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“You’re yummy,” he replied, pushing a lock of hair away from my face. “I had a nice time.”
“I’m glad.” I paused there, wondering whether I should say anything else, or whether I should just let it go and allow myself to enjoy the afterglow of a friendly meal.
But I suppose something in my expression must have shifted, because the small smile Calvin had been wearing disappeared, and he said, “But you’re wondering why we haven’t done the same thing with my parents.”
I didn’t bother to protest, but instead gave a shrug. “It’s okay.”
“No, it really isn’t.” He moved away from me, heading toward the kitchen, and I followed him. Once there, he got a couple of glasses out of the cupboard, then poured us both some water. Probably just as well; we’d ended up splitting two bottles of wine with dinner, and I knew I shouldn’t be drinking anything else when I had to drive back to my apartment after this.
I took the glass of water from him and sipped. “The situation is totally different. My mother and Tom are regular people. Your parents…aren’t. They’re probably not thrilled to have their son dating a shiksa like me.”
His brows lifted. “A what?”
“It’s Yiddish for a non-Jewish woman,” I explained. “I assume the San Ramon Apache have a word for people who aren’t like you.”
“We do.” Calvin’s mouth twisted slightly. “It’s not exactly a compliment.”
“Neither is shiksa,” I said. “The only time I’ve ever heard it used in conversation was when one of my clients back in L.A. used to complain about the girls her son was dating.”
That comment made him chuckle a little. “I’m sure my mother has had similar conversations with her cousins.”
I couldn’t really take offense at his remark. After all, we weren’t talking about a difference of religion or even culture, but an entirely different race of people. I might have been a witch, but I was still an ordinary human being. It wasn’t as though I could shift into a coyote whenever I felt like it.
Still….
“I do find it kind of hard to believe that in the entire history of your people, not one of them has ever hooked up with someone outside the tribe.”
Calvin looked a little pained at the phrase “hooked up,” but he only said, “There might have been a few…liaisons…over the years. Nothing serious, though, nothing permanent.”
How was I supposed to respond to that statement? We hadn’t been dating even two months yet, so it was far too early to be thinking about anything long-term, even if I’d allowed myself to indulge in a few hazy fantasies of walking down the aisle in Globe’s totally adorable Methodist church, with Calvin looking gorgeous in a suit as he waited for me at the altar. Kind of crazy, considering how long we’d been together…and not to mention the fact that back in L.A., I’d pretty much resigned myself to my single state.
Everything was different here, though, and that included my possible future with Calvin.
“They’ll come around,” I told him. Probably better to leave the “permanent” conversation for a much later date.
“I hope so,” he said, then finally lifted his own glass of water to his lips and took a sip. “It did feel like a big step, having dinner at the casino tonight.”
It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “And there you were, acting like it wasn’t a big deal.”
“I didn’t want to put too much pressure on the evening.”
Wise of him. I drank some water as well, then said, “Do you want to go sit down in the living room?” Yes, I’d been sitting at dinner, but it felt kind of awkward to be hanging around the kitchen like this when we weren’t actually in the process of making something.
“No,” he replied, and set down his glass on the counter.
I stared at him in confusion. “Why not?”
“Because I can think of someplace else I’d much rather be.”
After making that statement, he stepped toward me, then pulled me into his arms, kissing me deeply, making all that welcome warmth flow into my limbs. A few moments later, he pulled away…but only so he could look into my eyes.
So much passion in that dark, hungry gaze. I knew what he wanted.
Which was fine by me, because I wanted the same thing.
My fingers crept into his. “Let’s go.”
A phone was shrilling in my ear. I rolled over and cracked one bleary eye at the bedside table where my iPhone lay. The table didn’t look familiar; it was light-hued pine, rustic and simple.
