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The doorbell rang. Perhaps a neighbor had an emergency and needed help. The possibilities teased her mind as Dina rushed to open the door, fixing her hair on the way as if the Pope was coming for dinner.
“Vincent. I’m so glad you got my voicemail. Join us,” Dina said.
Natalie straightened her shoulders. Until then, she had slumped on the sofa next to Josh, but the very real form of Vincent walking into the living room set her body on full alert. Her heart raced like those childhood days when she had to make it to the school bus stop so she wouldn’t be late.
She heard Vincent’s low, deep drawl and it sent a rumble though her body. Over the past few days, they’d stayed out of each other’s way. But tonight they’d have to at least engage in small talk so no one noticed any bad blood between them.
“… And the young man talking to our sweet Natalie is Josh Anthony. Perhaps you haven’t met him yet. He’s great with fixing cars,” Dina said to Vincent, then pointed at Natalie and Josh.
Josh rose from the sofa and stretched out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Vincent glanced at Josh’s hand for a lingering moment before accepting the handshake.
Vincent’s gaze focused on her while Josh and Dina chattered. She swallowed. His eyes quietly reprimanded her, a dark gleam coating his irises. His facial expression sobered, and a thrill moved through her. He’s… jealous?
Maybe Vincent didn’t know it yet… but he wanted her almost as much as she wanted him. And she’d be damned if she’d let the opportunity slip through her fingers.
* * *
“Aren’t they sweet together?”Dina whispered after dinner.
What a fool he’d been. His ex-wife insisted he attend dinner, and if the last years of their marriage had been sour and bitter, her cooking had never lost its freshness. He’d decided a change of scenery was the perfect answer to his current problem—a constant boner with Natalie’s name on it.
“No,” he said curtly.
Natalie and that boy still sat at the dining table, and she chuckled at something he said. Vincent had had enough of that bullshit; he stood and went to the living room, thinking of a good excuse to either leave the place or clock the young bastard. Jay or Jacob or whatever the hell his name was, flushed as he kept talking. Fuck. He wasn’t man enough to handle a woman like Natalie. Hell, he isn’t even boy enough. He’s a freaking fetus.
Dina patted his back. “I know what you’re thinking.”
His stomach roiled. Shit. Sweat broke on his forehead. He’d hoped Natalie wouldn’t mention anything to Dina about their make-out session back at Sally’s Motel. “You do?”
With a nod, she gestured for him to sit down but he remained standing. “You’re protective. She was married to our son, but life is for the living. Natalie has the right to be happy.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Damn right. Do you know this kid?” he asked, pretending to care about who his sexy daughter-in-law dated. If he had an ounce of character, he’d wish her the best instead of plotting ways to murder her date. Hell. If he had an ounce of character, he’d keep in mind the same lame-ass excuse he’d given her: the two of them would never work. Period.
“He’s hardworking, nice and even goes to the same church I go to. Best of all, he has a crush on her. Can’t you tell?” Dina said.
Her words didn’t soothe him any. As Dina continued to rave about Josh, Vincent watched Natalie. Why had she put on such a flimsy dress? The yellow flowery pattern didn’t hide her taut nipples. Did that gawky boy turn her on? Blood thrummed in his veins. Coming to this dinner had done nothing to get her out of his mind.
Quite the opposite. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Are you okay?” Dina pulled him back to reality.
He sucked in a breath. “Yup. Tired, that’s all.”
“I can imagine.” She flashed him a smile. “Thanks for coming back and helping Natalie out. I’m sure our Clint appreciates you keeping an eye out for his wife from wherever he may be,” she said, her voice wavering at the end.
“Does he?” The two words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them.
Dina’s eyebrows furrowed, her face tightening. “What on God’s green earth do you mean?”
He cleared his throat. Bringing up their differences regarding their parenting styles wasn’t the smartest idea—neither was mentioning Clint’s own wife probably had an alphabetical list of complaints. Guilt wrapped around his chest like a rope. He looked into Dina’s kind eyes, and exhaled. He’d break her heart if he said anything negative about their son.
Not that he had the right—he’d fled. He abandoned them, and maybe if he had stuck it out his son wouldn’t have turned into a brawl-seeking, raging alcoholic. “I don’t mean anything. I, like you, believe there’s a better place for us to go to once we kick the bucket,” he said, hoping his after-life comment steered them away from the uncomfortable topic.
Her shoulders sagged, and her face softened again. “I figure after losing my son, there’s really nothing worse that can happen to me. Positivity is my strategy to keep living.”
He squeezed her shoulder. Maybe they could be friends after all. “You’ve always been the smart one.”
