“We’ll head into town later today. Nothing opens until 11 AM on Sundays,” I inform him after reading the silent questions streaming from his eyes. “We’ll get a few items crossed off your list before Luca’s memorial this afternoon.”
He's worried I've forgotten why we're in Texas. I haven't. But with a massive hole in my chest in desperate need of filling, unearthing my stalker’s identity isn't my utmost priority right now. That’s what my whole “you’ve seen mine; now I get to see yours” routine was about. Alex saw me at my most vulnerable last night. I wanted to even the playing field.
It isn’t that I don’t appreciate the comfort he offered me; I’m just not exactly sure how to handle it. Excluding my family, I haven’t relied on anyone like I did Alex yesterday. Not even Isaac has seen my vulnerable side.
I’m grateful Alex didn’t remove all his beard when he leans in to whisper in my ear. The wiry hairs on his face tickle my earlobe as his manly scent stimulates my libido. “I don’t think your mom will ever look me in the eye again after the stunt you pulled.”
A groan rumbles in my chest when a coffee cup steals the dedication of his lips. He takes a generous gulp of my lukewarm brew as he peers at my mom over the rim of the mug. Although he isn’t a fan of my unsweetened with a dash of milk concoction, with the coffee pot sitting on the counter just to the left of my mom, he’s willing to sacrifice taste if it keeps awkwardness at bay.
It’s a shame I’m not as diplomatic. “My mom isn’t avoiding eye contact because she’s embarrassed about what she saw.” Alex’s eyes drift to mine. They are brimming with confusion. “She’s too busy reimagining the image to worry about what your face is doing.”
My laughter snags halfway out my throat when a dishcloth smacks me in the face. I was so caught up relishing Alex’s inflamed cheeks and wide eyes, I failed to notice my mom rejoining us at the breakfast bar. She heard everything I said, and she isn’t the least bit humiliated.
“I can’t be mad at her. It’s true,” she mutters under her breath as she slips a plate of food in front of Alex. “I just haven’t decided what to tell Hayden yet. Should I make out it was an accident, or pretend you got a little cocky while the men were away?” Her smile switches to a half-smirk, half-sneer. “I should probably phrase it better. Little and cocky can’t be used together to describe what I saw.”
“Mom!” I grab the dishcloth from my empty plate to toss it over to her side of the counter. “Daddy would have a coronary if he heard you say that. Or worse. . . he’d take you over his knee!”
Alex looks a little unwell when my mom whispers, “Oh god, I hope so.”
Confident she’s locked my libido into a deep, dark cave far, far away from here, my mom exits the kitchen.
Five minutes later, I can still hear her laughing.
I stop glaring at her through a wall when Alex murmurs, “You could never be accused of being adopted.”
I laugh. “No chance in hell. Although, I’m reasonably sure at some stage in my childhood I wished I were.”
Alex sets down the strip of bacon he’s in the process of consuming to interrogate me without words.
“It wasn’t anything bad, just the standard stuff every family goes through. At the time, I didn’t understand why I couldn’t have a two hundred dollar party dress and a tennis bracelet for my thirteenth birthday. It was only when I started paying my own bills did I understand all the issues that came with being an adult.”
“Such as, money doesn’t grow on trees?” Alex asks with a smile.
“Precisely! It was a disappointing blow when I learned that one.”
He laughs before he returns to chewing on a salty strip of meat produced on the very land we’re standing on.
“What about you? How many times did you threaten to run away when you were a teen?”
He dabs away the grease pooled in the corner of his mouth with a napkin before twisting his torso to face me. “None.”
My elbow and his rib become friendly for the third time this morning. “Come on! Every teen believes they deserve better than they’re getting. It’s the way they’re wired.”
Alex’s shoulder touches his ear when he shrugs. “I’m not saying that isn’t true; I just knew my threat would do me no good, so I didn’t bother.”
When I peer at him, utterly confused, he adds on, “My father works in a similar industry as me. If I skipped so much as half a lesson at school, he knew it, and I paid for the consequences of my actions that very afternoon.”
I screw up my nose. “That must have been tough? Just like unrealistic expectations, every teen deserves to skip a period or three. It’s a rite of passage.”
Alex shrugs again. “In some ways it sucked, but in others, it was beneficial. It made me the disciplined man I am now.”
My nose screws up even more. “You say that like it is a good thing.”
“Are you saying it isn’t?” He asks his question without the angst I expected. He’s enjoying our conversation as much as I am. “Discipline has its place in every environment.”
I wait for him to dump his napkin onto his half-consumed breakfast before halfheartedly shrugging. “I guess, but a less disciplined man would have kissed me by now.”
What the hell?That was not what I was planning to say. I’m glad I couldn’t hold back when my honesty causes a blistering smile to stretch across Alex’s handsome face.
