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I hate making him feel like there is something wrong with him, because there isn’t, because he is wonderful just as he is. He’s just wrong for me in this time and place.
“No! Not at all! It’s just them seeing me with another man, and especially one that is younger and looks like a rock star. They’re used to their father. He’s clean cut, works in an office . . . I don’t want to throw too much crazy at them all at once.”
His jaw muscles flex and clench. “Please don’t say that. I hate that rock star term.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to offend you,” I stammer, knowing that I am offending him because I can’t find the right words to explain what I’m trying to say.
“Ivy, I don’t care what other people think, and you shouldn’t either. I’m not saying you shouldn’t care what your kids think, but I don’t think it’s a big deal to date a man younger than you, or one that looks like me. There are way worse things going on in the world they’re going to be seeing.” He takes his sunglasses off the top of his head, runs his hand through his hair, and puts the glasses on his face. “If they were my kids, I’d want to show them that we should accept people for who they are, not what they look like or how old they are, or what they do for work.”
I stiffen and back away from him. He’s right, but I don’t need some twenty-four year old kid with zero parenting experience lecturing me. Of course, I don’t want my children to be judgmental. I want them to accept people of all color, religion, career choice, and sexual orientation, no matter what.
“You’re right,” I agree. “But you really don’t know what it’s like. It’s just hard, being a parent. I’m trying to do the right thing is all.”
“I’m sure it is hard. Now, what night are you going to let me take you out?” he asks as we walk across the back yard together toward the house.
“You don’t give up, do you?”
“No. Until you outright tell me you will never, ever go out with me, I’m gonna keep asking. You should go out with me just to shut me up.”
I shake my head at him and feel my cheeks heating. “Why? I don’t get it. I’m boring. And difficult, as you can see.”
He puts his arm around me and leads me to the side of the garage where we are invisible from all the windows of my house. “I like challenges,” he teases. I wonder if he’s going to kiss me back here on the side of the garage, and if he does, I don’t think I’ll have the power to resist. He looks incredibly hot all sweaty, his hair messy, dark sunglasses covering what I know are sensual hooded eyes looking right through me. “Seriously, I like you, Ivy. I’m tired of dating all these bat-shit crazy chicks in the party scene. I’m not into it. I want to be with someone normal and settled down that I can trust.” He touches the tip of my nose. “Plus, you’re adorable. You even look great in the morning.”
Oh, shit. I completely forgot that I came out here to talk to him right from crawling out of bed, with sweats on.
I put my hands over my face. “Oh my God. I totally forgot I didn’t have any make up on and I look like a slob.”
He grabs my hands and pulls them away to uncover my face. “You’re beautiful. Don’t hide.”
I gently take his sunglasses off his face so I can see his eyes, and just as I expected, they are dancing with sincerity and sensuality. “Lukas, you’re incredibly sweet.”
He grins, and my insides melt like butter in a hot pan. “I know that, doll.”
Resistance is so damn hard around him. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” I tell him again, trying to convince both of us. Even I’m getting tired of hearing myself say it.
He takes a few steps away in frustration and then comes back to stand in front of me. “I think it’s a great idea, Ivy, but I’m not gonna beg. That’s just fuckin’ pitiful. But will you do just one little thing for me?”
“That depends . . .”
“Think it over and give me an answer when I see you at our next appointment. All right? I’m just asking you to have dinner with me. Nothing else. I’d love to kiss you again, but I’ll take dinner for now.”
He must think I’m a freak. Who acts like this when a guy asks them out for dinner? Me, of course. That’s who. Because I’m completely socially inept. “Okay,” I agree. “I’ll think about it.”
“Finally, some progress.” He smiles from ear to ear then backs up and does his little wave thing. “Later, gator.”
I know I’ve got a silly grin on my face as I watch him walk away.
LUKAS
AFTER I LEAVE IVY’S HOUSE, I drive to Gram’s house for a visit. Since I usually work on Saturday, I don’t get to visit her on the weekends when the rest of my family does, but I cleared my day today so I could fix Ivy’s roof and have a little downtime for myself. Thankfully, all my clients were really cool about rescheduling.
Gram’s house is like the hub of the family; everyone comes and goes constantly. Her house has six bedrooms, so some of us sleep there at random times to keep her company or just to hang out.
My brother Vandal’s sports car, and a tricked-out pickup truck that I think is my cousin Talon’s new toy, is in the driveway when I get there.
As soon as I walk through the back door, I’m met with the smell of baking, because Gram pretty much cooks non-stop. Cookies, pies, stew, shepherd’s pie, lasagna, meat loaf—you name it. She’s either cooked it, is cooking it, or is planning on cooking it.
“Uncle Lukas!” Vandal’s five year old daughter flies across the room and throws herself into my arms. Holding her high, I spin around with her in my arms as she giggles.
“How’s my girl?” I hold her against my chest and plant a big kiss on her cheek.
“Good! We’re making brownies!”
I carry her toward the kitchen, where Gram and Vandal are standing over the center island.
“Brownies?” I repeat. “My favorite.”
Vandal nudges me with his elbow. “Yeah, not those kinds of brownies, man,” he jokes.
I kiss Gram on the cheek as she’s stirring batter in a big bowl, and she smiles up at me. “Honey, what a nice surprise. Why aren’t you working?”
I lower Katie down to her feet and watch her run to the kitchen table to play with her toys. “I had something to do this morning, so I rescheduled everyone to take the day off.” I grab a cookie from a big plate on the counter and turn to my brother. “You’re working next week, right? If you’re going to be out a lot with the band, we’re going to have to hire another artist.”
He nods and runs his hand through his long black hair. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Lemme think about hiring someone else. I’d rather not. I wanted it to be just me and you, and not deal with the bullshit of employees.”
“Language, Vandal,” Gram whispers, nodding over at Katie.
“Me too,” I agree. “But it’s getting really busy. I can’t do everything myself. I think we need a receptionist at least. I can’t keep stopping to answer the phone. It makes the customers nervous.”
“Fuck that, we don’t need someone to answer the phone. Let it go to voicemail and call them back.”
Gram smacks Vandal up the side of his head with the spatula. “Go put a quarter in the jar!”
Vandal rubs the side of his head, where he has a smudge of brownie batter now. “What the fuck, Gram?”
“Stop swearing in front of the baby! Now go put a quarter in the jar.”
Cracking up, I watch him dig around in his pockets. “I don’t have a quarter,” he says. “I only have a twenty.”
She shrugs. “I don’t care. Put it in the jar.” Gram is like a dwarf—maybe five feet tall, gray hair, little rimmed glasses, and usually dressed up wearing tons of jewelry. Her personality is a scream, and she keeps all of us guys in line, usually having us in hysterics. We all love her and would kill for her.
The swear jar is completely stuffed with bills and just a few quarters. “Gram, what are you going to do with all that money you’ve extracted from all of us?” I ask her. I’ve lost abo
ut a hundred bucks in that jar myself.
She puts the baking pan into the oven and sets the timer. “Never mind that. You boys swear way too much in front of Katie. Do you want her to start swearing and sounding like a truck driver?”
“Yes,” Vandal replies, grinning at Gram. He loves to get her riled up.
“Don’t make me smack you again,” she retorts.
I watch Katie color a picture of a rainbow and a unicorn for a few moments, and she suddenly smiles up at me, her two front teeth missing. I ruffle her hair and lean down to kiss the top of her head. “This one is for you, Uncle Lukas,” she tells me in her sweet voice. “When I’m done, you can take it home and put it on your wall, or maybe tattoo it on someone.”
“I would love to do that, Princess Katie.”
Vandal crosses the room and sits in the chair at the table next to Katie. “Hey, I heard you dumped Rio,” he says, grabbing some crayons.
Frowning at him, I lean against the wall and shake my head. “Yeah, I did. Is there anyone you haven’t screwed?”
He tilts his head like he’s thinking about it. “Not many, bro. You may have to move to the west coast.”
“Very funny.”
He chooses a purple crayon and starts to color one of Katie’s pictures. “So why’d you dump her? She’s fun.”
