“Well, of course, he is. He’s a Sinclair. Your father is the same way and you would be too, if… That doesn’t matter and you’re trying to distract me from the point of the call.”
“Worth a try.” She chuckled. “Really, Mom. I’m not sixteen and need you to approve of a guy before I go out with him anymore. Besides, Dylan already gave us his blessing to see each other.”
“Did he now?”
Fiona smiled at Dante. “Yes, he did and Dante promised not to make me cry.”
Her mom was quiet for a moment. “Did he now?”
Dante raised his eyebrows and pulled her in close to his body.
“He did. He’s nice, funny, and a fabulous cook.”
“And how is he with Dylan?” The question didn’t surprise Fee. Her parents were protective, not just of their children, but of everyone they loved and especially their grandchildren.
“The same, Mom.”
“Good. Bring him to dinner. This weekend?” she suggested.
“Can’t. Dylan is with Sal and I have to work, both here at the gym and at the studio. I’ll check and maybe we can make it the following weekend, if you promise to make Dad put the shovels away and be nice.”
Her mom laughed, made no promises and hung up.
Fee hung up and tossed the phone on top of her sweatshirt, before turning back to Dante. “Your presence has been requested by the queen for the royal inspection.”
“Sounds like I should be more afraid of the king. Shovels?” His hands slipped down her backside to cup her butt. It was the man’s favorite resting place.
“Oh, no, don’t let her sweetness fool you. The shovels are hers. And the yard is large with very healthy roses.” She nipped him on the chin. “A high school boyfriend once commented on them. Something about his mom would love to know her secret. She simply smiled like an innocent lamb and eyed him up and down like she was measuring how big of a hole she’d have to dig. We never did have that second date.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I don’t think anyone ever saw him again. Hmm.”
He threw his head back and laughed, deep and hard. “I think I’m going to love your mother. Tell me about the rest.”
“Dad? He’s the quiet type, but doesn’t miss much. Justin’s easygoing, but lately has been strung tighter than a guitar string. The twins? Typical teenagers: moody and sarcastic.”
“Sounds a lot like my family.”
“Just not as many. Are you up to a family inspection? If not… I mean, it’s still kind of early in our relationship—”
“Hey, you already met my family.”
“Yeah, about that. Let’s not mention to my parents when I met your family. Mom might get her feelings hurt.”
“No worries, babe. I’d love to meet them.”
Famous last words.
* * * *
“What the hell was that today?” Skip got in his face, hands on his hips, eyes flaming like the pit of Tartarus.
“Grammar class.” Dante leaned back in his chair, fingers linked behind his head.
“Could have fooled me. Looked more like my second-grade school play. Singing? What the hell, Torres? This is a U.S. Naval institution, not elementary school.”
“Yeah? What’s the function of a conjunction?” Dante asked.
“Hooking up words and phrases and…” Skip stopped dead in the middle of his sentence.
Dante smirked. Jake laughed. The other guys kept their heads down, but Dante could see the grins.
“Tell me it doesn’t work.”
“Not the point. When you are up in front of that class, you will conduct yourself as a Naval officer. Not some preschool teacher. Marco is taking the grammar class from now on.”
“Fine with me.” Dante shrugged and tried to contain his disappointment.
“Skip, the class scored higher on today’s test than any other class,” Jake said.
“I don’t care. I’m in charge and we do things a certain way.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t change things up and try to find better methods.” Jake put his hands up. “All I’m saying, is if it worked we should think about it. If Marco is going to teach grammar, then Dante should take on the Ethics lecture.”
Skip’s head reared back. “Have you lost your mind? Torres can stick with etiquette and uniforms. At least, he gets that right.”
“Marco’s plate is already too full with his collateral duties and we’re still short a man.”
“Fine. Chin can take Ethics.”
“Nope. CO’s got him working on that special project. And don’t look at me. I’m retired on active duty.”
Dante kept quiet during the ping-pong conversation. He was fine with the one class; it meant he could fill his time at the pool lifeguarding or at the gym getting a grip on his stress. But he’d grown to enjoy teaching, connecting with the students and seeing them morph into officers ready to lead. He wasn’t crazy about teaching grammar, and etiquette wasn’t his jam, but Ethics was his jelly. However, if Skip knew he wanted to teach the class, he’d never give it to him. For several long moments, neither Skip nor Jake backed down. Finally, Skip swore under his breath and walked away.
“Don’t fuck this one up, Torres or you’ll be in front of the Captain.”
He waited until Skip was out of earshot before turning to Jake. “What’s up with him?”
“Can’t you tell?”
Granted Skip was always a tightass, but more so the last couple of days.
“If I knew, I wouldn’t ask.” Not that he cared all that much. They were co-workers, not buddies. And not that he planned to change his style either. If Skippy didn’t like it, he could get over it or ignore him. Preferably the second option.
“He likes Fiona,” Jake said.
“Sure. Who doesn’t?” Dante replied.
“You’re being dense. Open your eyes,” Jake said.
“Ah. Did they—”
One of the other guys chuckled and muttered, “In his dreams.”
Jake ignored the comment. “No. She’s never shown any interest in any of the staff or students beyond a professional level. I’m surprised she has with you. I just haven’t figured out if it’s because of your other sessions with her or something more.” Jake quirked his brow and waited.
Nice. Always good to know your co-workers found you lacking. At least, Skip had been blatant about his disapproval from the start.
Jake must have sensed he’d hit a soft spot, as he held up his hands in the surrender position.
“Chill, man. Nothing personal. I know her ex. He’s a real piece of work. We worked together a couple of years back and he didn’t make her life easy then. Doubt if he does now either. If I were a woman and married to Rossi, I’d be off of men for life.”
Thank all that was holy Fiona was made of sterner stuff. And yeah, Rossi seemed to relish making Fiona’s life harder or else the guy was clueless as fuck. He hadn’t spent a lot of time in Rossi’s company, and he had no plans to in the future either, but the overall sense he’d gotten of the man was that of a bully. He’d keep those thoughts to himself though. Bases were small, gossip flew like the wind and he didn’t need word getting back.
“I’ve had the displeasure of meeting the man.”
“Then you can understand our surprise… and concern.” Jake wasn’t a heck of lot older than him, but suddenly Dante flashed back to his teen self.
“Are you asking me my intentions, Pops?” His voice flared with anger and he didn’t care. It was one thing to be asked by a ten-year-old kid concerned about his mom or even her parents. He didn’t have to answer. But Jake had stood up for him to Skip.
“We’re…” As he formed the words, he found he didn’t want to share, didn’t want to hear their advice or threats. Nor did he want to be the center of office gossip. �
�We’re getting to know each other.”
Jake nodded, picked up his book, and glanced back at him. “Fair enough. She could do a lot worse. You? Doubt you could do much better.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, Pops.”
Chapter 14
Saturday morning Dante stretched out on the couch while Sinclair sat on his chest, purring in his face. For such a tiny thing, she had a damn loud motor in her. The cat’s eyes were closed, the rumble moving through her little body to tickle his chest. It soothed, mesmerized and he found his eyes drifting shut. There was something he was supposed to do, but he couldn’t remember what. Whatever it was sat just out of his reach, just beyond the fog in his brain, a faint outline he couldn’t make out.
“Must not be important,” he told the cat.
She purred louder in response. Or maybe that was a warning that he better not think of moving. Her claws pierced his skin. “Hey, we talked about this.” Dante plucked each nail out of his chest.
Sinclair hissed and batted his hand away.
“Boundaries, cat. Respect them.”
Damn, what was I supposed to be doing today? He hated this crap. This brain fog that hit out of nowhere, it stole moments of his life and left him feeling like an idiot. Whatever it was, it didn’t have to do with work. Dylan? No, this was his weekend with his dad. He’d give it a moment and once he stopped worrying it would come to him.
He sat up slowly at the knock on his door, holding on to Sinclair.
He opened the door to find Fiona and Dylan. “That’s right, we had a swim lesson scheduled for today. I knew I was forgetting something.” He stepped back to let them enter, glancing quickly around to make sure the place was presentable.
“Cool. A cat.” Dylan reached out to scratch Sinclair’s ears and Dante handed him the cat.
“No swim lesson. We were supposed to go to my parents’ today.”
“Right.” He looked around. “Give me five minutes.”
“Are you okay?” She reached out for his hand.
“Yeah. Didn’t sleep much last night. Just let me jump in the shower to chase the cobwebs away and we can go.” Crap. Why couldn’t he have forgotten something insignificant? Now she probably thought he didn’t want to meet her family.
Fiona sat on the couch next to Dylan, who was playing with the cat using and old shoelace he’d left out on the coffee table. Dante left and a few minutes later rejoined them, showered, dressed, and ready to go as promised. Never let it be said he didn’t learn skills in the navy that would benefit him in the real world.
The three of them climbed into Fiona’s little red VW bug, with Dante practically folding his legs up to fit, and headed to Connecticut. Dylan chatted the whole way. Today’s topic was superheroes, which was the best, who could beat whom, which power was the coolest. Fiona drove in silence with the occasional answer when directed her way. She smiled when he looked at her, but for the most part she kept her expression neutral, which piqued his interest.
Was she worried about introducing him to her family? What had Sal told her mom? He knew from Dylan that the man didn’t like him. Had he conveyed his feelings to Fiona’s mom? Normally he wouldn’t think twice if someone would like him or not. He wasn’t a complete ass, after all. But she mattered. Fiona mattered. As did Dylan.
Over the last few weeks that he’d spent around the kid, he’d gotten attached. Dylan was a great kid. Funny. Inquisitive. Intelligent. Fiercely protective of his mom and at times battled between being a kid and growing up too fast.
“Dante, you said I’m a good swimmer. Right?” Dylan had been quiet for the last few minutes and he’d thought the kid had fallen asleep. Used to happen to him all the time on long car rides.
“Yep, that’s right. You keep it up and maybe before the end of summer, we can try paddle boarding.”
“Wicked.” He lapsed back into silent mode for a few minutes more. “Do you think I’m fast?”
Fiona looked at Dante from the corner of her eye. Yeah, he picked up the hope in Dylan’s voice, too.
“Yeah, you’re pretty fast. Why? You thinking about challenging me to a race? If so, you’re on and I say loser should have to… Hmm, what would I want? Yeah, that’s it. Whoever loses has to buy the other a milkshake at the Newport Creamery. What do you say, Dylan, you feeling brave?”
Dylan snorted in response. “Sure, but Mom will have to pay. But that’s not why I asked. I was asking because they announced that we’re going to have an end-of-summer swim race.”
Dante twisted around in his seat. “Hey, that’s great. You going to enter?”
The kid hung his head low and wouldn’t look at him. Dante turned to Fiona, but she just shrugged.
“I think you should.”
“Yeah, but if I lose Chris will just tease me more.”
“Chris?” Fiona asked. “The one you slugged?”
Whoa. Now that caught his attention because he couldn’t see a kid like Dylan lashing out physically, but he understood. Had met his fair share of guys like “Chris” growing up and sadly, in the military.
“Sounds like we need to step up the training, kiddo. Give you a little Rocky Balboa, Eye of the Tiger mojo.”
“Who?”
Fiona laughed. “I think you just dated yourself.”
“In all fairness, that movie was a little before my time too, but my dad liked it.” He turned back to Dylan. “You want to win?”
Dylan smiled and nodded.
“Okay, then starting tomorrow, we’re in the pool every day. It’s going to be tough, grueling work. Laps, lots of laps. Push-ups. Running. You think you can do it, Ace?”
Dylan laughed at him, but he was still smiling. “You sound like my mom.”
“I learned from the best, kiddo.”
After, Dylan went back to his book and he and Fiona slipped into a comfortable silence.
“Almost there,” Fiona piped up, her voice holding a hint of false excitement. “We don’t have to stay long, if you’re too tired or just want to leave.”
“No worries. I’m fine. It’s going to be a great day. Right, Dylan?”
“Yep. Grandma makes the best cookies. You’re going to love them. Hey, Uncle Justin is here. I hope the twins brought their new video game.” Dylan’s excitement was real and had him bouncing on the back seat as they pulled into the driveway.
“Dylan, it’s nice out today. I don’t want you spending all your time inside in front of the TV. Maybe you boys can break out the football or take a hike in the woods behind the house?”
Fiona gave him one last look, either of encouragement or sympathy, he wasn’t sure. He squeezed her hand and then untwisted his body to practically fall out of the tin can she called a car. Next time he’d insist they’d take his SUV.
They entered through the front door of the split-level ranch and headed up the stairs. The first thing that hit was the aroma of apples and cinnamon baking, which had his stomach rumbling in appreciation. When they reached the top of the stairs he took in the place and one word hit: home.
The place wasn’t spotless. Shoes were tossed in one corner, a blanket had been tossed over the end of the couch, a few books and magazines were scattered on an end table along with a pair of glasses. Picture frames of various faces and ages filled the mantel and shelves. A recliner took up residence in one corner and an overstuffed couch and loveseat ran along the wall and railing. The place called out and invited a person to kickback, take a nap, catch a game, relax. It was home.
“There you are,” an older version of Fiona’s voice called out from around a corner.
He followed Fiona and Dylan into the kitchen to where her mom waited.
“Grandma, did you make cookies? I told Dante you’re the best, so he has to try them.” Dylan gave her a hug and looked up with hope in his eyes. Sly kid. Dante knew Dylan wasn’t just asking for Dante’s sak
e.
“Of course, because I knew my cookie monster would be here today. But,” she held up a finger, “you have to wait until after lunch for dessert. Everyone else is outside. Why don’t you take these rolls on out for me and let your grandpa know he can put the burgers and hot dogs on the grill?”
Dylan ran off and Fiona made the introductions.
“Mrs. Sinclair, it’s a pleasure.”
She looked him over, then smiled. “Please, call me Elaine.”
One hurdle down. Maybe Rossi had kept his thoughts to himself?
“Is there anything I can do to help?” The counters were empty with the exception of a fresh baked apple pie.
“That was the last thing to go outside. Food should be ready in a couple of minutes. I hope you’re all hungry. Until then, grab a drink and go say hi to everyone.”
He thanked her, then followed Fiona outside where he met her brother, sister-in-law, and father. Dylan had disappeared and he didn’t see any other kids. Mr. Sinclair—Mitch as he was instructed to call him—pumped his hand, handed him a beer and told him to grab the burgers from the table. Fiona wandered over to an empty chair next to her brother to talk, but he could feel her eyes on him.
Mitch ran him through the usual questions: where was he from, what did he do, how long had he known Fiona. He skipped the “what are your intentions” question, probably saving it for after they ate. Dante learned that both father and son worked for EB—Electric Boat—building submarines. He also learned he was the first guy Fiona had brought home since her divorce.
“Dad, are those burgers ready yet?” Fiona asked. “I’m starving.”
Dante laughed. Fiona was always starving. The woman must burn more calories in a week than most people did in a month with her work schedule.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t rush the cook. But yeah, they’re ready,” Mitch said.
Everyone was called to the table and as plates were loaded and people settled down, their attention turned to him. He answered the same questions Mitch had asked and more. The twins—who looked like mirror images—perked up at the mention of his job. Then came more of the usual questions: did he work with SEALs, had he shot any insurgents, had he been shot, did he blow things up? The answers were: yes, no, no, and sometimes, but he lied about a few of those things.
Disarmed by Love Page 18
