“I’m always admiring you.” His gaze darkens.
I shiver, loving the way his attention is glued to me like no one else in the room exists. We’re busy staring into each other’s eyes with matching intensity when someone clears their throat.
The maître d’ smiles politely as he approaches the table with my parents.
“Mom, Dad.” I fly to my feet while Slade rises more gracefully. “This is… Woody.” I turn and smile at Slade, then look back at my parents. Mom’s brows have shot up her forehead, and she blinks a couple of times before smiling.
“Woody. It’s so nice to see you. I’m Clara.”
“Nice to see you too, Mrs. Yardley,” Slade replies, kissing my mom on the cheek as she continues to study him, trying and failing to be subtle about it.
“Woody?” My father wrinkles his nose, not attempting to disguise his obvious disapproval.
Slade offers his hand, and my father reluctantly shakes it.
“Dr. Yardley,” Slade greets politely.
“Call me Clara, please,” Mom says as she sits in the seat my father pulls out for her.
“Dr. Yardley will do,” my father clips as he takes a seat beside her.
I sink into my own nervously, my eyes bouncing around the table. Slade seems relaxed, an easy expression on his face as my dad stares at him. It’s going as I expected, although maybe better, because Dad staring I can handle. It’s when he starts asking?—
“And what exactly is it you do,Woody?” His eyes drop over Slade’s outfit, taking in his rough stubble and hair curling over his collar. His scowl deepens.
“I was working at a hotel and making carvings on commission,” Slade answers, seemingly unaffected by my father’s scrutiny, almost like he expected it.
“They’re beautiful, he’s really talented. You should see them,” I say, returning Mom’s smile as she looks genuinely interested.
“Oh, I would love?—”
“And where exactly do you create these masterpieces?” Dad clips, cutting off my mom. “Do you actually sell any? Or are youone of those starving artist types?” He waves a hand in the air dismissively.
“Roy,” Mom hisses.
“I do sell them,” Slade replies, remaining so cool I’m going to have to ask him to teach me how. “But I’m taking a break right now while I’m between employment.”
My father snorts, signaling the server. “Let’s order, shall we?”
Dinner passes with my mother and I holding it together, making small talk while my father glares at Slade across the table, and makes the odd snort or comment at Slade’s perfectly suitable answers to my mother’s polite questions. She seems genuinely interested in his art and his stories about what activities he helped Mel and me participate in on our trip.
Dessert arrives and I breathe out in relief that we’ve almost survived unscathed. Then I notice my father’s attention glued to my neck. My cheeks heat, and I reposition my hair, but it’s too late. He’s seen the angry-looking love bite Slade left there.
“Jude was going to marry a surgeon,” my father announces suddenly, making me drop my spoon onto my plate with a loud clatter.
“Dad,” I plead.
“Roy,” Mom mutters like she’s embarrassed.
He leans across the table, pointing at Slade. “Did she tell you about him? About his family? She would have been looked after. Set for life.”
Slade takes his time leaning over the table, mirroring my father’s stance, but doing it in a way that’s open and full of confidence.
And just like that, I have the hots for him even more.
“Dr. Yardley. Jude can be set for life through her own means. She works hard, and she’s brilliant at what she does. So brilliant thatFortunemagazine featured her as a visionary leader in the medical administration field, as I’m sure you know.”
I shift in my seat. I left the recent article out on my coffee table. Slade must have read it.
