by Cari Quinn
“Shut up.”
His younger brother clapped his hand on Nate’s shoulder. “A man that has—” He cut off and cleared his throat as their mother gave him a shriveling stare. “Uh, found the chemistry portion of the relationship has a look. Either you got some or you were about to and were denied.”
“Matthew!”
Matt hunched his shoulders. “C’mon, Ma, you want grandkids out of this slob, he’s gotta do the making of the babies.”
“After marriage, Nathan.”
“Jeez.” Nate stood up and headed to the fridge for a beer. At his mother’s disapproving glare at the alcohol, he popped the top and stayed in the kitchen, taking a deep swallow. His mother didn’t like alcohol at the table for whatever reason. Questioning her only brought bible scripture and discourse on the evils of men. He was pretty sure half of it was just to keep them in line. At this point his mother should know that she was far scarier than hell could ever be.
“Oh my God, you got her pregnant!”
Nathan choked on his beer at his mother’s screech.
“Serves you right, no beer at dinner,” she said.
“Mandy, our son wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that. Jacky does those things.”
Nate sighed. Never a boring night at the Crosses’. “Jacky proposed way before he married Melanie, Pops, don’t start that stuff up again.”
“They had that baby eight months after the wedding!” his father groused, swiftly making the sign of the cross.
Matt slung his arm over the back of the chair, stretching his legs out. He and his brother were the same height, though Matt took after the sandy-haired, blue-eyed side of the family like their mother. “Pop, that’s what we call a home run honeymoon, not blasphemy. How many times do we need to go over this?”
Nate shook his head, blocking the ongoing debate about his cousin’s family. Big Mike never shied away from giving his opinion, especially when it came to his idea of what was right.
He left his beer on the counter and returned to the table, ignoring his mother’s worried stare as he picked around his baked potato. He was hoping the comfort and routine of dinner at his folks’ house would ease the restlessness he’d been feeling since his night with Miranda.
Nothing had worked out as planned. He’d gone over there to talk and maybe convince her to go out with him again. Instead he’d gotten laid. He should be happy about it. In fact, he was an ass even overthinking it. Being more wound up than when he’d started at the dance club earlier in the week was beyond stupid, but there it was.
Now, not only was his head a mess, his dick was just as confused.
Disgusted with himself and the situation, he tuned in to the conversation at the table. “Wait, you’re heading to L.A.?”
Matt fisted a hand on either side of his plate. “Yeah, it’s for a week-long showcase, but hell, it’d be nice to have a steady paycheck for once and not worry about tips at the bar.”
“O’Reilly’s has been good to you, boy,” his father muttered.
“No doubt about it, Pop, but people aren’t hanging out in the bars like they used to. Times are tough and giving me a decent tip isn’t high on the priority list. Music only coughs up money if you’re out there performing.”
Amanda laced her fingers into a tight ball. “But the album’s doing so well.”
“Yeah, it is for the record company, but we only see a portion of that and then it’s divided by four…”
Mike looked up from his meal. “Do you need—”
“No, no, Pop. I’m good. I’d just like to actually make a living at something I love to do.”
Amanda slid her hand across the table and patted Matt’s hand. “Of course you do and of course you will. I’ll say a rosary for you.”
In a rare show of affection, Matt lifted his mom’s hand for a quick kiss. “I’ll take two.”
She laughed and cupped his cheek. “How I ended up with a musician in this family, I’ll never know.”
“Why not? We have a cop and the next Einstein in our midst. The only normal kid is Noah.” Mike scooped up a forkful of snap beans.
Nate snorted but didn’t correct his dad. Not about Luke and definitely not about himself. Einstein had more than one idea, whereas he was dead in the water. “Where is Noah anyway?”
“Still at the shop. Some computerized POS broke down over at O’Reilly’s.” Mike waggled his eyebrows. “Pretty thing though.”
“Car or the girl?”
“The girl,” Mike harrumphed. “I don’t understand these new cars. What’s wrong with a good Chevy?”
“It’s killing the planet,” Nate replied.
Matt propped his head on his hand. “God, I miss my Impala.”
Amanda stood and knocked his elbow off the table before picking up his plate to stack it on hers. “Manners, Matthew Francis.”
Matt grinned up at their mother. “Sorry.”
“If only I believed you.”
Elbowing his brother in the head, Nate swiped the bowl of vegetables off the table and followed his mother to the sink. He automatically reached for a Tupperware dish from the cupboard next to the fridge.
“So you met a girl?”
He shook his head with a laugh. “I should know better.”
His mom scraped the leftovers into the plastic container. “You should. For once don’t make me dig it out of you, baby.”
He leaned against the fridge and rubbed his temple. “She’s a web designer, even has her own business over on Grant. Her name is Miranda.”
“And why is she making you frown already?”
He opened his eyes and laughed, wrapping his arms around her. “God, I love ya, Ma. From Spanish Inquisition to pit bull in a blink.” He pressed his nose into the crown of her hair, breathing her in. Dove soap and Wind Song. He’d been buying that perfume for his mother since he was ten. Sometimes the steady was just what he needed.
She looped her arms around his waist and hugged him back. “Am I going to like her?”
“Jury’s still out on that one.” He let her go, leaning back on the counter. “I like her a lot, but she’s not an easy woman to get to know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Hell—heck,” he quickly corrected, “I’ve never had to work so hard just to get a woman to talk to me.”
She flattened the turned-up collar of his shirt and patted his chest. “Baby, if you didn’t have to work for something, how would you know if it’s special or not?”
There was work, then there was a concussion. He covered her hand and kissed her forehead. “Thanks, Mom. I’m just getting to know her. We’ll see how it goes.”
“Sex is easy, Nate.”
He winced. “Ma!”
“What? You think I brought four boys into this world and didn’t enjoy a few of those times making you guys?”
He held up a hand. “Yeah, yeah—color me informed, can we move on?” The thought of his parents and naked was enough to churn up the meatloaf he’d managed to eat.
She laughed. “What comes after the sex is the hard part. A woman feels vulnerable and sometimes even a little too off balance. If she’s already got some issues,” she tapped a short nail into his chest, “well, that may just amplify the regular fears a woman has.”
He smiled. “So cut her a break?” Was he pushing too hard? Coming on too strong, maybe?
“Maybe just a touch.”
He shook his head, kissing her cheek. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“Of course I am.”
“Of course you are,” Nate agreed with a laugh.
“In the latest Where’s MJ sighting, we’ve received a tip that she might be in Belize. As you can see, the photo is a little grain—”
Nate flicked off his television. Jesus. Who the hell cared if some whacked-out socialite wanted to disappear for a few years? She was probably healing from some crazy plastic surgery that made her look like the other famous MJ. Like the world needed two?
Stepping out onto his veranda, he sipped
his coffee as the world started to wake up. No matter how late he stayed up some nights, dawn was his favorite time of the day. Watching the fog roll over the Bay Bridge as the mountains slowly melted into view— God, there wasn’t anything sweeter.
A pair of golden-green eyes probably came a close second though. He took a deep swallow from his mug and called himself ten times the fool as the liquid scalded its way down his throat. One night with her and he couldn’t get her out of his head.
Hell, not even a full night. She’d allowed him close enough to get naked, but something told him even that was probably less than a scratch on the surface of the complicated Miranda. This woman didn’t let people get close. Like the ever rolling fog in San Francisco, the lust had faded into stark reality. And Miranda didn’t seem to like him in any part of her reality.
The fact that he’d gotten her to go out with him again was a feat in itself. If he’d sounded even an ounce more desperate he’d have had to hand over his nuts to the woman. “Christ,” he muttered, jerking his sliding door closed.
Dumping his coffee into his travel mug, he chased it with the rest of the pot and lifted an armload of boxes. He’d had an unusual bump in orders for his Thumb Lock invention in the last three months. If it kept up, he’d have to increase production and possibly find a distributor. It was getting harder to send out his own orders, even when he worked for FedEx.
He grabbed his knapsack with a change of clothes on his way out the door. A relatively quick drive into work gave him a spare minute to send out some of his orders. He headed into the warehouse, bypassing the lockers for the small customer service center. Thankfully the girl who usually ran the desk was out. He was too tired to fend off her newfound fascination with him. What was it about hooking up with a girl that made the rest of the female population suddenly grow some interest?
It wasn’t even as if it was full-blown serious with Miranda, but he’d been interested in her for so long that the thought of screwing it up made his coffee roil in his gut. Smiling at the older woman who worked part time, he paid for his charges and tucked in his uniform shirt as he jogged to the back to load up his truck.
Scanning his orders for the day, he wasn’t sure if he was pleased or disappointed that he didn’t have a package for Miranda…skip that, a small parcel for RbyR was listed at the end of his order form with her address. Shuffling the route in his head, he put her near the top of his late-morning schedule and slammed his truck closed.
Impatient to see her again, he rushed through the list, biting back a frustrated growl when traffic pushed his timing back. The city just had to start road work on Montgomery and now it was a clusterfuck. The Financial District was a pain in the ass on a good day. By the time he’d made his way to her neighborhood it was well into the lunch rush. Taking a chance, he double-parked and snagged grapes, a mini loaf of sourdough and a chunk of aged Brie from Fertelli’s and pulled around the corner from her building.
Wine would probably have been a good idea, but it was the middle of the workday and he didn’t know what the hell to buy. He was a beer guy. Making a pit stop at the Sunny Days flower shop on the street level of her building, he snagged a bright pink daisy-looking flower at the door.
“You’re early, Nate.”
He winced. “I really hate being predictable, Jade.”
“Predictable isn’t a bad thing. Now…who’s the lunch and the flower for?”
He twirled the bloom and took a deep sniff. “Who do you think it’s for?”
She thought for a minute, spinning the wide silver band on her thumb. “Ryleigh?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know Ryleigh. Does she work for Miranda?”
Jade nodded. “She’s got that quirky look that you’d probably go for. And she’s my sister.”
“Sorry, but it’s the librarian look that I’m all about.”
She plopped down on her chair. “Miranda? Really?”
“Yeah.” He propped his forearms on her counter and leaned in. “Why?”
“I mean she’s my landlady, and I don’t have any problems with her or anything.”
Nate’s eyebrows shot up. “Landlady? She owns the building?”
She stood, gathering blooms for an arrangement she’d obviously been working on. “Yep.” With quiet efficiency she snipped ends and stabbed the flowers in randomly. At least it looked random, but he had a feeling that she knew exactly what she was doing. Roses mixed with other wildflower-type stalks. It shouldn’t have worked, but the simple elegance emerged with a few deft flicks of her fingers.
“Don’t get me wrong, Miranda’s…nice enough.”
Well, at least she wasn’t standoffish only with him. He wasn’t sure if he should be elated or insulted that he wasn’t special in the least.
“Why are you smirking?”
Nate pressed his lips together and stood up straight. “I like your PC version of the truth.”
Jade flushed. “We’ll just say she’s not the friendliest of people. It’s not like she’s rude, she just keeps to herself. I get a hello if she comes down for a meeting or a run with Stella, but she doesn’t stay and chat.”
The woman was curiouser and curiouser. “I’m hoping to figure out all those things about her. But give her a chance, I honestly don’t think she has many friends. She’s a workaholic to say the least.”
“I’ll remember that.” She lifted a branch of baby’s breath and twined it around the daisy with some sort of green tape. “There, now take it up to her and surprise her with lunch.”
He grinned. “What do I owe you?”
“Nothing, the gossip was payment enough. Good luck, Nate.”
Too keyed up to wait for the elevator, he hit the stairs three at a time. Rapping on her door, he heard one sharp bark then Miranda’s half-smile blurred the rest of his thought process. So much so that Stella got the jump on him and their lunch. Nate lifted the bag a second before it became Purina and was knocked on his ass for his trouble.
“Stella, sit!” Miranda said sharply. Stella wiggled and whined, but plopped her big butt down just inside the doorjamb. “I’m sorry, Nate.” She crouched down, her knees peeking out from a swishy pink skirt. His gaze tracked her bare legs all the way down to her painted red toenails buried in the carpet.
“I was going to surprise you with breakfast, but it ended up being lunch.” He held the bag and the slightly bent flower up to her. “Interested?”
His smirk spread into a smile as she automatically leaned into the bright pink flower and gave it a quick sniff. “I guess I have to, now that my dog tossed your dignity out the window.”
He dropped the bag, twining his fingers in her hair. “Damn dog,” he said softly. Behind the dark rims of her glasses, he watched her eyes deepen just before she licked her lower lip. Invitation accepted, he thought, and then forgot to think at all. She tasted like iced tea and peaches. Keeping the kiss as light as possible, he brushed first her lips with his, then his tongue savored her.
When he heard a wolf whistle from inside her office, he broke away from her. “Sorry,” he said lightly.
She pushed her glasses up her nose, swallowing audibly before she plucked the flower out of his fingers and stood. “No you’re not.”
He got to his feet. “Nope, not really.”
“Well, c’mon in,” she said and took the flower to her desk.
He followed her inside, leaving the door open just in case. He smiled and waved at Max, and folded his hands over his belt with her package when he grinned widely. “Hi, Max.”
“I knew you could do it,” Max said in a whisper as he covered the mouthpiece of his phone.
Miranda turned around, the flower stashed in the water bottle on her desk. Rolling her eyes as her employees stared at her expectantly, she elbowed him. Nate swallowed a snicker. “Ryleigh, Leo—this is Nate. Max has already had the pleasure.”
Max hung up his phone. “And that it was. Hiya, special delivery guy.”
Wondering just how much Mirand
a had said about him, he couldn’t stop the laugh. “Nice to meet you all.”
“Believe me, we’re very excited to see you,” Ryleigh piped in.
Not sure how to respond to that, he grinned. “I’m excited to be seen.”
Ryleigh’s dark hair was cinched back in two thick purple rubber bands at the top of her head, with a matching eyebrow piercing. The rest of her was decked out in unrelieved black from neck to her Doc Martens. He couldn’t help the smile when he saw a flash of that same purple skimmed her waist with a chunky buckle. Japanime meets San Francisco.
Now he knew why Jade thought she was his type. Maybe a few years ago she would have been. Hell, a lot of women had been on his radar before Miranda. He glanced at the woman in question. A simple gray tank hugged her slim form, stretching across her hips with a thin pink belt accentuating her tiny waist.
Soft and feminine, you wouldn’t think that a siren’s tattoo hid under all that pretty cotton. That was Miranda—a constant dichotomy.
Leo stood by the window, watchful and silent as he paced in front of the wall of windows. The same windows that led to the veranda that had sealed his fate the other night.
So, she had a poster child for anime, a Ken doll protector, and a guy that should have been a model. It was the most unorthodox set of employees he’d ever seen.
“I’m going to take a lunch. I’ll be back in a while.” She glanced at Ryleigh. “If anyone calls, take a message.”
“You got it.”
“You should be proud, Nate. She hasn’t taken a lunch for herself in at least three years,” Max pointed out.
Miranda blushed and signed for her package, dropping the box on her desk without looking at it. “Why don’t we go eat upstairs?” She slipped into flip-flops and patted Stella on the head.
“Is that a euphemism for a nooner?” Max called out.
Ignoring her coworker, she opened the door and waited for him. She seemed softer, her smile almost shy as he pulled the door closed behind them. He followed her down the hall to a wide window that led to the fire escape. “It’s a nice afternoon, do you mind eating up on my roof?”
“Alone?”
She looked over her shoulder and stepped through the open window. “Is that a problem?” she asked, her gaze meeting his for a moment before she disappeared. He peeked out the window, forcing himself to ignore the very hard pavement that showed between the slats of the stairs. The wrought iron was sturdy, but obviously old. She climbed with sure-footed grace, making him wonder just how many times she took that route.