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“You can buy a little bottle in the store that says ‘Italian Spice.’” When he just stared at me, I added, “I see that you are absorbing this new information.”
“No, I’m just sad.”
I dropped my latest clam onto my plate. “Sad? About Italian Spice?”
He shook his head, and though his face was a mask of disappointment, there was a little glint in those dark blue eyes that both told me he was kidding with me, and sent a little pulse of giddiness through my stomach. “I’m sad that you think that’s a valid spice blend.”
“Fine, what’s your favorite?” I asked him.
“I’m partial to Garam Masala,” he said, and I kicked myself, wishing I’d thought of that one. “But my all-time favorite? Cinnamon sugar.” He smiled as if he’d won some kind of contest.
“That’s not a blend. That’s just two spices that you’re naming.”
“And they are delicious together. Which makes them a blend.”
“Not.”
“I bet Lottie would agree with me.” He raised his eyebrows and gave me a smug smile before taking another sip of the Half Cat Whiskey he’d ordered.
“Do not bring my mother into this.” I took a sip of my beer and sat back into my chair. Despite the company and the weird train of conversation, I found myself relaxing in his company, enjoying it even.
“But you and your mom are close, right?”
“Like she’d give me any other choice.”
He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at me, and I had the oddest sensation as he did it. Michael Tucker was listening to me. Really listening. A warm wave of emotion passed over me. I liked it.
“Tell me about it,” he said. “About life with your mom and sisters.”
I considered giving him a flip response, turning off this line of questioning before it could really get rolling. But hadn’t I spent the last many years wishing Luke would really listen to me? Not that I was comparing Michael and Luke, not at all. Luke was my boyfriend—my lover. And Michael was...so handsome as he sat and waited patiently for me to respond. His squared jaw was stubbled with fine golden hairs and his forearm, where it rested on the tabletop next to his glass, was tanned and muscular. He didn’t have the same fine hands that Luke had—a musician’s hands—but Michael’s looked strong and capable. My mind began to picture those hands at work, and maybe in the shower. Without meaning to, I imagined what that big firm hand might look like wrapped around my breast, or his cock—
I nearly spit out the sip of beer I’d just taken as I realized where my mind had gone. I felt heat rise in my cheeks, and still, Michael just watched me with those penetrating eyes.
“Life with Lottie,” I started, trying to cover the very inappropriate thoughts I’d been having with zero provocation at all. “Well, I’m the oldest,” I said. “So that means all the parenting practice happened on me. When I was little and my dad was still around, things were good. They were strict, but it was good, I think. But after Dad died, and Mom was so sad for such a long time. And by then, we had Paige and Amberlynn, and it was almost like I had to be the parent. She checked out.” Lottie would kill me for sharing so much with anyone, especially a Tucker. But there was something so understanding in Michael’s gaze, I didn’t think he’d judge us.
“That must have been hard,” Michael said quietly. “How old were you?”
“I was ten.” I took a sip of my beer, remembering how I’d felt all those years ago, like if I slipped up or screwed up, there was a chance Mom would just leave. She was already so distant in her sadness, sometimes I wondered if she even knew how much I’d been doing to try to help.
“How long was your mom depressed?”
I sighed. It had taken me so many years to realize that Mom had been depressed. “A long time,” I said. “As a kid though, I didn’t understand that’s what it was.”
“Of course not.”
“I just thought that maybe without Dad around, Mom wasn’t interested in being a parent anymore.” A shadow of the fear and sadness I had felt as a little girl awoke inside me and I tried to press it down. I had purposely put those feelings away. It was odd that I was talking to Michael about something I’d never even mentioned to Luke.
“Well, it wasn’t what she signed up for, right? Raising three girls alone?”
“It wasn’t what any of us signed up for.” A wave of sadness threatened to wash through me, and I ignored it, pasted on a smile.
“And so what about you?” He asked.
I shook my head in confusion. “What?”
“You. You became this super successful career woman. So, no kids for you?”
“You might have missed the part of my super successful career where I had something close to a breakdown and ended up sitting in a shack eating clams out of a bucket.”
