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His expression darkened. “If I ever make you uncomfortable, Penta, you just have to say so. You don’t have to be secretive about it.”
She toyed with the zipper on her hoodie, sliding it up and down in short, jerky movements, nervous energy overflowing in fidgets. “I was thinking more about you. I don’t want to screw up your chance at getting to know your daughter. If I’m doing something you don’t like or worry that Linda won’t like, you need to let me know, without risking our...” She searched for a word that described the situation best and came up blank.
He stared at her like he’d never seen her before. “You’re worried about screwing things up for me?”
“Of course. This is important to you. I don’t want to ruin it by accident.”
“Penta.” He said her name with an air of helpless confusion.
Great. She’d already made him uncomfortable. She opened her mouth to apologize, but the words froze in her throat when his hands rested on her shoulders and his lips covered hers.
Chapter Eight
Penta’s full, rich flavour flooded Cash’s senses. Suppressing the desire to dip his tongue into the wet warmth of her mouth, he kept the kiss light and delicate. The gap between their bodies seemed a terrible waste of space. He wanted to press her softness against him, grip her lush ass with both hands. Instead, he kept his fingers on the roundness of her shoulders covered by the cotton of her enveloping sweatshirt.
He was increasingly curious to see what was underneath her shapeless clothing.
Some idiot gunned a motor on the street. He lifted his head and let his hands slide down her biceps before dropping to his sides.
She blinked, speechless, her obvious befuddlement a satisfactory surprise.
“Umm.” She licked her lips and his gaze zeroed in on their shiny pinkness. “What was that for?”
“A thank you. For worrying about me and Elle.” He couldn’t remember the last time someone had put his needs first. “We don’t need a safe word, Penta. I’ll be honest with you, and you’ll be honest with me. The rest will work itself out.”
He could actually see her drawing her wits about her. “Sure. If that’s what you want.”
He was beginning to worry about exactly how much he wanted from Penta. Pressing the latch, he drew the door open. “After you.”
She stepped past, a little uncertain on her feet. If that was how she reacted to a simple kiss, what would she be like if he lavished his full attention on her?
The thought came back to him later that night as he lay in his queen-sized bed, arms crossed behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. He hardened at the memory of her sweetness, her surprise. His right hand itched to relieve the pressure, but he didn’t move. For reasons he couldn’t decipher, it would be wrong to jerk off while thinking of Penta.
He couldn’t remember much of the hour or so he’d spent with the Silverberries. It had been pleasant enough and he hadn’t felt as out of place as he usually did. Everyone had gone out of their way to include him in their conversation.
He could remember every nuance of the brief kiss he’d given Penta.
And wondered if she’d mind if he did it again—did it right—someday.
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Penta parked in front of Absolute Motorcycle Repair just as a large service van pulled away. The disfiguring plywood that had hid the destruction Cyril and his friends had wrought was gone. In its place, glossy, pristine glass gave passersby an unimpeded view of the space inside.
Through the wide window nearest her, she observed Cash talking with a blond girl wearing the teenager’s ubiquitous uniform of backpack slung over one shoulder, T-shirt, and tight jeans encasing sturdy legs. Cyril straightened products on a nearby shelf, head half-turned, as if eavesdropping on the conversation.
The girl gestured as she spoke, hands waving with abandon. Cash regarded her with a blank expression, but something in his stance reminded Penta of a dam on the verge of bursting.
She’d eat her hat if that wasn’t Elle.
Taking a deep breath, she left the safety of her van and entered the shop. The air was thick with tension and she caught the tail end of the girl’s speech.
“It’s my birthday, Dad. I don’t care what Mom says.”
Cash caught Penta’s eye, a wild and desperate plea flickering in his grey gaze. She’d hoped they’d have time to strategize how to tell their families about their so-called relationship, but it looked like she’d have to wing it. The current situation needed to be defused quickly, given Elle’s shiny eyes and trembling lips.
“Hello, there.” She took a position by Cash’s elbow, not touching but close enough to present a united front. If anything, the girl’s expression grew stormier. “You must be Elle. Cash has told me a lot about you.” A lot was stretching it. She’d have to get him to rectify that omission soon.
The teenager’s gaze flashed from her father to Penta and back again. “He has?”
It was impossible to miss the hopefulness leaching through the surly tone. She nodded, smiling cheerfully. “I’m Penta.” She pointed in her son’s direction. “Cyril’s mother.”
