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“Gotcha.” Isaiah grabbed his phone from the floor. “I think I’ll go to bed. I don’t want to be grumpy when I meet your dad.”
Did Darren walk him to the door—all six steps—or not?
He stayed put. “Sleep well.”
“You too.” Isaiah paused, still angled in a way that had Darren curious. “Thanks for today. You could have ignored me and spent time with your mother. I appreciate you making me feel welcome.”
“Like it was a chore.” Darren wasn’t going to forget waking up next to Isaiah for a long time. “I had fun, too.”
Isaiah waved, and disappointment flooded Darren the second he disappeared into the hall. It took a herculean effort not to jump up and ask him to come back.
Darren adjusted himself, swallowing a moan.
On the other hand, some alone time was exactly what he needed.
Isaiah
He should have cut his hair.
Darren Josiah (Josh) Gage, IV would take one look at Isaiah and brand him unacceptable to be the Gage Scholar, let alone to work at MAS Oil.
He tied his hair up. It’d be fine. He’d gotten up early and would be chipper. Hopefully it’d score points with Josh Gage. Small points for sure, but something an A game required.
He slid his phone into his front pocket and headed for the kitchen.
The house was quiet as he walked down the grand staircase. He hadn’t heard anyone moving about since he left Darren’s room the night before. Not surprising, given the size of the house.
His heart pounded as he walked around the house alone for the first time. He kept expecting someone—Josh—to pop out of a room and stop him. Eye him up and down and wonder—even for a split second—what this intruder was doing here.
He saw no one, but as he approached the kitchen, he heard voices.
“He was an ass, Mom. Gave Ms. Plower a drink order as if she was a waitress, not the event host.”
“You can’t judge him on a single action.”
Should Isaiah leave or announce his presence?
“It was more than that. There definitely won’t be a second date.”
“That’s fine, dear. Plenty of men from good families available. I’m sure I can find you a few to choose from.”
Darren didn’t answer immediately, and Isaiah wished he’d backed away sooner.
He turned and walked toward the patio.
So, Darren’s mother had ideas about who was acceptable for her son. Men from good families. Rich families with the right pedigree. No-names from the bad side of a small city need not apply.
He opened the patio doors and stepped into the brisk late-September morning.
This was his kind of weather. After the heat, but before the snow. Snow Erie got far too much of. Snow Ian and Isabelle would have to shovel, now that Isaiah wasn’t there.
God, he needed to move all of them away.
He glared at his groin. “Listen to the big head. Or you’re gonna ruin our chances.”
Darren
She wasn’t listening. Did she think he was a hideous troll? Too timid to ask anyone out?
“Mom, stop. Please.”
“What’s wrong with me looking around for you? You don’t have to marry any of them. I’m just making an introduction.”
He knew she was trying to be supportive and do something nice. But the “good families” part set his teeth on edge. She didn’t say it, but she meant wealthy. Not that she was a snob. Those were the only families she knew. Well, she knew other people, but they were tangential to her life.
“So if Gabrielle had a gay son, you’d call me to make an introduction?” It was a bit mean asking her if the cook’s son was acceptable.
His mother’s face tightened from the nerve he’d struck. It was wrong to insinuate she’d never suggest he date the cook’s son.
“Would you be okay if I dated the child of someone who worked for us? Or sold clothes at Macy’s? Or a plumber?”
Or whose mother was a nurse?
“You make it sound like I’m telling you to only date the people I introduce to you. I never said that, Darren.” She cupped his left check and pulled him closer to kiss the right one. “But you do need to be careful. There will be people who’ll want to go out with you just to take advantage of you. Or worse, try to hurt you.”
“Or the family.” He nodded because he understood her point all too well. “I know. It’s why I keep a low profile on social media. Believe it or not, I don’t want anyone to use me to hurt our family.”
Her face softened and she smiled. “I know, honey. It’s just sometimes I fear we sheltered you too much. You never mingled with kids who weren’t from a certain social class. I worry you won’t see their motives for what they truly are and you’ll get hurt.”
“I might be a bit more worldly than you imagine,” he said with a smirk. “But you realize that some of the kids from these good families might be more of a threat? They have the resources to fund a smear campaign. And they know the family’s finances better than those who don’t run in the same social circles as we do.”
