“Do you mind? It’s my mother. She won’t stop texting until I answer her.”
Lou gave a single stiff nod. Again, she retreated, arms folding closed, while Kip pulled the smartphone from his back pocket. Of course he would be interrupted by his mother on what was, he hoped, becoming a second date. Unimpressive to say the least.
Kipling.
He scowled at the screen. Yes.
Are you still in SUA?
Yes.
Why?
He gave a grunt of frustration. What do you need?
Answer the question.
NOYB. WDYN?
The ellipses which implied a response was forthcoming pulsed for several seconds. Odd. While his mother despised acronyms, even in texts, she knew their various meanings. They never slowed her replies – just escalated her fury. He envisioned the steam erupting from her ears at his abbreviated reply.
The ellipses disappeared from the screen. Doubly odd. His mother owned full stock in having the last word.
Apologizing again, Kip tucked the phone away. “So rude of me,” he said. “But my mother is…well, to say she’s a force of nature is a gross understatement.”
“Do you love her?” Lou asked.
Wholly unprepared for the question, Kip hesitated. “Yes, I do. Most days I don’t like her very much, but I love her.”
“Do you do what she tells you?”
He laughed. “Almost never. In fact I define myself by defying her. She and my brother are so like-minded. I’m my father’s son. He would have been pleased with that, I think, if he’d lived long enough to see me grown up.”
“He died when you were little?”
“When I was six. Ben was ten. He handled it better than I did.” Clearing his throat, Kip sat up straighter in his chair. “This has taken a rather grim turn, hasn’t it? Or are you searching for a reason to hate me? My family is a tempting one. Won’t you tell me about yours?”
Lou shook her head. “I can’t.”
Kip clamped his jaw to keep from asking why not. “Remind me,” he said lightly. “How many more dates before details?”
She smiled at the sky. “This isn’t a date.”
“Wouldn’t be hard to change that. I could nip out and buy you some flowers. Or we could dance. Would that count? You could help me recall whatever it was you taught me last night.”
“The Cajun Traveling Waltz,” Lou reminded him.
Kip reached a hand across the table. “Should we try it?”
As she stared, Kip held his breath. He hadn’t sat down intending to seduce Lou into anything more than a chat, but her eyes and her smile and her smoky voice sent him into a frenzy. He needed to figure out why – if only to learn how to resist. All addictions had their positive opposites.
When she slid her hand into his, Kip surrendered. Lou wasn’t some passing fancy. Or a risky temptation. She was all too real yet distinctly magical, and although he could be impulsive, Kip knew this wasn’t a mistake. He wondered if the realization showed on his face.
If only Lou didn’t hate him.
Chapter Seven
I f only she didn’t have to pretend.
Lou felt more lightheaded than after her last glass of champagne the night before. Her skin seemed to hum where it touched Kip’s. His thumb drifted back and forth against her fingers. Kip looked as mystified – and enticed – as Lou felt.
A hand and a glove.
The café’s side door opened. “Tea time!”
Rescuing her fingers, Lou thanked the good Lord. Moggie’s timing could not have been better. A few more seconds of that, and she might end up telling the whole truth to a man she’d known for less than twenty-four hours.
As Moggie set down a crowded wooden tray, Lou shot her a withering look. Their pot of tea had become a miniature feast.
Moggie pulled out all the stops. A stack of fresh scones. Clotted cream. Two flavors of jam including Beryl’s famous whiskey marmalade. A tea cosy decorated with Anne Hathaway’s cottage covered a pot large enough to
Lou gave a single stiff nod. Again, she retreated, arms folding closed, while Kip pulled the smartphone from his back pocket. Of course he would be interrupted by his mother on what was, he hoped, becoming a second date. Unimpressive to say the least.
Kipling.
He scowled at the screen. Yes.
Are you still in SUA?
Yes.
Why?
He gave a grunt of frustration. What do you need?
Answer the question.
NOYB. WDYN?
The ellipses which implied a response was forthcoming pulsed for several seconds. Odd. While his mother despised acronyms, even in texts, she knew their various meanings. They never slowed her replies – just escalated her fury. He envisioned the steam erupting from her ears at his abbreviated reply.
The ellipses disappeared from the screen. Doubly odd. His mother owned full stock in having the last word.
Apologizing again, Kip tucked the phone away. “So rude of me,” he said. “But my mother is…well, to say she’s a force of nature is a gross understatement.”
“Do you love her?” Lou asked.
Wholly unprepared for the question, Kip hesitated. “Yes, I do. Most days I don’t like her very much, but I love her.”
“Do you do what she tells you?”
He laughed. “Almost never. In fact I define myself by defying her. She and my brother are so like-minded. I’m my father’s son. He would have been pleased with that, I think, if he’d lived long enough to see me grown up.”
“He died when you were little?”
“When I was six. Ben was ten. He handled it better than I did.” Clearing his throat, Kip sat up straighter in his chair. “This has taken a rather grim turn, hasn’t it? Or are you searching for a reason to hate me? My family is a tempting one. Won’t you tell me about yours?”
Lou shook her head. “I can’t.”
Kip clamped his jaw to keep from asking why not. “Remind me,” he said lightly. “How many more dates before details?”
She smiled at the sky. “This isn’t a date.”
“Wouldn’t be hard to change that. I could nip out and buy you some flowers. Or we could dance. Would that count? You could help me recall whatever it was you taught me last night.”
“The Cajun Traveling Waltz,” Lou reminded him.
Kip reached a hand across the table. “Should we try it?”
As she stared, Kip held his breath. He hadn’t sat down intending to seduce Lou into anything more than a chat, but her eyes and her smile and her smoky voice sent him into a frenzy. He needed to figure out why – if only to learn how to resist. All addictions had their positive opposites.
When she slid her hand into his, Kip surrendered. Lou wasn’t some passing fancy. Or a risky temptation. She was all too real yet distinctly magical, and although he could be impulsive, Kip knew this wasn’t a mistake. He wondered if the realization showed on his face.
If only Lou didn’t hate him.
Chapter Seven
I f only she didn’t have to pretend.
Lou felt more lightheaded than after her last glass of champagne the night before. Her skin seemed to hum where it touched Kip’s. His thumb drifted back and forth against her fingers. Kip looked as mystified – and enticed – as Lou felt.
A hand and a glove.
The café’s side door opened. “Tea time!”
Rescuing her fingers, Lou thanked the good Lord. Moggie’s timing could not have been better. A few more seconds of that, and she might end up telling the whole truth to a man she’d known for less than twenty-four hours.
As Moggie set down a crowded wooden tray, Lou shot her a withering look. Their pot of tea had become a miniature feast.
Moggie pulled out all the stops. A stack of fresh scones. Clotted cream. Two flavors of jam including Beryl’s famous whiskey marmalade. A tea cosy decorated with Anne Hathaway’s cottage covered a pot large enough to
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