The Right One - Felice Stevens Page 0,37
paled, then flushed bright red. “No? You could’ve fooled me. It felt like you knew exactly what you were doing.”
“No—yeah, I mean I shouldn’t have done it.”
Morgan wiped his mouth with a napkin and edged away from him. “Forget about it.”
Forget about it? Fuck no, his body screamed. How can you forget about a kiss like that? A kiss that woke your body up from the cold, like a seed in the frozen ground waiting for winter’s bleakness to melt and give way to the warmth of spring. Leo had spent his life in winter, and Morgan’s kiss was his spring awakening.
“No, I’m not saying this right, Goddamn it.” Leo pounded the table, and Morgan jumped, his face tight and frightened.
“Stop it. I said forget about it. It’s fine.” Without another word, Morgan took off across the yard and into the house. Marla rushed after him while Peter, his face a mask, joined Leo at the table.
“Care to explain what the hell just happened?”
Surprised at Peter’s controlled anger, Leo pushed his hands through his hair. “I have no fucking clue. None at all.” He picked up Morgan’s beer and drank.
“Stop that. Drinking isn’t going to help.” Peter pushed the bottle away from him.
“I know. Nothing will. Now fuck off.”
Despite Peter’s protestations, Leo downed the rest of the beer. It was the only way to erase the memory of the hurt on Morgan’s face. This time it mattered, and he had no idea how to fix it.
* * *
ELEVEN
* * *
Stupid, dumb idiot. Morgan clenched and unclenched his fists as he stood shaking in the kitchen. Too humiliated to show his face again, he took out his phone and swiped at the screen to call for a car. Everything would be all right once he got home and figured out a way to never see Leo again.
“Morgan?” Marla burst in, the screen door slamming shut behind her. “Oh good, you’re here.”
“Not for long. I’m calling a car.”
“No, please don’t do that. I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be. Leo is…complicated.”
“He’s a fu—a jerk.” Not wanting to curse in front of her, Morgan bit his tongue, but he couldn’t help wanting to run home and hide. Never talking to Leo again would be a start. More embarrassing, a hot rush of tears made it impossible to see, and he blinked rapidly to hold them in.
Marla gave him a moment to compose himself, busying herself around the kitchen. She handed him a glass of ice water, and he gulped it down.
“Better?” Her eyes brimmed with sympathy. “Do you want to sit for a minute and talk?”
“Marla—”
“Please?”
She tugged him to the large oak table, and too polite to resist, he followed her. Didn’t mean he had to agree with her.
“I know you think I’m going to make Leo’s case for him. But I’m not.”
Intrigued despite how upset he was, Morgan shrugged. “Why not?”
“Because I know as much about Leo today as I did when Peter first introduced us. Which is next to nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing?”
“Exactly that. He hasn’t told us anything about himself, other than his father passed away years ago, and his mother lives in Brooklyn. From the bits and pieces I’ve been privy to, I know she was horrible to him, but we’ve never talked about it, and I won’t pry.”
Morgan thought he hid his smile well, but Marla giggled. “I know what you’re thinking. Yes, I’m nosy, but only when I really care. And as annoyingly frustrating as Leo is, I know he has a good heart. I mean, he visits his mother every week even though they don’t get along. Most sons would blow her off, but not Leo. Plus, he always helps Peter if he needs coverage at the garage and Georgie can’t do it, or me around the house with anything. I’m hoping this business will make them even closer—I kid them that Leo’s like the third brother, but it’s not a joke.”
The only thing Morgan heard out of that whole conversation was that Leo’s mother was horrible to him.
“What happened with his mother?”
Marla raised her hands, palms up. “No idea. He hasn’t even told Peter, but I always know when Leo’s gone to visit her because he comes here or to the garage afterward and beats himself up.”
“What?”
“In the ring?” When Morgan lifted a brow and shook his head, Marla continued.
“Oh, yeah, you wouldn’t know. Peter has a makeshift boxing ring in the back, and the guys like to spar, but