Midnight Sommelier - Anne Malcom Page 0,18

“Second, you’re gay, and that makes me so happy since I start at Black Mountain tomorrow, and going by the uniforms, you go there too. I need friends. Girls tend to be super bitchy to new students, and I’m totally off any kind of heterosexual guy until forever.” She glanced at the stack of books in Ryder’s arms. “Oh, and you’re an F. Scott Fitzgerald fan. Yes, we’re going to be great friends.”

She said all of this with confidence and without sounding like a snooty bitch. I was impressed, and judging by the grins on all three of the boys’ faces, so were they. “We’re going in to get sodas and then sit by the pool. You in?” Ryder asked. His voice was warm and friendly since that was the kind of kid my son was.

She clapped her hands. “Totally in. Lead the way, babe.”

Ryder leaned in to kiss my cheek in a way that melted my goddamn heart before leading everyone into the house. Jax wasn’t even acting like his mother existed because I was pretty sure he was too busy falling in love.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Langmore,” Luna said as she breezed by.

“I like you, Luna,” I replied. “Please don’t jeopardize that by calling me by my mother-in-law’s name. It’s Bridget.”

She smiled. “Gotcha.”

A knock at the door about thirty minutes later perked up my anxiety that had waned since the kids got home. The energy in the house could almost be called happy, something that had been sorely lacking this past year. Luna was a huge reason for that. There was a brightness to her, an aura—I did not believe in that shit but there was no other word for it—that warmed up the place. Chased away some ghosts, at least for half an hour.

Then the knocking.

I would go so far as saying it was pounding.

“Oh, that’s probably my dad!” Luna called from the pool area. Music was humming through the outdoor speakers and there was an easy chatter over the top of it.

“I’ll let him know you’re here!” I called back, hesitant to break up the backyard party that made my house feel a little more normal. You know that house as a teenager that had the great pool, stocked pantry, and easygoing parents? You could walk right in without knocking? That used to be my house.

Ryder had a lot of friends. He was like his father—charismatic, likeable.

But then David died and something dark and ugly settled inside our house that made those visits cease.

“He’s kind of intense,” Luna replied, sounding a little uneasy.

“I can handle intense,” I called back, walking toward the front door. I worried about what she meant by intense. My hackles were rising at the thought of anything happening in her home life. Then again, I didn’t know what it was like to be a parent of a teenage girl, especially one as beautiful as Luna. I could see David being a little intense in his protection over her.

I opened the door. Intense was not the right word.

Smoldering was closer.

Downright menacing.

The man in question took up the entire doorway. And we had a large doorway. It was impossible for him to take up the entire thing, but that’s what it seemed like. He was an eclipse, blocking out the sun and bringing midnight.

He towered over me, which wasn’t exactly saying much since I was barefoot and five foot four. But the way he towered had nothing to do with his height. It was about his energy. Something that radiated from him.

He was wearing all black. Jeans. Motorcycle boots, a long Henley even though it was creeping toward ninety outside. His hair was midnight ink, messy, and curled around his face. His face. All angles, all hard. His eyes were narrowed and tinged with danger that had my stomach dipping.

“You’re Luna’s dad?” I asked, because if he wasn’t he had been hired by Martin to kill me.

“She here?” His voice was clipped, deep and gravelly.

Something twitched in my stomach at that voice, some reaction from a place that was supposed to be dead.

I nodded, swallowing roughly. “Yeah. She’s out back by the pool hanging with the boys, two of whom are gay. The other is not and completely in love with her but he’s eight years old so you’re safe there,” I said quickly.

He didn’t say anything, just continued to glare at me with that violent intensity.

It was uncomfortable—the silence, the stare. I was not someone to feel uncomfortable anymore, it was a