“I’ll take care of it.” Joy dug inside her purse for a concealer stick.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” Mom went on. “You miss events, you show up late, you refuse to entertain our guests, and now this. Are you trying to cost your father the election?”
Joy tried covering the bruise, but the makeup wouldn’t hold because she’d begun to sweat. “Look, I’m sorry about the hickey, but I’m done whoring myself out to Daddy’s campaign contributors.”
Mom recoiled as if she’d been slapped. “We never asked that of you!”
“The fact that I never slept with them is irrelevant,” Joy said. “I felt like a commodity.”
“Here, give me that.” Mom took the concealer and dabbed at Joy’s neck, alternately blowing on her skin to dry the perspiration. “At least one thing makes sense. You haven’t been coming around because you’re seeing someone. Who is he?”
Joy pressed her lips together, unsure of what to say. Mom would never understand that Ryan was a wonderful man. She wouldn’t be impressed that he’d made his own way—built a successful life out of practically nothing. She’d hear “tattoo artist” and “orphaned son of two alcoholics,” and then the lectures would really begin.
No, thanks.
“He’s nobody you know,” Joy said.
Mom narrowed her gaze as if trying to peer inside Joy’s head. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“You don’t have to like it,” Joy told her mother. It felt good to find her backbone—and use it. The spirits of her ancestors were probably smiling down at her. “You’re not the one dating him.”
Surprisingly, Mom didn’t bat an eye. “What does he do for a living?”
“He owns a business.”
“What kind of business?”
“That’s not important.”
“Of course it is,” Mom said. “In some states, selling marijuana is a legal business. That doesn’t mean I want my daughter mixed up in it.”
Joy rolled her eyes. “He’s not a drug dealer.”
“Well, there’s something you’re not telling me.” Mom inspected the bruise one last time before handing back Joy’s concealer. “Which means there’s something wrong with him.” She pressed a hand to her heart while her mouth dropped into an oval. “Oh, heavens. He’s not . . . a democrat, is he?”
Joy couldn’t help bursting into laughter. From the sharp pitch of Mom’s voice, you’d think she was describing a serial killer who moonlighted as a porn star. “No. Actually, he’s a libertarian.”
Mom made a sour face. “That’s no better.” She straightened Joy’s pearl choker and announced, “I want to meet him.”
“No. It’s too soon.” Not only would her parents birth a cow when they caught a glimpse of Ryan’s full-sleeve tattoos, but they wouldn’t hide their distaste. Ryan deserved better. She refused to subject him to their scrutiny. “Maybe after the election, when things calm down.”
Mom seemed to process that for a while. When she finally spoke, her voice was gentle in a way Joy hadn’t heard since she was a little girl. It reminded her of the time Mom had caught her secretly harboring a stray kitten in the attic . . . only it wasn’t a cat. It was a possum. And when the animal had turned on Joy, Daddy came to the rescue, chasing it all over the attic until he trapped it beneath a blanket. After a round of rabies shots for the whole family, her parents had said they were proud of her compassion, but that wild animals belonged outside. Then Daddy had surprised her the next day with a puppy from the shelter.
“Just remember something,” Mom said. “Your father has wanted this for as long as I’ve known him. It’s his passion to shape the future of this country. But he’s only up in the polls by two points, and it won’t take much to knock him out of the race.”
Joy glanced down at the tips of her shoes. She didn’t need another reminder that her actions could cost Daddy his dream. “I know.”
“I don’t think you do,” Mom said. “Last month one of his opponents posted a picture of me online. I was coming out of the grocery store with two bottles of chardonnay for Bunco night, but he spun it like I was some kind of pampered lush.”
“I’m sure nobody believed that.” Joy understood the harsh reality of mudslinging, but she had faith that the majority of voters were intelligent enough to recognize propaganda when they saw it.
“Oh, no?” Mom delivered a serious look. “Until then, your father was up five points in the polls.” She tucked a stray hair behind Joy’s ear. “When I married into politics, I knew what I was getting into. Unlike me, you never had a choice. It’s not fair, princess. And I know it’s not easy. But every little thing we do—or don’t do—matters.”
Joy dropped her gaze. Her cheeks burned every bit as hot as the day she’d watched animal control remove her “cat.” She couldn’t believe she’d been so careless as to show up at the rally sporting a visible hickey. She had no intention of breaking up with Ryan, but for Daddy’s sake, she needed to show some discretion.
“I love your father,” Mom said. “And I want him to succeed.”
“I do, too.”
“So we have an understanding?”
Joy nodded.
“Good,” Mom said. “Now let’s go out there and support your daddy.”
“You go ahead.” Joy hooked a thumb at the bathroom stall. Suddenly the wetness between her thighs wasn’t so titillating anymore. “I need to freshen up a little, then I’ll be right out.”
• • •
“Did anyone see you?” Joy darted a glance into the hall while ushering Ryan inside her apartment. In her haste to shut the door, she accidentally pinched his backside.
“Ouch.” Ryan rubbed his butt while handing her a bag of Chinese takeout. “This cloak and dagger stuff is getting dangerous.”
“Sorry, babe,” she said. “I’ll kiss it later—and any other body parts you want.”
That seemed to put some pep in his step when he strode into the living room to load the Blu-Ray player. Joy smiled to herself. For an easygoing guy like Ryan, there wasn’t a problem in the world that couldn’t be fixed with a little extra lovin’ between the sheets. Or on the sofa. He wasn’t picky.
And she owed him some serious gratitude nookie.
Ever since the rally two weeks ago, he’d bent over backward to keep their sleepovers a secret, even going so far as to circle the block and park in front of a different building each night. She hated asking him to sneak around, but after what happened to Mom, an open affair wasn’t worth the risk.
“What are we watching?” she asked.
Ryan joined her in sitting cross-legged on the rug, then helped unpack their dinner onto the coffee table. “Frankenfish.”
“Excellent choice.” This story was set in the bayou, so the familiar sights and sounds made it seem more real than the others. “But it’s the scariest one.”
“I know.” After pressing play, he leaned back against the base of the sofa and extended an arm. “Assume the position.”
Joy snuggled against him, and when the first fisherman became a meal, she hid her face in Ryan’s shoulder. He chuckled with obvious male pride, wrapping both arms around her until the gory part was over.
“I’m beginning to think you enjoy my distress,” she said, teasingly poking him in the ribs. “Now I know why we never watch chick flicks.”
“You busted me, Cupcake.” He tightened his embrace. “This is my second favorite thing to do when I’m with you.”
“Oh, yeah?” she asked. “What’s your favorite?”
A crooked grin curved his lips. “Enjoying your sparkling conversation, of course.”
“Of course.”
He lowered his mouth to hers, and before long, they quit caring about Frankenfish—or their dinner. Untouched cartons of pork fried rice grew cold as they peeled off each other’s clothes a
nd made love right there on the floor.
Three earth-quaking orgasms later, Joy collapsed atop Ryan’s chest, still straddling his hips as she panted for air. “Have you noticed we can never make it through a whole movie anymore?”
He trailed his fingertips over her naked back, bringing chills to the surface of her skin. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Definitely not a bad thing.”
They rolled onto their sides like spoons and resumed watching Frankenfish, but several minutes passed between them in silence. Ryan didn’t laugh at the absurdity of an air-breathing fish or crack jokes about who was next to die.
That wasn’t like him.
Joy squeezed their linked fingers. “Where’d you go?”
“Sorry. Just thinking.”
“About?”
He hesitated for so long that Joy began replaying their conversation to make sure she hadn’t said anything to upset him. Finally, Ryan asked, “Remember when you said I should buy tickets to that band we like?”
She nodded.
“They sold out. But I wanted to surprise you for our next month-a-versary, so I got us tickets for a sunset dinner cruise on the Belle.”
Joy turned to face him, a smile already forming on her lips. “That’s great!”
“Is it?” Ryan didn’t sound convinced. He propped on one elbow and looked her directly in the eyes. “Because you’ll have to be seen with me. In public. Can you handle that?”
The edge of resentment in his voice caught her off guard. Clearly she’d hurt him. Her heart broke at the notion that Ryan believed she was ashamed of him. Nothing could be farther from the truth. “Do you think I’m afraid to be seen with you? Because I promise that’s not it.”
“You say that, but your words don’t match your actions.”
“What actions?”
He cocked his head at her. “You practically slammed my ass in the door when I got here.”
“Okay, so I’m a little paranoid after what happened to my mom,” she conceded. “But that has nothing to do with how I feel about you.”
“I don’t mind keeping our sex life private. That makes sense. But we haven’t gone out to dinner—or anywhere else—for weeks.” Ryan jutted his chin at their neglected supper. “We hole up in your apartment and eat takeout every single night. What am I supposed to think?”
Joy opened her mouth to defend herself, but found that she couldn’t summon any words to refute his argument. Because he’d made an excellent point. By hiding from her father’s opponents, she’d let the enemy win. And she’d wounded Ryan in the process. She cared deeply for her father and for Ryan, but pleasing them both seemed impossible. There had to be a middle ground.
“You’re right.” She rose onto one elbow to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry.”
His brows shot up. “Really?”
“I was overreacting.” Joy cupped his cheek. “If anything, you should be afraid to be seen with me. Not the other way around.”
He flashed a hopeful grin. “So we can go?”
“You’re too good to me.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Of course we will—I can’t wait. This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me.” She glanced at their untouched pork fried rice. “Feel like going out right now? You’re not the only one who’s getting sick of Chinese. I’ll spring for a proper dinner.”
Ryan shook his head, and before she had a chance to say another word, he rotated her beneath him. His smile was delightfully wicked when he dipped his lips to hers. “Might as well stay in since we’re already naked. And if I’m not mistaken, you promised to kiss me wherever I want.”
“I sure did.” It would take a lot of kisses to undo the damage she’d done. Fortunately, she loved making Ryan feel better. She slid her arms around his waist and pulled him close. “Just show me where it hurts.”
Chapter 8
“Hey, Ryan. You coming to poker?”
Ryan rooted around inside the fridge for a carton of orange juice, nearly dropping his phone and the call to his friend in the process. “Naw, man. I’m taking Joy out tonight for our three-month.”
“Your three-month?” Paul asked. His voice was thick with amusement. “You go, girl!”
Ryan cringed, instantly regretting he’d let that slip. “Shut up.”
“Don’t get your ovaries in a twist,” his friend teased. “Tell me what you’re gonna wear!”
“How about your ass on my boot? I think that would look great.”
Paul laughed. “You’re so touchy.” Then he muttered, “Must be that time of the month.”
After chugging a few sips of cold juice straight from the carton, Ryan told his buddy to do something physically impossible to himself.
“You know I’m just screwing with you,” Paul said. “Congrats, man. I didn’t think you and Joy would make it this long.”
Ryan wrinkled his forehead. “Thanks, I guess.”
“No offense or anything. I just can’t picture you rubbing elbows with her stuffy old man.” Paul belched into the phone like the classy guy he was. “That dude scares the bejeebus out of me. I think it’s his smile. His lips move, but his eyes are empty.”
“That’s the Botox.”
“Whatever. It’s creepy,” Paul said. “So what do her folks think of you?”
Ryan cleared the thickness that had suddenly developed inside his throat. He wanted to blame the juice, but he knew better. “I . . . uh . . . haven’t met them.”
“Still?”
“It’s no big deal,” Ryan said. “She hasn’t met my parents, either.” Never mind that his fosters had retired to Florida while Joy’s folks were right here in town.
“But she introduced you to her friends, right?” Paul asked. “Did they like you? ’Cause that’s the real litmus test, right there. If the friends hate you, your days are numbered.”
Ryan took another swig of juice and let the silence answer for him.
“You haven’t met her friends?” Paul asked. When a few more quiet seconds ticked by, he made a sympathetic grunting noise. “Sorry, man. Tough break. I know you’re really into her.”
“Things are fine.”
“Dude, if she hasn’t made the relationship public, it probably means she’s playing with you. Maybe she got bored and you’re a new flavor of man candy.”
“Did you actually just say man candy?”
“Think about it. She’s already met most of your friends.”
“Only because you came to the shop while she was there,” Ryan pointed out. “It’s not like I arranged an introduction.”
“Look, I’m just sayin’ be prepared. Because it sounds an awful lot like a fuck-and-chuck.”
“No way.” If all Joy wanted was casual sex, she wouldn’t have stuck around for three months. “It’s not like that. She’s just lying low until after the election.”
“Okay, bro.” Despite backing down, the tone of Paul’s voice said he wasn’t convinced. “I hope you get what you want.”
After they said good-bye and disconnected, Ryan shook off his friend’s words. Things with Joy were going better than ever, and he refused to look for trouble where it didn’t exist. Instead, he finished the carton of juice and strode to the shower to get ready for their date.
• • •
“Excuse me, sir?” The ship’s purser handed Ryan a souvenir cardboard frame showcasing a cartoon replica of the Belle of the Bayou. In bold lettering, it promised Memories to Last a Lifetime! “Here’s your photo.”
Joy scurried around to his side of the dinner table, and together they laughed at their digital print. Ryan’s eyes were closed, and a gust of wind had swept Joy’s hair across her face, making her resemble Cousin It from The Addams Family. Only their toothy smiles were visible as they cradled a round life preserver betw
een them. The picture was horrible and cheesy and worth every penny of the fifteen dollars Ryan had spent on it. Because it proved what he’d already known—he and Joy were happy.
Man candy, my ass.
“This is going on the wall in my shop,” he said. “I might even have it tattooed somewhere on my body.”
Joy tipped back her pretty blond head and laughed into the air, oblivious to the curious gazes she’d drawn from the other diners. She made a show of examining the Samoan art inked onto his forearms. “I don’t think you have a space big enough for anything this awesome.”
“For you, I’ll make room. I’ve got a few inches somewhere.”
“Oh, honey,” Joy said with a wink. “You’ve got a lot more than a few inches.”
Glancing around to make sure nobody would see, he delivered a playful smack on her bottom and sent her back to the other side of the table. “You’ve got a dirty mind tonight. Not that I’m complaining.”
“What?” she asked, blinking innocently as she lowered to her seat. “I was talking about the free space on your lower back.”
“Uh-huh.” He wasn’t buying it.
“And anyway, I think I should have the picture. It’ll look great in my office.”
“No way.” He made a lightning grab for the frame at the same time as Joy, and they tugged it back and forth.
“Okay, joint custody,” she said. “It’s too amazing not to share.”
Ryan pretended to consider her request. “All right. We’ll let the universe decide who gets it first.”
“Rock-paper-scissors?”
“You know it.”
They threw down right there at the table, and Ryan defeated Joy in a landslide. It was easy because he knew all her moves. She always picked rock on the first round. After some good-natured trash talking, he tucked the picture inside his breast pocket.
“Want to go sit outside?” he asked. “Looks like dinner won’t be ready for a while.”
Joy agreed, and they strode to the expansive main deck.
It was the perfect spring evening, warm but not muggy with just enough breeze rolling off the Mississippi to keep the mosquitoes at bay. The sun had slid below the horizon, casting a pink glow across the sky that reflected on the glassy river. From the rear of the boat, a massive paddlewheel turned a lazy rotation and filled the air with the lullaby of churning water. Ryan absorbed the sensations, musing that perhaps he’d been a riverboat captain in a previous life, because he felt like he belonged there.
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