Midnight Sommelier - Anne Malcom Page 0,50

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“Babe, you damn near came out of your shoes.” His eyes flickered downward to my Valentinos. “Those are some fucking shoes.” He looked back up, and it was all I could do not to melt at his feet. “You’re wearin’ those tonight.” He yanked me forward. “Only those.”

I swallowed roughly. “Okay,” I murmured, unable to say another thing.

Zeke held me for a moment longer. A moment too long, when there were many eyes likely looking for some fresh gossip to share over Whispering Angel Rosé at their next book club.

But then he let me go and I hated the distance between us, was almost willing to pounce on him right here in the driveway, fuck whatever the book club would say about us.

Almost.

If there was only my reputation to worry about, I would’ve climbed him like a tree in the middle of town. But whatever was said about me would eventually get back to the boys. No way were they going to hear that their mother was some slut taking up with the first halfway decent man to move in next door after a year of being a widow.

To be fair, Zeke was more than halfway decent. In fact, he was so decent it should’ve been indecent. But that wasn’t the point.

“Repeating my question. Where you off to looking like that?” Zeke asked, devouring me with his gaze.

I swallowed roughly. “The homecoming game’s tonight.”

He raised a brow. “You’re going to the homecoming game?”

lI hated how well he knew me—loved it at the same time. “Yeah, it’s one of the requirements to be a Black Mountain mother. Support the Cougars.” I looked away, suddenly uncomfortable under his penetrating gaze. “I haven’t exactly been the model of the Black Mountain mother.”

“There’s a handbook for being the mother to a teenager?” he asked, amusement peppering his husky tone.

“It’s not written down anywhere, but trust me, there is,” I replied, folding my arms. It all seemed so stupid, so insignificant to talk about, with him standing here. I was embarrassed admitting to him that I was trying to conform. Did it make me less attractive to him, and why did I care so much?

“Luna’s going?” he asked after a beat.

The way he softened ever so slightly with the mere mention of his daughter always got me. It was a punch to the stomach and attractive as all hell. Dangerous as all hell, too, because it was making me like parts of him that didn’t have to do with his appearance, the fact he was incredible in the bedroom, and liked eating pussy.

This gave me feelings that were beyond physical attraction.

And I couldn’t be ready for that.

Shouldn’t be ready for that.

I nodded in response to his question. “She and Ryder are shopping, and I’ll be meeting them there.”

“Shopping?” he repeated.

I smiled. “Yeah, you’ve got one special daughter to convince my son to do something so torturous and painful like go shopping.” I paused. “I think there is a guy involved.”

Zeke immediately stiffened, all softness gone, the hard, biker alpha father replacing it. “A guy?”

“Easy tiger,” I said. “I’ve already had Ryder report back on this one. He’s a good kid.”

“No teenage boys are good fuckin’ kids,” he ground out.

My heart stuttered. Behind that anger, that really scary alpha anger, was hurt and worry. And he had reason to worry, what with his daughter being kidnapped and then having some jock asshole try to force himself on her.

“You’re not wrong,” I agreed. “But I know his mother. And she raised a kind, respectful, trustworthy young man. She’d have his ass if he was anything different. Trust me, she’s scary. Almost as scary as you.”

Something moved in his gaze. He was slightly amused, but not amused enough to turn off his protective father instinct.

“Ryder has her back,” I said, trying a different angle. “He wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

He kept up the glowering badass thing for a minute then relaxed ever so slightly. “Yeah, the one decent teenage boy, the one I could stomach dating my daughter, and he’s fuckin’ gay,” he grumbled.

Warmth spread up my belly with his words. As a parent, you could do everything right, everything by the proverbial book—which I almost had been doing up until a year ago—and still your kid could turn out to steal women’s underwear or become a heroin addict. It was a very real and stifling fear that paralyzed me every now and then, thoughts of the thousand ways I was possibly screwing up my boys beyond