after the reception I catered for his brother’s wedding.” I was stalling, I knew it, but only because I had no idea what I wanted to say or why I was even bringing Nixx up at all.
Nixx rattled me, and not just earlier when he dropped off the ovens, but the whole day. Going from a year of nothing but intense staring to some major over the top alpha behaviour from him was confusing, and quite frankly, I didn’t need it. Want it? Maybe.
No! Relationships and I did not have a good track record. My history was just one man, and I didn’t even manage to pick the right one then. I often wondered had it not been for getting pregnant, would that have given Alec and I the time to fall in love for real? Not that I was wishing away the direction my life took, having Dillion and becoming a mum was the best achievement to come out of my marriage from hell. I might have failed at being a wife, but being a good mum made up for that in spades. Dillion came first, always. The feelings Nixx evoked deep inside me had to stay exactly that. Deep and buried.
“Um, it is just that … um, his mother invited us to go to their farm, the Triple H. She and I were chatting and I told her you like to ride dirt bikes. She offered the farm’s paddocks to ride around and we can even use the tennis courts,” I told him, deferring from whatever I’d actually intended.
“Wow! That is cool. So if his mum offered, why did you mention Fenixx?” Dillion countered.
Damn, smart kid.
Pulling the plug from the sink hole, I busied myself with wiping down the sink, and tucking the dishcloth and washing liquid in the cupboard below the sink.
“You know, just letting you know what his mum offered, and stuff,” I mumbled, feeling my face heat up for what felt like the thousandth time today.
Damn sexy, flannel-shirt wearing, maddening cowboy.
“So translation, you like-like Fenixx Hott?” Dillion enquired, shocking me with his insight. How on earth does this kid do that?
“No, son of mine. I do not like-like Nixx Hott,” I shot back, sticking my tongue out to cover my shock and embarrassment. “You are on kitchen duty tonight at the restaurant, so you best get in your room and finish your homework, or you won’t be riding any bike or visiting anyone after school next week, young man.”
“Whatever you say, Mother,” Dillion snorted, then laughed when his voice broke slightly. My boy was going through the change in life all teenage boys went through at some stage. His voice was getting deeper all the time, but occasionally the adorable high-pitched scratch reared its head, ruining his newfound growl.
“Ha-ha, that’s what you get for making fun of your mummy.” Poking my tongue out at him again, grateful for the perfect timing of hormones to get me off the hook. One thing Dillion hated was me calling myself mummy, I knew it and was prepared to use it to stop him talking about Nixx.
“Geez Mum, must you,” Dillion grumbled, tossing the tea towel at me, hitting me in the side of the head. “And don’t think I didn’t see that look on your face when you called him Nixx, either woman.” Throwing me a triumphant grin, my smart-mouthed kid left the kitchen, leaving me speechless.
Damn. He had me there.
***
For the twentieth time, I found myself looking at the front door of the restaurant, a frown forming between my brows.
Where the devil was he? Every night at seven o’clock, Nixx walked through the door, wound his way around the tables, sat himself in the back booth closest to the open kitchen, and stayed sitting there staring at me. Five minutes ago, when I looked at my watch, the pretty timepiece told me it was nearly eight and there was no sign of him.
Maybe I pissed him off, or perhaps he took what I said about no chance for us on board and decided to cut his losses. Maybe, just maybe, he saw that he was wasting his time and money chasing me.
“Bastard. So much for staking his claim,” I muttered, yanking out the flexi hose and filled the glass on the bar, squirting out lemonade until it reached just below the rim of the glass then slamming it down on the drink tray, making the bubbly soft drink flow all over the metal tray.
“Something pissing you off,