Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Marissa
I did my best to put some space between Simbel and me the following week.
It was…difficult.
For one thing, he visited me in the front office daily, his sweet smile and teasing jokes making me laugh despite my attempts to remain impervious. For another thing, I didn’t want to be away from him; I wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss him and announce to the world—or at least Eastshore Isle Upper School—that he was mine.
But for how long?
It was that thought—the reminder that the last time I acted this way, I was hurt—that made me come up with an excuse when he invited me to dinner Tuesday evening. As much as I did want to join him at Pastabilities, and maybe kiss him again afterwards, I couldn’t.
I had to remind myself that I was a strong single mother who had gotten this far by being mature and responsible. I wasn’t the kind of young woman who made out under the bleachers anymore. I was the one who set examples .
Yeah.
Luckily, Simbel had just smiled and shrugged. “That’s okay. We’re still on for the town Oyster Festival on Saturday, right? And clamming that night?”
I could pretend to have forgotten the date Patrick helped set up—me taking Simbel out on the boat Saturday evening. Clamming after dark was a fun experience, assuming the headlamps had batteries, and I thought it a little suspicious that Patrick was conveniently going to be at Ethan’s house that evening.
Was my son setting me up? He did complain that I was boring. Was this his way of making me less boring?
Five days later, I still had no answers, but my insides were all screwed up.
I wasn’t sleeping well. I wasn’t eating well.
It was like I was living in constant dread of something that was showing no signs of happening. Maybe I was wrong; maybe Simbel wouldn’t wake up one day, look around, and decide he wanted nothing to do with a thirty-something mom and her turning-into-a-handful teenage son.
Maybe .
It was that reminder that got me out of bed on Saturday and had me make pancakes for Patrick. It’s a known fact that the only way to get a teenager out of bed before noon on a weekend was the smell of bacon and pancakes.
It worked, and I convinced him to help me weed the garden where I’d plant tomatoes in a month. By two, we were heading to the park, where the grill and bandstand had been set up. It seemed almost too warm to be having an oyster roast, but honestly, of all the roasts on Eastshore, this end-of-season one sold the fewest oysters.
“Hey.” I pretended to look around furtively, then slipped Patrick a twenty-dollar bill. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
He snorted and handed it right back to me. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he announced, and threw his arms around my shoulders. “I’m hanging out with you and Simbel. I’ll chaperone.”
The way he winked told me he was teasing me, but I couldn’t help my blush. “Your friends—”
“The hoodlums?” He flicked his fingers dismissively. “I know you’d rather I not hang out with them.”
Was I that obvious? Frowning, I pulled to a stop and grabbed hold of the hand that was dangling over my shoulder. When did my baby get so tall?
“Patrick, I’m glad you have friends. I’m just worried about you getting into trouble.”
“Mom, they’re good guys.”
I winced but tried to hide it. “Are they? ”
He huffed out a breath. “Yeah, they are. They just…sometimes get bored. Ethan and I are trying to get them to…” He shrugged awkwardly and glanced away. “You know. Try different stuff.”
I squeezed his hand, relief easing the cramp in my stomach. “Like the band?”
Blue eyes darted to me, then away. “Maybe we could be called The Hoodlums.”
I huffed out a breath, then snaked my arm around his middle. “I’m proud of you, kiddo.”
“I know.” And just like that, his cockiness was back. “I’m pretty perfect. Hey, there’s Simbel! Bro !” he called, waving.
But Simbel had already seen us, and his face had split into a huge grin. God, he was so handsome, wasn’t he? Just seeing his joy made my face heat. Or maybe I was remembering the way he’d made me feel last weekend beneath the bleachers, how gentle he’d been.
“My two favorite people!” he declared, marching up to us.
He didn’t halt, but crouched down, wrapped his arms around both Patrick and me, and lifted us into a bear hug that shouldn’t be possible. My feet dangled above the grass, and my shoulder jammed into Patrick’s side, and I joined my son in laughing and squirming.
“Just be glad I’m not tickling you,” Simbel announced seriously, his nose inches from mine.
I snorted and squirmed again, as Patrick hollered, “Put me down, bro! The ladies will see! ”
Chuckling, Simbel released Patrick, but not me. No, me he lifted higher , and right there in front of everyone, he kissed me. Like we were young and in love.
In love ?
Oh hell.
Oh hell .
I did love him, didn’t I? Oh hell.
All this second-guessing myself and trying to distance myself. It hadn’t worked. It hadn’t stopped the little lurch my stomach gave when I saw him smile at me like I was the most important person in the world. Or the way my heart beat faster when I thought of him.
“I can smell you thinking,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose against mine. “I hope it’s good thoughts.”
His eyes were green again.
Scoffing, I smacked his shoulder. “You can’t smell me thinking. Put me down.”
“Orc senses are far more advanced than humans. You’d be surprised what we can smell.” He winked, but then slowly released me, allowing me to slide down his chest and stomach until my feet touched the ground.
And I couldn’t deny there was a bulge in his jeans that made me wonder if he really could smell everything. Had he smelled the way I’d been remembering his touch?
The way he grinned down at me, the way he bent down to drop another kiss on my lips, told me that he could .
Patrick’s loud humming broke through my haze, and I blinked, lifting my fingertips to my lips, a little confused about what I was doing standing in the middle of the park… When I glanced around, it was to see my son standing with his hands in his pockets, staring fixedly at a nearby tree, humming loudly.
Simbel chuckled, and Patrick glanced at us. “Oh good, you’re done. I’m a shit chaperone.”
Gasping, I smacked his arm. “Patrick!”
“Be honest.” He grinned unrepentantly. “Are you more upset at the insinuation I’m chaperoning you, or that I used the word shit?”
“Here, Trick,” Simbel said, digging in his wallet. “If I give you this, will you go find a friend and leave us alone?”
When he waved a ten-dollar bill, Patrick snorted and crossed his arms. “Mom offered me twenty , and I still said no.”
I could feel myself grinning beneath my fingertips. I admit, as much as I wanted to be alone with Simbel, I loved the fact that my teen son wanted to hang out with me.
“How about two tens?” Simbel asked, pulling out a second bill. “You could eat yourself sick at the ice cream truck.”
Patrick glared. “As tempting as that is, I know if I stick with you, I can sucker Mom into buying me whatever food I want.”
“He’s right, you know,” I offered.
“But!” My kid pointed to the bills in Simbel’s hand. “If you add a zero to the end of that, we could maybe make a deal.”
“Two hundred ?” Simbel slipped both bills back into his wallet. “Dream on, kid.”
“I’m trying ,” Patrick whined, but I could see the grin he was hiding. “I need a drum set!”
With a snort, Simbel spun, tucking me up against his side and grabbing Patrick in a headlock. As my son shouted and tried to punch his way out, Simbel just grinned and began a leisurely stroll, as if unaffected.
“Do you hear something?” he asked me nonchalantly.
Playing along, I hummed thoughtfully. “You know, now that you mention it, it does sound like our chaperone, doesn’t it?”
“Luckily, I talked him into staying home tonight.” Simbel waggled his brows at me comically. “Just you and me, alone on the open water, smelling of clams and saltwater and seaweed.”
“Ahh, romance,” I quipped with a happy sigh.
Who knows how long he would’ve dragged my son along in a headlock, had another orc not stopped us. “Simbel, Ms. Gray, it’s good to see you again,” announced Sakkara, the town’s mayor. “You remember my Mate, Nikki?”
I did recognize her from the Christmas celebrations, and I knew she was the new teacher at the elementary school. “Hi Nikki.” I offered a little wave. “The semester going well?”
The short woman rolled her eyes as she tucked a hank of teal hair behind her ear. “We’re fast approaching the point where everyone—including me—is going a little feral. Spring break can’t come soon enough.”
“Where’s Emmy?” asked Simbel, finally allowing Patrick to straighten. “Trick, do you know Emmy? She’s the mayor’s daughter.”
My son—who was now red with either embarrassment or exertion—scowled at Simbel, then reluctantly shook his head. “I’ve…uh…no, I don’t hang out with kindergarteners.”
“She’s in second grade,” Nikki offered helpfully, and I could see from her innocent expression she knew he knew that. “And she’s running around here with a few of her friends. Hard to miss—she’s almost as tall as I am, and she’s talking more now too!”
“Trick?” Sakkara offered his hand to the teen. “I assume you’re Marissa’s son. It’s nice to meet you.”
Flushing further, Patrick took the offered handshake, and I was proud of the way he nodded firmly. “Nice to meet you too. Sir. Uh, congratulations on winning the mayorship, sir. Is that the word?”
Sakkara smiled. “It’s not, and you don’t have to keep calling me sir.”
Lifting his hand in front of his mouth, Simbel loudly stage-whispered to Patrick, “Don’t listen to him. It’s a good idea to always be polite to people in positions of power.”
“Especially when he’s twice your size and can rip your head off?” Patrick whispered back; eyes sparkling.
“Exactly. You’re really quite bright, you know? ”
Patrick pretended to bow. “Oh, thank you.”
Nikki was rolling her eyes, but Sakkara was beaming. “I’m glad to see you’ve found someone who puts up with you, Simbel.”
“Yeah,” came a new voice. “I could’ve told you he has the sense of humor—and the intelligence—of a teenaged boy.”
The new orc looked remarkably like Simbel but wore his hair long. He was scowling as he limped toward us, a cane in one hand.
“Bro, was that an insult for you or me?” Patrick stage-whispered, but Simbel merely snorted.
“Memnon!” Simbel squeezed me against him, and I could hear the joy in his voice. “You did come! Did your new boss make you?”
If anything, the new male’s scowl deepened. “Maybe I wanted to meet your Rissa.” He nodded to me curtly, but stopped outside our little circle and made no effort to offer his hand. “Good to meet you, finally.” He nodded to my son on Simbel’s other side. “Trick. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“You have?” Patrick blurted, at the same time Simbel announced, “Rissa, Trick, meet my twin brother, Memnon.”
“Oh yeah,” Patrick mugged, “I can definitely see the resemblance.”
“Not sure if he’s insulting you or me,” Memnon grumbled, repeating Patrick’s words from earlier, and I offered an awkward little wave .
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Memnon. Simbel told me a lot about you. All good things.”
The other male snorted. “And that’s how I know it was all bullshit.”
But I was still thinking about what Memnon had said originally. Good to meet you finally . He’d called me Simbel’s Rissa . Had…Simbel talked about me to his brother? He’d told Memnon about Patrick?
A warm feeling grew in my stomach.
Somehow, knowing he’d talked about—bragged about?—us to his twin brother made this…this… whatever this was feel more real.
My emotions were a big jumble in my chest. I loved the way Simbel made me feel, loved the way he fit so perfectly with our family, loved him . But I was terrified of the future, and what my crazy, impulsive behaviors might lead to.
Simbel’s arm tightened around me, and when I glanced up, he was looking at me with concern. I tried to smile, and his eyes softened. “Want to go check out the fried food truck?” he offered.
Patrick leapt at the opportunity. “Fried Oreos!” he yelled, which sounded horrible. But yeah, I was glad for the chance to get Simbel to myself once more. I needed to come to terms with the way my heart was leaping at the thought of convincing Simbel to stay.
Forever.
I looped my arm around Simbel’s waist, or as much as I could manage. “Fried Oreos, huzzah. ”
“That used to be my nickname—” Simbel began, but I cut him off with a laugh.
“It was good to see you again, Nikki, Sakkara.” My smile turned shy. “Nice meeting you, Memnon.”
As Simbel led us away, I heard Sakkara say, “So…how’s your new job going?”
And Memnon replied in a grumble, “I hate you.”
“Maybe,” Sakkara chuckled, “but it was necessary.”
“Still hate you.”
“How’s the leg? Still stiff? The high school has a track lots of Eastshore uses to exercise.”
Then we were too far away to hear Memnon’s reply, because I’d suddenly been hit with an idea. An idea that might help alleviate some of Simbel’s worry about his brother, and something that would remind me that you know what? I am pretty awesome, thank you very much .
“Hey, Fried Oreos?” I began, my brain whizzing through all the possibilities of the plan as we strolled away from the group.
“Aww!” Simbel smiled down at me. “You remembered my name. Or are you asking for some?”
I squeezed him. “No, I’m coming up with cutesy sobriquets. Studmuffin, fried-Oreos, strawberry cheesecake…”
He slowed to a stop and rounded on me. “Is it my imagination or are all these dessert-based?” he asked, tipping my chin up gently with one claw .
“You’re very sweet.” My smile bloomed. “I mean, it’s better than meat-based monikers, right?”
“Sausage? Fatty-And-A-Bit-Salty? Chewy Mouthful? Meat-based monikers are great nicknames. Besides, I happen to like meat,” Simbel murmured, lowered his mouth to mine. “ Dkaar .”
Dkaar . The word sounded so musical coming from him. I would ask him what it meant…just as soon as I could think again.
Simbel’s kisses did that to me.
I was smiling in bemusement when he finally straightened. “So,” he murmured, running his hand down my spine. “Fried Oreos?”
What ? Oh, “No,” I blurted. “I just…” Blinking, I tried to focus on what I’d been thinking about before he’d turned so many heads by kissing me right in the middle of everyone. “I was just…um…we should stop by the silent auction booth.”
His black brows went up, the green spark back in his eyes. “Oooh, what are you going to bid on?”
“Not me, you .” I took a deep breath. “I think you should bid on Kelly.”
Immediately, his expression clouded, and he tightened his hold on me. “ Dkaar, I don’t think I could make it any clearer that I want nothing to do with that woman. You’re the only female I want.”
I mean, flattering? Yes.
Particularly after a week of confusion and self-doubt .
I was flushing—half happily, half in embarrassment—when I rolled my eyes at him. “Not for you, Simbel. Bid on her—her workout offer—for your brother. You want Memnon out of the house, yeah? And he’s been stiff, right? So win Kelly’s fitness coaching services and give them to him.”
Simbel’s expression had slowly cleared. “ Yes ,” he breathed. “And he’s almost as handsome as I am, so she’ll be happy.”
“I hope he’s humbler,” I teased.
But he just clicked his tongue and lifted me until my feet dangled, and I was plastered against him. “Have I told you how brilliant you are, Rissa?” he asked seriously, staring into my eyes. “I am the luckiest male.”
There was something about the way he said the words that made me feel warm. No, not just warm, but…itchy. Achy, inside, as if I needed something and couldn’t have it. I squirmed in his arms, a little uncomfortable.
But not from him.
Never from him.
It was impossible to deny. I loved this male.
“Mom!” Patrick’s exasperated huff broke through my daze. “Come on ! Fried Oreos.”
Simbel slowly grinned. “That’s what they call me.”
Impulsively I leaned forward and dropped a kiss on his nose. “Then you’d better go buy us some… dkaar .”
The brightness of his smile almost outshone his eyes’ green flare.