Midnight Sommelier - Anne Malcom Page 0,55

straight face only because of the current situation. “Well, Mark Twain became Mark Twain because he didn’t do stupid things like ride motorcycles.”

“Motorcycles aren’t stupid,” he argued. “Zeke looks badass riding his.”

I sucked in a breath. My son was not apparently bothered by Zeke being in the kitchen making out with his mother. No, he was too busy talking about what a badass he was.

“Buddy, it’s not a motorcycle that makes a man look like a badass,” Zeke said, stepping forward and kneeling down to his level. “Anyone can ride a motorcycle. But not everyone treats women right. Has a code. Respect.” Zeke’s eyes flickered over my son’s outfit. “a sense of style.” He winked.

He winked at my son, and my ovaries almost fucking exploded.

“Are you staying for dinner?” Jax asked, eyes hopeful.

My heart clenched. Jax was not territorial about this strange man in his house. He was already attached. A handful of seconds was all it took.

“Um, I’m sure Mr. Carson has important things to do—”

“I’ll do you one better, buddy. I’ll make you dinner,” he said, interrupting me and not looking at me. “I’ve got steaks in the fridge at home. You’ve got a good looking grill.”

“I’ll run out for extras,” Alexis offered far too cheerfully.

I scowled at her. That traitor.

Zeke straightened, but still didn’t look at me. “Then it’s a plan.”

“I’m proud of you,” Alexis said, leaning back in her chair, watching the last of the sun escape the sky.

I glanced over to her. “For what? Getting into a fistfight at a football game and making sure I’d be the talk of my son’s school for the rest of the week?” I asked blandly.

Ryder had arrived home not long after the whole fiasco in the kitchen. I’d braced for the teenage scowl and declaration of hatred. Maybe a passionate statement on how I was ruining his life. I’d surely treated my parents to enough of those speeches over the years.

They hadn’t deserved to face that much anger and hatred, of course. But a teenager didn’t much mind whether or not their parents deserved things. They were narcissistic creatures far too worried about what was happening in their own lives to see the sacrifices their parents were making for them. They didn’t want to see their parents as flawed humans doing the best they could.

Most teenagers at least. I’d forgotten my teenager was a unicorn of sorts. He came into the kitchen, rushed over to me, and held my hand in his already large ones—man hands, when did my baby boy get man hands?—then lifted them up to lay a gentle kiss on my bruised knuckles.

“I’m proud of you, Mom,” he murmured.

I hadn’t spoken, of course, because if I’d tried, I would’ve broken down into an emotional mess at my seventeen-year-old’s feet. I didn’t do that. Not anymore.

I just let him hug me, kiss my hand, and tell me how epic I was.

I would’ve liked to correct him on the fact that fighting at a public event was in no way epic, but I’d pick my battles.

Ryder did not seem at all bothered at the fact Zeke emerged from the patio with steaks ready to grill. Didn’t act like it was anything unusual. The two of them were familiar, friendly even. Despite Luna spending most of her time over here, there were nights that Ryder disappeared next door for dinner, movies, or whatever it was they did. He’d mentioned in passing that he liked Zeke, seemed to respect him. And that didn’t change seeing him at the grill once manned by his father.

I’d worked harder than I had in a long time trying to act like this evening was nothing more than my son’s friend’s father sharing a meal with us. Like it was something that happened all the time.

No sexual undertones or guilt.

Wine helped.

“Don’t be stupid,” Alexis said, propelling me back to the present—the kids in bed, Zeke retreating to his house with a polite goodbye and intense gaze in my direction. “They’ll be talking about it for at least a month.”

I flipped her the bird.

“I mean I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself,” she continued.

“Dad wouldn’t be proud of me,” I said. “He would’ve wanted me to deal with that situation calmly. With my words. Be the bigger person and all.”

“Babe, as much as I adored our father and everything he had to say, sometimes there just isn’t room for the bigger person,” Alexis said, surprising me. Her gaze glanced over to the fence