I’m a confident man by nature, but Luna’s faith in me makes me feel like I could easily tackle the world. Though I could offer her the entirety of the Earth in my hands and she wouldn’t be the slightest bit impressed. That’s not what drives her, and needing to be more than a wallet and good looks to interest her excites me in a way I hadn’t anticipated.
When dessert is served, she moans in delight at the vanilla mascarpone mousse, and I look over to see that she’s got a tiny dollop of it on her lip. Going for broke, I decide to push the line a little bit.
“Babe, come here,” I tell her quietly, knowing the whole table can still easily hear me.
Though I’m focused on her lip, I see her swallow thickly. Keeping my eyes open and on hers, I tilt her chin up gently and place a tender kiss right over the wayward mousse, letting the tip of my tongue dance over the sweetness as I remove it.
“Delicious,” I whisper as I pull away. She delicately dabs at her lips with her napkin, and for some weird reason, I feel like she’s wiping my kiss off and want to mark her again.
“Newlyweds are the cutest, don’t you think?” Elena asks Dad, her hand propping up her chin as she looks at Luna and me with hearts in her eyes.
I lick my own lips and then smirk at him, knowing he’s stuck.
“Cuter than puppy dog shit,” Dad answers. He knows something’s up. Almost all of us do, but in a way, I keep forgetting that it’s fake with Luna. For the tiniest of seconds, it almost feels . . . not real, exactly, because we’re definitely not married, but like a real date?
I do my best to stay focused but find my mind wandering to Luna again and again. I keep checking to make sure she’s comfortable, that she’s got what she needs, and that no one is eyeballing her in a way that makes her nervous. I keep my hand on her thigh because it lets me feel in-sync with her, and I’ve noticed that every time she feels uncertain about something, she wiggles her feet, so by touching her, I can respond as soon as I feel the movement.
By the time dinner is done, I feel like we’ve made our case to Elena. If she doesn’t want to work with Blue Lake Assets and me for her portfolio management, then it wasn’t meant to be. We’ve done all we can do. I damn sure know I’ve done all I can do, and some things I probably shouldn’t have.
So when the evening is coming to a close, I feel good about walking Elena and Claire to the front door, even though Mom and Dad follow along. They shake hands, and then I have one last moment to seal the deal.
Elena hugs Luna and me at the same time, her head between us and an arm on each of our shoulders. “Thank you for making a boring family business dinner bearable,” she whispers, then she winks as she pulls away. She obviously heard Cole’s comment and thankfully, found it funny. “Best I’ve had in ages.”
Claire gives me a dead-eyed stare in place of a goodbye and then follows her aunt. Before she gets far, Grace pops her head around the doorframe. “Tell Jacob I said hi!” she shouts, waving her hand as though Jacob can see her. Claire glances over her shoulder. There might be a tiny hint of a smile, or more likely from what I’ve seen from Claire, it might be a trick of the light. Either way, it disappears when Grace adds, “And that I hope his balls are okay!”
Dad bites his tongue until Elena and Claire are in the car and headed down the long drive, and then he lets loose. “What in the hell are you up to, Son? And who the hell are you?” He scowls at Luna, and I step between them, pulling her behind me. Her hands land flat on my lower back, letting me know she’s supporting me, not hiding away.
“Not now. Luna and I are leaving. We’ll have this conversation tomorrow, just you and me.” I put as much steel in the statement as possible to try to make him accept it and not press the issue.
No dice.
He scoffs. “We’ll have a talk right now. I like to know who’s sitting at my dining room table.”
Mom places a calming hand on Dad’s arm. “Charles, I think Carter’s right. This might not be the time.” She leans left a little, smiling around me to Luna. “Y’all go on, kids.”
I’m an adult. I’m a skilled businessman. I’m not scared of anything, not even my father. Mostly. None of those things stop me from grabbing Luna’s hand and escaping, at least for tonight.
“Come on!” I shout, and laughingly, she runs with me. She lets out a whooping yell, her heels click-clacking on the drive. It feels wild and reckless, like we’re getting away with something naughty. “Get in,” I tell her, holding the passenger door of her car open and shooing her inside. She sits down messily, her skirt riding up her thigh, and my eyes zero in on the length of flesh. As much as I’d like to touch it again, I shut the door and run around to the driver’s side to make our getaway.
Luna hands me her keys, and with a quick turn of the ignition, we’re off into the night.
Still laughing, she turns to look out the back window, but the seatbelt jerks her back into her seat. “I can’t believe we pulled that off!”
“Me either,” I confess. It’s a temporary reprieve, but the fallout will be mine to bear and Luna doesn’t need to worry about it.
There’s a long moment of easy silence, and when I glance over, she’s staring out the window with a soft smile. “Luna?” I ask, checking her out carefully. “You okay?”
The rush is going to wear off quickly, and I want to catch her before she crashes from doing something so far out of her comfort zone. I can’t imagine what it took for her to walk into my family home with lies on her lips and a false narrative in her heart. That’s not who she is, but she’s stretching herself in major ways . . . all for me. Well, mostly for me . . . and a peek at some art.
She closes her eyes for a second, and when she opens them again, they’re bright with the glow of the dash lights. “Surprisingly, I’m okay. As long as I don’t have to go to that chitty-chat with your dad. If I can skip that, I’m fine.” She holds her hand out flat, showing me that she’s not shaking, not even a little bit.
I chuckle grimly. “Wish I could skip it too, but that’s not gonna be an option for me.”
“Sorry, not sorry,” she teases.
I don’t ask, I don’t think. I just drive home, taking Luna with me. I park in the garage and turn the car off. Looking at her, I say, “Thank you for tonight, but I’m not ready for it to be over. You want to come up?”
“Uhm, okay.”
Despite the delay in her answer, she sounds sure, and I’m buzzing from the successful dinner and the feeling of her thigh beneath my palm.
Upstairs in my apartment, I hold my arms out. “Welcome to my humble home.”
It’s different from Luna’s for sure. Where hers is colorful and full of personality, mine is inoffensive and lackluster. Everything is quality and designer-selected, but it doesn’t have the spark Luna’s place has. She looks around politely. “Nice,” she surmises. From anyone else, it’d be a bland compliment. From Luna, it’s totally an insult.
“You hate it,” I guess.
“No!” she gasps. “It’s . . .” She looks around again. “Nice. Like a magazine.”