Somewhere along the line I got mesmerized by his dark brown eyes.
“Of course I’m worth it,” I whispered.
Damn it all! I was losing control and beginning to flirt.
I tipped my head back and licked my lips, my tongue touching his lips as I did so.
“Jesus,” Lee muttered.
The door buzzer went.
He ignored it, his hand at my face moved back to tangle in my hair, his other arm tightened further at my waist.
I went up on tiptoe to get closer.
The door buzzer went again, this time, whoever was pushing it didn’t let up.
“Maybe it’s Rosie,” I said.
“Shit,” Lee let me go and walked to the door.
Two minutes later, the entirety of both our families walked through the door.
“We’ve decided we’re going to have a celebratory dinner,” Kitty Sue announced as she came in.
“You decided, the rest of us were all just hungry,” Malcolm said, starting to smile at me then the smile froze on his face.
Indeed, everyone stopped dead when they saw me.
“What happened to you?” Dad shouted.
Hmm. I hadn’t seen my face but clearly it looked as bad as it felt.
Malcolm Nightingale’s sons looked like him, even now that he was getting older, he looked fit and lean and his face was still handsome and interesting. He kept in shape by running, a lot, sometimes traveling around the country to do marathons.
Tom Savage was tall, with a still-handsome face, sky blue eyes and most of the time, he could be very charming. He had salt and pepper hair and had been built like a defensive lineman when he was young. Over the years, that had given way to just a bit of a pot-belly fueled by beer and his obsession for Mexican food.
He turned to Lee. “You hit her?”
I took in a sharp breath at this insulting question and so did everyone else.
Lee stared at Dad for a beat and then I watched as his face closed down. He leaned his hips against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms on his chest and didn’t deign to answer.
Dad loved Lee, Dad thought about Hank, Lee and Ally like Malcolm and Kitty Sue thought about me. I knew Dad even admired Lee.
But Dad was a cop and he knew things about Lee and his past that I didn’t know, things of which he didn’t approve. Things that made Lee being involved with his daughter not a happy circumstance to celebrate.
Regardless, I had the weird and irrational desire to kick Dad in the shin.
“No, he didn’t hit me. Jeez, Dad,” I said.
“Of course he didn’t hit her, Tommy. How could you think such a thing? What happened?” Kitty Sue, ever the diplomat, brushed off Dad’s idiotic remark and came toward me.
I looked at Ally who had dropped another bag on the floor. This one was not an overnighter. This one was bigger, stuffed full, undoubtedly packed with enough of my clothes to get me through a week of staying at Lee’s, by the end of which I would likely be pregnant or Lee’s love slave, or both.
If I wasn’t so worried about her and didn’t love her with every fiber of my being, I would have strangled her.
“You okay?” I asked.
Ally nodded.
Kitty Sue stopped and looked between the pair of us. “Oh no, what are you two up to?”
I answered quickly, “Nothing. As for my cheek, Dad, I got hit in the face with some books falling off a shelf. Lee came over and got me so he could take a look at it and put ice on it.” I walked to the sink and showed Dad the ice bag, then, for some reason, I leaned my shoulder into Lee.
Don’t ask me why I did this. I just didn’t like the way my Dad spoke to him and I didn’t like to see Lee’s face close down like that.
“You have ice at Fortnum’s,” Dad said.
Oopsie.
This was true.
“Lee’s ice is better,” I replied.
Lame. I was losing my touch.
“I bet Lee’s ice is better,” Ally muttered and both Kitty Sue and I gave her a killing look.
Hank and Lee were exchanging glances. Hank sighed and rocked back on his heels. Lee uncrossed his arms and draped one around my shoulders. I didn’t even try to decipher what the Lee/Hank glance was all about, it had been a scary enough day.
And anyway, all I could think was that their coming over meant I was off the hook with the Lee Nap. It had been getting pretty flirty there and I needed to restore control.
“Where are we going to dinner?” I asked happily and Lee’s eyes slid sideways and his look made a definite promise of “later”, shattering any illusions of my being off the hook.
“Sushi Den,” Ally answered.
At those two words, Ally and I both immediately threw up our hands, index finger and pinkie extended in the famous, devil’s horns, “Rock On!” gesture and squealed, “Sushi!”
“We’re not having sushi,” Malcolm declared.
“We decided this. We’re having sushi,” Kitty Sue said.
“Sushi’s shit,” Malcolm stated.
“Sushi’s good for you,” Kitty Sue returned.
“Mexican is good for you,” Dad said.
Kitty Sue rolled her eyes.
I went to the bag excitedly.
I loved sushi, but I loved Sushi Den even more. It was one of my favorite restaurants in Denver. It was on Pearl Street, next to Pearl Street Grill and across from Stella’s Coffee Haus.
Sushi Den was made out of cement and glass, they had hostesses filled with attitude who, with a look, could make lesser mortals feel small and even suicidal and they had the best sushi I’d ever tasted. They never took reservations because they were always wall-to-wall people. Ally and I went to Sushi Den at least twice a month and had an ongoing battle to out-attitude the hostesses (with hostesses winning).
“Did you bring me a Sushi Den outfit?” I asked Ally.
You didn’t go to Sushi Den in jeans and cowboy boots. Sushi Den demanded something else entirely. Clothing… black. Shoes… stiletto. I had a full section of my closet devoted to Sushi Den clothes.
“You bet your ass,” Ally replied.
I woke up in Lee’s bed again and my first thought was sake.
I didn’t even like sake but I drank it with Ally at Sushi Den because that’s what you had to do.
When in Rome, do as the Romans do.
When at Sushi Den, drink hot sake.
I was on my belly, left leg crooked, right one straight, left arm bent with my hand resting on the pillow, right arm crushed between me and what I knew had to be the weight of Lee’s warm, hard body.
In one night, Lee had perfected a strategy of keeping me in one place while I was sleeping. He was pressed against my back, a good deal of his body resting on mine, his arm around me, his left leg bent into the crook of mine and his thigh pressed against my nether regions. This was surprisingly not uncomfortable, it was cozy and warm and made me feel, somehow, safe.
Fucking hell, how did I get myself into these situations?
I thought back to our sake-soaked, family “celebration” dinner and was thankful to discover that I remembered everything.
Eat, drink sake, eat more, drink more sake, get drunk.
Let Lee put me in his Crossfire while I blew kisses to Ally, Hank, Dad, Kitty Sue, Malcolm and the parking valet
Come back to Lee’s condo, stagger into his bedroom, take off clothes, confiscate another wife beater, fall face first in Lee’s big bed because of drunkenness and lack of Disco Nap, and fall asleep.
With my left hand, I checked the status of my clothing.
Panties, check.
Wife beater t-shirt, check.
Either Lee didn’t ravish my drunken self or he dressed me when he was done. I figured it was the former.
My left cheekbone felt tight and there was a dull ache that, without sake working its way through my system, I could now actually feel.