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Finally, Silas appears with drinks in hand. I stand before accepting mine, and without a word, we sip, and he looks odd too. Like he just jerked off, and that’s hot, but it’s something else.
“You okay?” It’s my turn to ask.
“Yeah.” He throws back the bourbon and sets the glass down. “Care to dance?”
I finish my drink, too, and take his hand. A Michael Bublé holiday tune plays while Silas wraps his arm around my waist, and he can dance. Like cotillion dance, and now I know why.
Silas isn’t just a free-spirited surfer dude. He’s a prince to a southern fortune and trained to take over.
“Did I tell you how stunning you are tonight?” His words and steps are perfect.
“Five times.”
“I’m going for twelve.” He dips me. “For the twelve days of Christmas.”
That makes me laugh, and we’re finally having fun like usual until I hear, “Son?”
His grip tightens, and our dance stops. I turn, and it’s his mom, and I step back for them to talk.
“Hey, Mom.” It’s sudden how he softens and gives her a gentle kiss on the cheek. Like a man raised with manners, Silas introduces me, “Mom, please meet Sergeant Cade Bryant. Cade, this is my mother, June Van de May.”
“Ms. Bryant.” She smiles sincerely. “What a genuine delight.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen my son, but if he’s keeping your beautiful company, I understand why.” Her eyes glimmer green. “Bryant? Like Sheriff Gloria Bryant? You’re her daughter, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Son.”
A voice approaches over June Van de May’s shoulder, and Silas’s father appears. Over introductions, Earl Van de May hears my family name, and his eyes shift from scrutiny to approval.
“Your mother built a strong legacy.” His dad lifts his chin. “She’s lucky to have a child who makes her parents proud.”
Covertly, I grab Silas’s hand. That was a low blow, and it had to hurt. I’m right because he squeezes mine back.
“Well, you must come up.” His mom sounds warm, desperate even. It’s obvious she misses her son. “Silas, bring Ms. Bryant up for New Year’s Day and our tradition. We’re having black-eyed peas and collards for good luck.”
Why a billionaire family practices that old Southern tradition, I’m shocked. Then again, they define tradition now, and that one’s delicious. But I don’t accept. This is Silas’s call.
“We’ll see, Mom.” He gives her another soft peck. “If our calendars are clear.” His father says nothing.
“Thank you for the invitation.” I try to ease the tension.
“Nonsense, dear.” She leans in and pecks my cheek. “You’re welcome in our home anytime.”
“Dad.” Silas strains the word, and that’s how they say goodbye.
“Ms. Bryant, it’s been a pleasure,” his dad says before turning to continue his reign over the room.
“I’m sorry he said that,” I tell Silas the second they walk away.
“Don’t apologize for him. I’m used to it.”
“I’d be honored to be your date to their party.”
“You might prefer jumping into an alligator pit.”
