Chapter 16
Tessa
“I’m hungry.”
Linc is waiting for me when I walk into the kitchen.
“Like I told you five minutes ago, I’m working on it. I can’t make those potatoes boil any faster than they are and I just lit the grill so that’ll need some time to heat up.”
“Then can we start with the cake? It doesn’t need any cooking.”
He’s already peeling the tape off the cake box Bess handed me earlier.
“Hey! Hands off, buddy. First of all, that’s dessert, and secondly, it’s your brother’s cake, not yours.”
I snatch the box away from him, I wouldn’t put it past him to swipe his fingers through the icing like a three-year-old. When it comes to food, Lincoln has little restraint. The kid eats like a damn blue whale, just opening his mouth and inhaling it in as he moves through the kitchen.
When I got home fifteen minutes ago, the house was littered with discarded wrappers, a depleted chip bag, two apple cores, and an empty box that held the shortbread cookies I’d hidden in the drawer with the kitchen towels. My eldest is a one-man flock of locusts.
“Go put your laundry away like I asked you yesterday. It’s still all over the dining table and I’d rather not be serving dinner with your sports socks and boxers next to the plates.”
The halved mini potatoes are boiling in the pot, so I drain them in the sink before tossing them in a bowl with the dressing I threw together earlier.
“I don’t understand why we suddenly need to eat at the table,” Linc grumbles.
He reaches over my shoulder to try and steal a potato, but earns a crisp slap on his hand.
“I told you; Clem is coming for dinner.”
Grabbing a fistful of chives and my kitchen scissors, I snip pieces straight into the cooling potatoes.
“Why is that again?” he asks, propping his hip against the counter as he sticks close to the food. Biding his time for an opportunity when I’m not looking.
“Because it’s Remi’s birthday, and Clem has been very kind to your brother. To all of us, really. Inviting him for burgers is the least we can do. Besides, Clem is a nice guy, I like him.”
“But that means less for us.”
Trust my kid to skip right over my cue that I’m interested in Clem and circle back to the food.
“No, because I made more than I usually do. Just go clean up your stuff. Please,” I add, batting my eyelashes at him.
He rolls his eyes, but pushes away from the counter.
“Fine,” he grumbles.
“Thank you.”
I beam a smile at him, but when I turn to rinse my hands in the sink, he quickly reaches around me and snags a potato from the bowl, popping it in his mouth as he walks away, laughing.
“I hope that burned the roof of your mouth!” I call after him.
Knowing Linc, he’ll probably take anyone I choose to date in stride, as he does most things in life, but I suspect my youngest might take issue. Especially, since Clem is someone he likes.
I haven’t seen Remi since we got home. He took off upstairs with the new cell phone I gave him for his birthday this morning.
I handed it over and explained his temporary restrictions.
I don’t want him handing out his new phone number or talking to anyone he doesn’t know in person, and he is not to sign on to his social media accounts, download any apps, or join any chat groups.
He was less than pleased with those instructions, but as I pointed out to him, it was his chance to earn back some of the trust he’d lost.
I hold no illusions his relatively easy compliance today will last. Remi is a rebel by nature, much like yours truly was, and I fully expect us to butt heads soon enough again.
With my potato salad cooling as it soaks up the dressing, I dive into the fridge, digging for the bag of kale salad I picked up on the weekend. I bought it for me—the boys won’t eat it—but Clem might like it too. It’ll make for a slightly more balanced meal.
When I have everything in here ready, I grab the tray of burgers I stuck in the fridge, shove my feet in the pair of Crocs I keep by the back door, and head out on the deck.
I didn’t bother putting on a jacket, but damn, is it chilly.
My breath is visible when it hits the cold air, and the frosty breeze cuts right through my sweater.
After checking the temperature gauge is where I want it, I quickly toss the burgers on the grill. Then I close the lid, and rush back inside, just in time to see Linc opening the front door for Clem. I hadn’t even heard the doorbell.
For a brief moment his eyes find mine, before he turns to greet Linc. I head to the sink to wash my hands, while my son takes care of our guest, taking his coat and showing him in. Drying my hands on a towel, I turn to find Clem walking into my kitchen.
“Hey.”
I smile at him, as I catch a glimpse of Linc darting up the stairs with the remainder of his clean laundry in his arms. Clem grins back and stops two feet in front of me.
On impulse, but without hesitation, I bridge the distance and rise on my toes to kiss him.
Not much more than a firm press of my lips to his, but a clear message I like him in my space. At least I hope it is.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“Sure, what’ve you got?”
I pull open the fridge and give him an inventory.
“Beer, iced tea, Gatorade, orange juice, and bottled water. Sorry, we don’t have pop in the house or anything stronger than beer.”
I’m surprised when he says, “I’ll have an iced tea.”
“No beer?”
“Don’t wanna give your boys the wrong idea since I’ll be driving home later.”
It took me a while to see it, but yeah, Clem is one of the good ones. The guys you stop believing are real after life proves you wrong time and time again. This is just the latest in the growing list of checkmarks next to Clem’s name.
“I don’t think you’ll corrupt them having one beer, but I appreciate the consideration. You’re a good man, Clem Tanek. A good, decent man.”
He coughs out a laugh. “Good? Decent? You make me sound boring.”
“Oh, you are far from boring. Believe me.”
Pulling the pitcher of iced tea from the fridge, I pour him a glass. But when I turn around to hand it to him, the look in his eyes stops me.
Heat. Pure unadulterated heat that singes me right to the very tips of my toes.
“Momma! Is dinner ready?” Linc yells from upstairs.
“Oh shit,” I mumble, racing for my Crocs by the door.
My burgers.
Clem
“Mom makes them.”
I glance across the table at Tessa who keeps her eyes down on her plate, a lock of the hair she’s wearing loose tonight partly covering her face.
Linc’s response was to my comment these are some of the best burgers I’ve eaten, and asking where she bought them.
“Hats off,” I tell her. “They’re delicious. Full of flavor. What do you make them with?”
I already talked cars and football with the boys, but Tessa has been quietly listening instead of participating in the conversation. I guess those are maybe not her favorite subjects, which is why I’m shifting to the most excellent dinner she put together.
“They’re nothing special. I just sauté chopped onions, garlic, and peppers with paprika, a pinch of chili flakes, salt, and fresh ground black pepper.
Then I let that cool a little and add it to a mix of a quarter part pork to three-quarter parts lean beef or bison, a good squirt of ketchup, a heaping spoon of coarse mustard, and a handful or more of grated old cheddar.
I usually make a big batch at a time and freeze it. ”
“I’ll have to remember that. Although, I should probably invest in a new grill first. I ditched my last one when I moved into the firehouse. It was old and rusted clear through.”
“I couldn’t do without mine,” she shares. “I use it almost daily, summer or winter.”
“Mom’s burgers are the best any time of year,” Remi contributes with his mouth full, putting a soft, pleased smile on his mother’s mouth.
“I can see why.”
“Nope. Her rib eye steak,” Linc disagrees.
I listen to the two brothers bickering over which is better, as I finish my dinner, stealing an occasional glance at Tessa across the table.
“So…” Linc drawls moments later, when I return to the table from clearing the dishes.
Tessa is still in the kitchen, looking for a candle to stick on the cake, and it appears the boys have decided to corner me. They’re both looking at me.
“What’s your deal with Mom?” the oldest kid asks, his tone not necessarily unfriendly.
I’m using the term “kid” purely based on age-difference, because this brother is taller and seriously ripped, and could quite possibly wipe the floor with me. As it is, he doesn’t seem particularly aggressive.
“Yeah,” Remi underscores with a slightly sharper edge.
“I like your mother. Simple as that,” I state, taking my seat.
I keep my eyes on Linc, but hear the younger of the two scoff. I ignore that, because I have a feeling Remi will ultimately take his lead from the older brother’s response.
“She doesn’t date. Hasn’t dated since our sperm donor hightailed it out of town.”
I’m surprised by the sudden bitterness in the young man’s voice. He may present as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, but this last comment gives me the impression there is much more under the surface than he’d like you to know.
“Technically, we haven’t had a date yet, but I’m hoping to change that,” I offer.
“And you think she’ll say yes?”
“I think so.”
Suddenly, both boys look up and direct their attention over my head. I don’t have to hear her voice to know she is standing behind me.
“I know so,” she says firmly, putting a hand on my shoulder. “And I don’t need you boys meddling in my business.”
Remi snorts. “You meddle in mine,” he returns stubbornly.
“Child, you may have turned sixteen today, but you are still my responsibility. I am your parent. But even then, you won’t find me grilling your girlfriend, or yours for that matter,” she adds, shifting her focus to Linc.
“If I have an issue with you dating, I will talk to you about it. I would’ve liked my sons to have shown me the same respect. ”
The speech wasn’t directed at me, but still I could feel the scorch. I actually feel a little sorry for her sons, who look like they’ve been duly scolded.
The hand on my shoulder disappears, but seconds later Tessa is back carrying the cake with one single emergency candle stuck in the middle.
Then she smiles and asks, “Are we ready for cake?” as if she didn’t just quietly tear a strip off those boys.
I like this woman better every day.
The giant piece of carrot cake she serves me takes care of my yearly sugar quota, and will undoubtedly add more unnecessary padding to my midsection, but I wolf it down anyway. I’m not really a sweets guy, but this is damn tasty.
When I finally drop my fork on my empty plate, I’m full to bursting. Both boys already inhaled their food and asked to be excused, so it’s just Tessa and me at the table.
“Bess is a goddess,” she declares, leaning back with her hands on her stomach. “But I don’t think I can get up.”
“Then stay put, I’ll take care of the dishes.”
I manage to carry the dirty plates and the leftover cake to the kitchen.
The cake goes back in the box on the kitchen island, and I dump the plates in the sink, where the dinner dishes ended up as well.
Running hot water, I quickly rinse them and stack them all beside the sink.
Then I fill the sink with soapy water and start washing them by hand.
“We have a dishwasher, you know,” Tessa points out from behind me, pressing herself to my back.
“Yeah, well, save it for the breakfast dishes.” I twist my head around to give her a kiss. “I won’t be around for those.”
She mock-pouts. “You won’t?”
“Unless you want me to…” I tease.
She chuckles. “Oh, I want, don’t get me wrong. Unfortunately, I think a sleepover might be a little too fast-moving for my boys.”
I shake the water off my hands and turn around, pulling her against me.
“Good thing I have a nice big bed and no one to take into account. But no rush.”
She grins up at me, a faint blush on her cheeks. “Tell my body that.”
Just as I bend my head, my phone rings in my pocket. For a moment I’m tempted to ignore it and keep my focus on Tessa’s slightly parted lips, but she’s already taking a step back.
“Shouldn’t you get that?”
I should probably at least have a look at who the hell is calling me at this time of night. That rarely ever happens anymore.
One glance at my phone screen has the very short hair on my neck stand up.
“Yes, what’s up?”
“Where are you?” Omar Westover asks.
Omar is one of the Battaglia Security guys who were at the firehouse earlier. I watched them follow Tessa and Remi when they left to go home.
“At Tessa’s. Why?”
Tessa moves a little closer and looks at me with concern in her eyes.
“Because something is happening at the firehouse. We’re on our way.”