14. Liv #2
Stop catastrophizing, Liv, I lectured myself, as if I were one of my own clients. It had absolutely zero effect. I watched, frozen, as Theo squared his shoulders, lifted his chin…
…and shook my father’s hand. “Theo Penn,” he said, the last name rolling off his tongue like he’d said it a hundred times. “And thanks. Your mother makes me sound good.”
I exhaled with such force, it ruffled the lace curtains framing the window next to me. My mom shot me an inquiring look as she came up beside my dad, an apron tied around her waist and her cheeks still flushed from the heat of the oven.
“It’s nice to meet you, Theo. I’m Kate, Russ’s wife. Please forgive my appearance,” she said, smiling up at him. “Your duet with Ella was so alluring, I stepped away from the kitchen to listen.”
The ghost of a grin lifted the corner of Theo’s mouth.
I couldn’t tell if, like most men, he’d been taken in by her charm, or if he thought her over-the-top manners were proof of my family’s hoity-toity attitude.
Or maybe, he was preparing to tell her what he thought of her…
of all of us. Maybe he was waiting for everyone to let down their guard before going in for the kill.
We sat down at the table, Theo across from me. I picked at my food, terrified that any moment, this would all go to hell. That everything he’d said about being unable to stop thinking about me was a lie, buttering me up so I’d let the wolf in the door.
I took tiny bites of my bagel, waiting for the guillotine to fall, but somehow, it didn’t.
My father talked about his work as an investor and Theo didn’t leap from the table and accuse him of dealing in blood money.
My mother chided Chloe about her table manners and my daughter didn’t fling her napkin down and stomp from the room in a snit.
Theo answered every question my family put to him, talking easily about his work as a bar owner and musician, not giving any incriminating information away.
He didn’t cast me any inappropriate looks. Didn’t so much as brush my hand when he reached for the salt. In short, he behaved as he’d promised he would: like a new acquaintance and talented musician who was pleased to join us for brunch. I was so relieved, I felt dizzy.
“Thank God that’s over,” I whispered as I walked him to his car an hour later, after he’d shaken my father’s hand and my mother and grandmother had given him an honest-to-God hug. They liked him, which was more than I could say about most of the men I’d brought home.
Then again, I hadn’t brought him home, not in that sense. I’d snuck him into their midst like some freaking Trojan horse. And he hadn’t betrayed my trust.
“No kidding,” he said, letting out a breath. “That was rough.”
We stood on the sidewalk, facing each other. A brisk breeze blew, rustling the leaves of the camellias that flanked the walkway and sending their cherry-red petals flying. From the backyard, Chloe’s laughter drifted toward me on the wind.
I smoothed my hands down my jeans, the way I often did when I got nervous, then caught Theo watching and folded my arms over my chest instead. “I kept my side of the deal. So, what about yours? Does Grandma Ella look like your mom or your grandma?”
He took a long time to answer, and my heart thumped hard as I waited. “No,” he said at last. “I don’t think so. But she’s…well, old, obviously. No insult intended. It’s hard to tell.”
I sighed with relief, but my stomach was still churning. “I hate hiding something this big from my family, Theo. It makes me sick. And how the heck did you come up with Theo Penn?”
“Penn is my middle name. I use it when I play at the bar.” He gave me a wry smile.
“So it’s your secret identity,” I said, doing my best to smile back. “Like Superman and Clark Kent.”
“Sure, Liv. Just like that. Except without the superpowers. Or the kryptonite.”
“I think,” I said, scooping up a fallen camellia blossom and rubbing it between my fingers so the musky scent filled the air between us, “that Carters are your kryptonite.”
Theo swallowed hard. He’d shaved this morning, but stubble had already started to darken his cheeks and jaw.
The mossy hue of his shirt turned his hazel eyes a bright, translucent green, the color of sea glass, worn by the waves.
I found myself mesmerized, as much by the deep emotion in them as by their striking color.
“Please stop looking at me like that,” he said, his voice gruff.
I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I love the way you look at me.”
He leaned forward, his breath warm on my cheek—rich dark coffee and a hint of marmalade, sweetness and a harsh bite together.
Which pretty much summed up the way I felt about Theo.
Having him this close made me want to rethink all the very logical reasons why it would be a mistake to press my lips to his.
And from the way his gaze lingered on my mouth, I was pretty sure I wasn’t the only one.
“The problem is,” he said, each word slow and deliberate, “it makes me want to take you to bed and keep you there for a long, long time. And, given that our families hate each other, that would be a terrible idea.”
Heat broke over me, prickling my skin. “Would it?” I whispered before I could think better of it, and he gave a slow grin, equal parts hunger and regret.
“Thank you for letting me meet her. I know you didn’t have to.” He ran his fingers through my hair, a light, fleeting touch that made me ache for more. “Goodbye, Olivia.”