Obviously he hadn’t been impressed by my impromptu show of adoration, big surprise.

  Alex cleared his throat. “I go to school, sir.” His jaw clenched hard and immediately I wanted to hug him, wrap him up in my arms, glare at my parents, and pet him until he turned all flirty and sexy again.

  My father licked his front teeth, then popped another dumpling into his mouth, never taking his eyes off Alex’s face.

  Alex set down his chopsticks and I was so proud of my vanilla boy because he never batted a lash; I patted his back. Round one went to pseudo boyfriend.

  “How old are you, son?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  My mother’s sharp brows narrowed and I didn’t like that look. Didn’t like it at all. I knew it well, my old nemesis—it was the look of disdain. “Then shouldn’t you have graduated by this point?” she said, fake smile and prissy attitude firmly in place.

  I could literally hear Alex’s molars grinding. I frowned, wishing my parents would stop with the Spanish Inquisition already.

  He took a deep drink of water and then nodded. “Yes, but I took a year off. Needed time to think.”

  Mom’s eyes narrowed into thin slits; my father’s nostrils flared. Clearly they weren’t happy with that answer. Which really pissed me off; it was none of their business. Alex wasn’t my boyfriend, but even if he was, no one deserved to be treated that way.

  “Alex is brilliant,” I piped up. “You should really see his drawings. They’d put Caillebotte to shame.”

  Alex’s smile was genuine as he turned to face me and I could see the sparkle of surprise glitter in his silver eyes. I’d always admired his skill as an artist in high school—part of what had drawn me to him had been his artistic ability, that he and I had things in common, even if he hadn’t known I existed.

  “So, another art major. How wonderful,” my mother drawled and it was terrible. I really wanted to dump my glass of ice water on her head.

  “Gee, thanks, Mom. So great to know you approve of my career choice, yet again.” I smiled, but it was forced and she knew it.

  “Hobby, Misaki, hobby. You’ll wake up, and when you do, I’m sure your father could put in a good word for you with—”

  “Great. But no thanks.” I cut her off, the old arguments stirring up the fire in my heart all over again. To say Mom and I didn’t get along much anymore was an understatement.

  “Actually,” Alex interjected, squeezing my hand under the table, “I’m studying architecture. It helps to draw well, but it’s not a prerequisite of the career field.”

  My mother sniffed. Obasaan nodded, a smug little smile lacing her lips. She was enjoying this a little too much. But me, my heart had just melted and slid down somewhere along the region of my knees, because if I wasn’t mistaken, Alex had totally stepped in and taken the grenade for me.

  And that was just cool.

  “Hmm.” My father nodded, clearly impressed, but not yet ready to declare Alex suitable for his one and only wild child.

  “And how did you two meet?” Obasaan asked.

  Uncle Hank immediately went rigid and I groaned, already envisioning the explosion about to ensue. I loved to screw around with my mom, she expected it of me, but sitting here now, I wanted them to like Alex. No scratch that, I wanted them to love him. He opened his mouth, and I squeezed his fingers back.

  “It’s kind of a romance-story cliché actually.” I smiled, then turned to gaze at Alex’s surfer-blond hotness as my brain frantically sought out a plausible story. “I was coming out of Pilates and was jogging acros
s the street…”

  “To get your coffee fix, right, baby?” Alex’s lip quirked and yeah… wow, brain totally mush. Gah, the man was so freakin’ hot, like a walking Abercrombie & Fitch model. All I wanted to do was take him home, take him out of his clothes, and have my wicked, wicked way with him.

  “Yeah, right. You know what, sweetie, I always forget the rest. How about you tell them?”

  He squeezed my fingers. Hard. Yup, I’d probably pay for that later too. My heart raced at the deliciously naughty thoughts.

  “Yeah, you’re probably embarrassed… I understand. After all, I did have to come to your rescue,” he teased.

  “What?” My voice rose. “That’s not the way I remember it.”

  “Sure, pumpkin. Don’t you remember twisting your ankle so bad and me running to your rescue? I had to scoop you out of the road before you got run over by that cab.” The smug bastard was staring at me with a look that dared me to deny it.

  What the hell? Was he serious? My parents were never going to buy this load of crap. Scoop me out of the road? Jeez, did somebody have a hero fetish or what?

  “You never told us about that, Misaki.” Obasaan wagged her finger.

  “Really? Well, it must have completely escaped my mind.” I turned wide eyes on Alex’s beaming face. Bastard.

  That’s what I got for letting him take over the story.

  Grandmother giggled, but Uncle Hank was still glowering. He obviously didn’t buy the whole damsel-in-distress shtick. Smart guy, my uncle.

  “Then when are you graduating?” My mother’s cold voice broke through my warm fuzzies. It took a second for me to realize what she was even talking about.

  “Haha, leave him alone.” I hoped that by using her Japanese pet name, I’d make her back off, but no such luck. She never even twisted my way. Her hard eyes stay glued to his face.

  Alex licked his lips. “Not for another year, ma’am. Like I said, I took the year off to… deal with some things.”

  I’m not violent by nature, and I might look scary to a two-year-old child, but deep down I have a heart of gold. But right then, I totally wanted to punch something. Why were my parents giving him such grief? Shouldn’t they have just been happy to finally see me with someone? Granted, he wasn’t technically my anything, but they didn’t know that.