23. No Necking
Chapter 23
No Necking
Whitney
I loved how protective Mensa could be. From the tone of his voice to his words, he hated that I was having to deal with this uncomfortable conversation. But in all fairness, most parents would be concerned about their only son taking up with a woman who – from the outside – seemed to be making half-baked decisions.
I grinned at him. “It is all right, honey.”
When I faced his parents again, they were looking at the two of us with disbelief. Since I didn’t understand that, I powered past it. “Doing undercover work is tough, lonely, and for me, it was leading to burn-out. After a routine evaluation, I was encouraged to take some time to work on my mentality and learn not to be so engrossed in my cases.”
“Engrossed?” Celeste asked.
I nodded once. “Sorry, that’s the term the evaluator used. I was taking my work home with me, so to speak.”
Dean narrowed an eye at me. “You mean, mentally.”
“Yes,” I said.
All the nerves I fought off earlier kept me from considering what his parents would say about my sudden change of careers. The room had gone eerily silent.
Celeste’s eyes, so similar to Mensa’s, darted between the two of us during the ensuing silence. “I have never seen him like this.”
I looked at Dean, but quickly realized she was referring to Mensa. I turned to him and I fought rearing my head back at his fierce scowl.
“You should have seen them at Bayou Moon,” Riley muttered.
“Or anytime she came to Twisted when he didn’t want her there,” Finn chimed in.
I shot him a dry look. “I don’t think that’s what she’s referring to.”
Riley grinned at me. “Oh yeah, it is.”
Celeste pressed her lips together for a moment before her eyes widened. “Speaking of Twisted Talons, have you done anything to protect yourself against another shooting?”
Mensa sighed, but Finn spoke.
“Not much we can do unless we all wear Kevlar, and that ain’t happening. That shit gets hot fast.” Finn’s body jerked ever so slightly, and I guessed Riley gave him a kick under the table. “Sorry, that stuff.”
I chuckled silently.
“What’s so funny?” Dean asked.
I looked up, wondering if I’d put my foot in it. Maybe Mensa’s parents were more strait-laced than I thought. Well, if I’d made a bad impression, this would only seal the deal.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that your son is a member of a motorcycle club. It’s surprising that Riley expects Finn to keep his conversation profanity-free.”
Celeste speared a chunk of pot roast. “There’s no way to keep people from carrying guns into that bar?”
“Not really, Ma,” Mensa muttered.
She gave a short shake of her head.
“I’m more concerned about the Corrupt Chrome member who chased the two of you,” Finn muttered.
I squeezed Mensa’s leg to keep him from telling Finn we knew who chased us. Even if Mensa’s parents weren’t going to tell anyone about Wyatt, I wanted to do everything I could to protect his undercover status.
Celeste aimed wide eyes at Mensa. “Chased? What’s he talking about?”
“Sorry, man,” Finn muttered.
“It’s fine,” Mensa said. “You don’t need to worry, Ma.”
Celeste’s head tilt conveyed serious attitude. “Oh, I don’t, do I? If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you ten thousand times, I will never stop worrying about you. Especially since you continue to ride a motorcycle and all these other people are in their cars while texting , and you tell me not to worry.”
Mensa sat back in his seat, and I wondered if he was going to walk out the door. “Ma, we were chased, I lost them. Everything is fine.”
Celeste raised an eyebrow. “ We were chased? Who’s we?” She tipped her head toward me. “Did you have her on your bike?”
Mensa nodded, but from the energy coming off him, he was struggling to keep his temper in check.
“Good grief. Why would you put her on your motorcycle? If you’re being chased, you should have gone to a police station. For that matter, you should have loaded into Riley’s car.”
Mensa let out a long exhale. “The moment shots were fired, Finn was taking care of Riley.” He tipped his head toward me. “Her car had been stolen, so we didn’t have any other choice than my bike. If I weren’t part of a club, I might have gone to the police station, Ma. But it doesn’t matter. It’s done. We’re safe, and that’s it.”
Dean turned to Celeste. “He’s right, honey. Let it go.”
I couldn’t stop my mouth from running. “To be fair, I told him we should have waited for the police to arrive.”
Celeste looked at Dean as if to say, ‘See?’
Mensa’s stern tone stole my attention though. “And we’d have been shot, Whitney.”
I gave him a closed-lip smile. “Not if we’d taken cover, but like your dad says, we should let it go.”
“What’d you do to the potatoes tonight, Auntie Celeste? Did you use a different seasoning?”
Celeste glanced over to Riley and nodded. “I did.” She looked at me. “Where are you from, Whitney?”
“Maryland, not far from Ocean City.”
Dean’s face lit up with his grin. “I love that area. The crab cakes can’t be beat.”
We continued to eat while I endured a variety of new-girlfriend questions from his parents. It wasn’t the ideal ‘meet the parents’ dinner, but what could I expect? It wasn’t every day I had dinner with people who were related to an investigation subject.
For some reason, the mundane questions felt like exaggerated small talk, and it drained me more than Celeste’s pointed questions about the investigation or the bar. I don’t know if he sensed my unease, but Finn jumped into the conversational fray and diverted the focus away from me.
In no time, I carried my plate to the kitchen, following Mensa. Celeste and Dean had stayed at the table chatting with Finn and Riley.
No sooner had I set my plate next to the sink, than Mensa whirled to me and wrapped his arms around me.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
He kissed me, which answered my question somewhat.
Luckily he kept it brief. When he let me go, I peered up at him. “What was that for?”
The left side of his lips quirked. “You’re something else, Blume.”
“I still don’t know what the big deal is.”
He shook his head. “You’ll deny this, but Mom wasn’t cool with you.”
“You’re right, I would deny that since any parent would be concerned about their son bringing home a flake—”
“You are not a flake.”
I dipped my chin. “I was going to say, ‘flake y woman ,’ which, from the outside looking in, I appear to be.”
He mirrored my chin dip. “You got a raw deal – no matter what you tell me – and you’re taking care of a family business.”
“Many might see that as selling myself short.”
He shook his head. “Bullshit. You handed me a diatribe about how difficult it is to run a small business. In no way is that selling yourself short. Hell, I’ve heard Sandy mention what Nadia charges for a new cut. If you take over and grow that business, you’ll be successful and anyone who’s got a problem with it can fuck right off.”
My body shook with my chuckle. “Telling people that won’t help me grow my business, honey.”
He stepped back and rinsed our plates. “No, but it’s the attitude you need to have so you aren’t worked over by anyone in the future.”
“Kenneth, are you bringing in dessert? I made your favorite angel food cake with the icing you love,” Celeste called from the dining room.
“I’ll bring it in, Ma,” Mensa said.
Riley and Finn brought the dinner plates to the sink. While Finn rinsed them, Riley grabbed dessert plates.
“Do we need more forks?” I asked.
Riley shut the cabinet door. “Only you and Mensa. Auntie Celeste told us to save ours before we came in here.”
I grabbed two forks and mentally prepared myself for more small talk.
Mensa wrapped his arms around me from behind and nuzzled my neck. “We’ll be out of here soon, woman. Relax.”
I exhaled. “I’m fine.”
“No, but you will be. You need another glass of wine?”
With my head tipped back against his shoulder, I looked him in the eye. “Not if I’m going to drive us home.”
He did a long blink and gave a short shake of his head. “You’re not driving us home. Live it up, woman.”
I pulled free of his hold. “Now you tell me to live it up.”
“Take the wine bottle to the table. I gotta grab the cake.”
I set a fork at Mensa’s setting, poured more wine for Riley, Celeste, and myself and then sat across from Dean.
Celeste aimed a smile at me. “I’m sorry if I was overbearing earlier. Kenneth hasn’t brought anyone to dinner… ever. Unless you count Finn and Gage.”
My brows furrowed. “Gage?”
Riley grinned. “She’s talking about Gamble. She won’t use anyone’s road names.”
“It’s clear my son cares for you a great deal.”
“And you can leave it at that, Mom, because anything else isn’t your business,” Mensa said, setting the cake on the table.
“Mensa,” I chided.
“No way, Whitney. I like that she apologized, but you aren’t answering any more questions. This cake is too damned good for any of us to be uncomfortable.”
“How about you cut the cake? Then all of us will be too busy stuffing our faces,” Dean suggested.
The way he said it sounded exactly like Mensa, and I couldn’t stop my chuckle.
“You find that funny?” Mensa asked.
I shrugged a shoulder. “Sort of. He sounds just like you… so I can see where you get it.”
“Where are you goin?” Mensa asked, tagging me at my hip before I could get to the master bathroom.
I looked up at him. “The bathroom. Hate to tell you this, but my period started earlier so I’m putting on my pajamas and brushing my teeth.”
He shifted so we were face to face. “You in pain?”
“Not right now.”
He stared at a point behind me for a beat. “Do you always abstain during your period?”
My head tilted. “No, but you can’t want to—”
“Woman, I’ll leave you alone if it bothers you, but my guess is this is like phone sex. You said it didn’t do it for you, but hell if it didn’t work for you when it was me on the phone with you.”
I twisted my lips to the side. “That’s true, but this is different.”
His eyes met mine, and they were warm. “You know how Mom said that angel food cake is my favorite?”
I nodded. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
His eyes twinkled with mischief. “My three favorite things to eat are pussy, Skittles, and bacon. In that order. Always .”
I tipped my head back. “You are not serious.”
With his thumb and forefinger at my chin, he tipped my head down an inch. “Always, Blume. I don’t have a problem with it. We’ll stop if it really bothers you. Otherwise, period schmeriod, baby. That’s what towels are for.”
I flung my head back with my cackle. “Says the man who doesn’t have to do the laundry! And only you could get away with saying ‘period schmeriod’ to me.”
He stared at me until my humor faded. “It’s light right now, yeah?”
My hands came up in question. “How do you know all this? You’re an only child!”
His chin dipped. “You might have noticed that Mom has a way of getting in your business, but she also has a way of oversharing her own business – though she said it was so I’d be a man with a real understanding of women because Dad could only give me a male perspective on women.”
I nodded once. “That kind of makes sense in a weird way.” And it probably had something to do with his ability to read me.
He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me thoroughly. When he ended it, I felt dazed, and I loved the look in his eyes as he stared at me. “Give me a shot, Blume. Might just rock your world… all over again.”
I shoved my hands up and under his shirt. “You know, you would make a great sales person because you’re very convincing, Ragstone.”
He laughed and unzipped my dress. It fell and pooled at my feet. “That’s funny, because I thought the very same thing about you that night in the hotel room.”
“What? I didn’t convince you to have sex with—”
His tongue slid along his lower lip. “Wasn’t talking about the sex, babe. I’m talking about the wine and Skittles. Nobody else could have convinced me to do that shit.”
I yanked his shirt up and he pulled it over his head. “I guess that makes us even.”
The sight of his tattoos always stole my attention. His body was a work of art without them, but add in all of that intricate ink, and I was mesmerized. He had flames licking along his rib cage; a small Riot MC patch sat on his left pec.
My perusal of his tattoos was cut short when he dropped his underwear and laid on his back in the bed. “Hurry up, Blume. I need my second dessert, baby.”
I climbed up on the bed, he hauled me into position, and to my surprise, he rocked my world all over again.
From behind the counter at Hard Pressed, Aunt Nadia held her coffee mug aloft, and shook her head at Mensa. “Why are you dropping her off?”
“No need for us to both drive, since I’m sticking around until lunchtime.”
Aunt Nadia sipped her coffee and blinked at him repeatedly. “I need her to have a vehicle – today especially, Mensa. The beginning of the week is when I get orders shipped out, and she has to get to the UPS store.”
“Can’t she borrow your car?” he asked.
Aunt Nadia hesitated. “She could, but neither one of us likes that. ”
“It’s for her own good… in fact, having her in your car is ideal, since Rod’s got people on the look-out for her Elantra.”
I shot Mensa a dry look. “Those bikers have better things to do than search for me.”
Both of them ignored me.
Aunt Nadia narrowed her eyes on Mensa. “How long are you Riot boys gonna let this go on? There was a time when this would have been dealt with and the dust would have settled.”
Mensa’s head dipped just a fraction. “That time is gone, Nadia. We went legit years ago now, and we’re going to keep it that way. Police investigations don’t move as swiftly as Brink did.”
The immediate change in Aunt Nadia’s demeanor made me brace. It only made Mensa grin.
“I ought to wipe that smirk right off your face, young man.”
Mensa shifted his gaze to me. “You didn’t tell her anything.”
My eyes widened. “Don’t you drag me into this. You dug your own hole, genius.”
Aunt Nadia glared at me. “What did he tell you?”
I pressed my lips together and debated the most diplomatic response. “It doesn’t matter, Aunt Nadia. It’s your story to tell, or not, and I’ll respect that either way.”
“Damn straight you will.”
I glowered at Mensa.
“Why are you mean-mugging me, Blume?”
“Because she’s pissed at me, when you’re the one who brought all this up in the first place.”
Aunt Nadia pointed a bony finger at Mensa. “Get her mess taken care of. She can’t be tip-toeing around town for months on end.”
“It’s been two weeks,” I muttered.
Aunt Nadia glared at me. “Three, young lady, or did the four days you spent in Jackson, slip your mind?”
I peeked over her shoulder and into her mug. Two-thirds of it held black coffee. “Drink your coffee, Aunt Nadia.” I lifted my eyes to Mensa’s. “And you need to learn – never mess with her before she’s had at least one cup of java.”
That earned me narrowed eyes from both of them.
“Did you print those labels Friday afternoon?” Aunt Nadia asked.
I smiled. “Yes, and they’re on the appropriate boxes already. I’ll go triple check the orders, and seal them up.”
Aunt Nadia nodded, then turned to Mensa. “You can go help her, so you’re both out of my hair. And no necking back there.”
I swallowed back my laughter, because I’d forgotten how ornery Aunt Nadia could be without her caffeine.