“Okay.”
She took a step toward the door and hesitated. “About… Um…”
“What?”
“Carson, even mothers like to…well, have friends. Grown-up friends.”
“You have friends.”
“Mothers who aren’t married also go out with men. Sometimes. Like dating.”
His teeth made a funny grinding noise. “Yeah. So?”
“So, I know you like Holt. He’s…well, we’re seeing each other. He asked me to go out with him on New Year’s Eve.”
Shit-buckets. Carson scowled. They’d always spent New Year’s Eve together and now Holt was ruining it. Ruining everything. “Uh-huh.”
“Carson?”
Carson looked down at Poe. The cat’s tail twitched. Up. Down. “Poe needs his food. I need to get him set up.”
After a second, she sighed. “I hear you, honey. All right.”
Chapter Twenty
Following the hostess, Holt put his hand on Josie’s lower back and guided her past the noisy, packed bar and into the restaurant section where only the clink of silverware and low hum of conversation broke the quiet. An upscale restaurant, Georgina’s had become increasingly popular, and on New Year’s Eve, there was a line out the door and a long, long waiting list. He was damn lucky Georgina had fit them in. Whatever he’d owe Clancy in favors would be worth it.
Holt smiled at the lovely woman at his side. Being a guy, he did adore having Josie completely naked, but he had to say, she was pretty damn gorgeous when she got dressed up. He’d almost swallowed his tongue when she’d opened the door tonight. Her deep green dress set off her beautiful eyes and dark red hair. Cut almost to her waist, the bodice revealed the inside curves of her breasts. Wonderfully snug to mid-thigh, the skirt section had a tantalizing slit in the front.
When he’d made a circle with his finger, and she dutifully twirled for him, he’d seen her entire back was bared except for the tiny straps. Jesus.
Although he’d figured she couldn’t possibly be wearing underwear, he’d managed to wait until he got her outside before checking.
No underwear. He’d been half-erect ever since.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”
Her tiny snort made him grin. “You did. You know, in Texas, we’d say ‘that girl cleans up well’”.
“Baby, you clean up very, very, well.” He kissed her lightly, then held her chair for her.
As he took his seat, the hostess handed them menus, introduced their server, and added, “Ms. Georgina wants you to have a wonderful evening—and says I’m to note your lady’s dislikes. Otherwise, she’s in charge of your meal.”
Josie blinked, and then laughed. “You know the most interesting people, Holt.” After a second’s thought, she told the server, “I hate raw fish in any form. Otherwise, I like everything.”
“Very good, miss.”
The server left. The sommelier appeared, opened a bottle of wine, elicited Holt’s approval, poured their glasses, and disappeared.
Josie was shaking her head. “I’ve never had service like this. Are you some billionaire and didn’t tell me?”
“I do okay but no.” Holt clinked his glass against hers. “Georgina is married to one of my firefighter crew—you’ll meet them all one of these days—and she thinks I should get out more.”
Josie’s lips tipped up. “I take it she doesn’t know about your Friday and Saturday nights at the den of kinky sin.”
“Ah, no.” Holt sipped the wine and smiled at the rich smoky flavor. “She does know Nadia and I aren’t together any longer.”
“Holt, I’m beginning to think the entire city knows about your ex.”
He grinned. “Yeah, well, Nadia isn’t one for keeping anything private.” He reached across the table and squeezed Josie’s hand. “You, however, are a whole different animal.”
But he wasn’t going to push. Not…yet. Instead, he turned to lighter subjects. “Is Carson going to fight with Stella over what to watch tonight?”
Josie relaxed, laughed, and started in on a Carson story.
* * * * *
Sometime later, Josie frowned as Holt poured the last of the wine into her glass. Not that she was complaining, but she had to admit her mind was a bit fuzzy. “You stopped at one, and I’ve had…a lot more.”
“I’m driving,” he said easily, then rose at the approach of a beautiful brunette in a black suit. “Georgina, you outdid yourself with the selection. Please give our compliments to your staff.” He bent down to kiss her cheek.
She beamed at him. “I surely will, sugar.” Turning she smiled at Josie. “I’m Georgina. It’s wonderful to have you both here this evening.” The sincerity in her Southern-accented voice couldn’t be mistaken.
“Will you join us?” Holt asked.
Georgina looked delighted. “If I won’t be intruding, I’d love to sit for a moment.” Before she even turned, an attentive wait staff carried over another chair and seated her.
Josie almost laughed, thinking of the way the submissives hovered around all the Shadowlands Masters. “You have amazing people here.”
“Oh, I do.” Georgina smiled up at the young man. “Thank you, Manuel. Can you bring us a carafe of coffee, please?”
“Right away, ma’am.”
The brunette settled into her chair with a comfortable wiggle and turned to look Holt over. “All recovered? Clancy said you’re back at work.” She added to Josie, “My Clancy works with him at the station.” The wedding ring on her finger said her Clancy was probably a husband.
“I’m back to normal,” Holt agreed.
“Good. Stupid nasty stalker.” Georgina put a hand on Holt’s face and frowned at the long scar. “That’s healing, too. Good.”
He laughed. “You have a soft heart, sweetie. By the way, Clancy told me the restaurant is delivering leftover food to the homeless shelter. Thank you.”
“How could we not help after I saw what they were eating?” She turned to Josie. “The homeless shelter is one of Holt’s pet projects. Everyone at the fire station has been dragged there to help with upgrading the building.”
A homeless shelter? Josie glanced at Holt.
“It’s a good place.” His mouth tightened. “Living on the streets is…Well, sometimes people simply need a hand to get back on their feet.”
Living on the streets. Those months had been the most terrifying, hopeless time of her life. Looking down, Josie swirled the wine in her glass. As she took a big swallow, she realized Holt’s gaze was on her.
A waiter appeared and leaned down to whisper, “Georgina, the chef requests a word.”
“Well, shoot. I didn’t even get to hear how you two met.” With a tiny pout, Georgina rose. “Josie, it was lovely to meet you. Holt, don’t be a stranger.”
Josie watched her sail away. “She’s amazing.”
“Yeah, she is. And under the southern charm is one sharp businesswoman. Clancy adores her.” Holt leaned forward to take Josie’s hand. “Why do I get the impression you were homeless for a while?”
Her mouth went dry. “It was a long time ago.”
He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Guess that means we have something else in common, hmm?”
She stared at him. Not even the thin scar could detract from his gorgeous chiseled features. He wore the tailored black suit with the easy grace of someone who was to the manor born. “You were never homeless.”
A corner of his mouth tipped up. “I’ll share if you will.”
“No.” Talking about that time was something she never did.
He waited, the bastard.
She was dying to know why he’d been living on the streets. Stalling, she took another swallow of wine. No, Josie. His past wasn’t important. She didn’t need to know.
Dammit. “You first.”
He turned her hand over and gave her a formal handshake. “We have a deal.”
Leaning back, he drank his coffee. “My mother
died of a brain tumor. A couple of years later—I was a bit older than Carson—my father was killed in a car accident, leaving a choice of foster care or my aunt. She took me in but her new boyfriend turned out to be a drug dealer. A violent, abusive drug dealer. He decided I’d make the perfect drug runner.”
Josie stared and tried to imagine Carson being used to deliver drugs. “Your aunt let him?”
“She protested, and he beat the crap out of us both.” Holt shook his head. “I’d been pretty sheltered, and the guy scared me to death. Between him and his customers, I got to be really fast on my feet.”
“Oh my God.”
“Unfortunately, he and his buyers noticed how fucking pretty I was.” With a rueful smile, Holt ran a finger down his unscarred cheek. “The bastard tried to pimp me out. That’s when my aunt and I stole his car and ran.”
“Oh, thank God.” Heart thudding hard, Josie took Holt’s hand in both of hers.
He lifted her hands and kissed them. “That reaction there is why I love you,” he said softly.
Oh. To hear him say that… Her voice came out husky. “Were you all right once you got away?”
“We lived in shelters until she found a job doing janitorial work. Tough work. But not long after that, my mom’s agent saw me and—”
“Agent?” Josie interrupted.
“Mom was a model until she got sick. Her agent had adored her and hated what’d happened to me. So he found me jobs—catalogs, magazines, ads, commercials. We needed the money, especially when Aunt Rita’s health started to fail.”
How much loss could one child endure? Her heart ached for him. His voice was light, but the bottom line was he went to work when he was Carson’s age. “I bet being a good-looking boy didn’t help any in the shelters.”
He gave a huff of agreement. “Some places were better than others…as you probably know.” His thumb rubbed over the back of her hand. “Your turn, pet. Why’d you end up on the streets?”
“I grew up in a tiny Texas town. Mama took off when I was thirteen—ran away with a trucker. Pa was strict, being as he was a rancher and pillar of the church, and he turned bitter cold after Mama left. When I told him I was pregnant, he gave me an hour to get my stuff and all my whore’s belongings—and told me never to return.”
“But…” A muscle hardened in Holt’s cheek. “You were sixteen.”
“Yep.” Her smile felt crooked. “A few months before, when I started an after-school job, he’d given me one of the ranch clunkers so I could drive to town. So, when I left, I had a vehicle and the money I’d saved up from working after school.”
“I bet you drove from Texas to Florida, positive your good buddy Everett would help. The asshole.”
A bubble of laughter rose at Holt’s disdain. “You guessed it. Thus, I landed on the streets. It’s tough to make enough money to survive, and shelters sure are scary. However, the staff at one place was amazing. They helped me find work and cheap housing.”
He nodded. “They do try.”
“Is that why you help out? Because you know what the streets are like?”
“That’s why.” He was still studying her. “Where was Stella when all this was going on?”
“Oh, her husband died before Pa threw me out, and since everything reminded her of him—they’d lived in New York—she took an overseas job. Pa didn’t get along with her, and she didn’t learn I’d been kicked out for years.”
“How’d she find you?”
“When she retired and returned to the States, she visited the ranch. Apparently, after quite a shouting match, he handed over the letters I’d written to him.” She breathed past the stab of pain. “He never opened even one.”
“What a fucking bastard.”
“Forgiveness wasn’t in his vocabulary.” How different her life might have been otherwise. “Anyway, Oma found me and was appalled—although I thought I was doing pretty well by then. She fell in love with Carson and decided to settle in Tampa.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t buy a house and move you in.”
“She wanted to,” Josie admitted, smiling at the memory. “But she was getting on in years, was used to living with only her quiet husband, and then by herself. Carson was a young, very energetic boy. Instead, we visited several times a week, and she insisted on babysitting him during my evening jobs.” Josie took a sip of her wine. “Honestly, I was afraid if we overwhelmed her, she’d run back to Europe.”
Holt grinned. “She’s tougher than that.”
“Yes, she really is. I’m so glad we’re close enough to help when she needs a hand.” She gave him a rueful smile. “This is the first time I won’t see the New Year in with her and Carson.”
Holt squeezed her fingers and glanced at his watch. “How about we join them for the countdown?”
“Really?”
“Sure. I can’t think of anything I’d like better. Let’s order up a dessert to treat everyone at home, and I’ll ask Georgina for a bottle of champagne and something Carson would like.”
Her eyes filled with unexpected tears as he turned to signal the waiter. Oh, she really did love him, so very much.
Chapter Twenty-One
On Saturday, Carson walked out of his house in a filthy mood. Mom was cleaning and singing along with Huey Lewis and was all happy and everything.
Scowling, he pushed the garbage can down the driveway. Last night, he had sneaked into the kitchen for some cookies and on the way back, heard Holt talking. In Mom’s room. In the effing middle of the night.
Were they doing, like…sex? Was Holt Mom’s boyfriend?
Carson left the garbage can at the curb and wished he could dump it all over Holt’s yard. Would Holt marry Mom? Be around all the time?
Jeez. Was everything going to change…again? He’d already dealt with a new house and neighbors and friends. And a new school.
His shoulders slumped. Break was over. He’d be back in school on Monday and have to see Jorgeson. Would the science teacher be able to figure out who’d burned his classroom?
“Morning, Carson. How’s it going?” Holt came out of his duplex.
Carson smiled before remembering the guy’d been in Mom’s room. “Hey.”
“This is my day off, and I want to talk your mom into going out for pizza later. You in?”
Pizza, all right.
No.
Holt had the hots for his mom, and Mom was eating it up.
A sick feeling rolled over him until he wanted to run into his bedroom and slam the door so hard that his mom—and this neighbor—would know how he felt. “I…I’m hanging with friends today.”
“Ah. Too bad.” Holt stuck his hands in his shorts pockets. “You’ve probably noticed I like your mom, Carson. And you. I hope—”
“So, you go to work Monday, right? As a firefighter?”
The man blinked, then a corner of his mouth lifted.
Carson’s face was hot; his hands, too cold.
“That’s right. I actually do more of—”
“A big, hot firefighter.” After a fire engine demo at school, Carson’d heard the girls talking weird about hot guys and muscles. Holt was a firefighter; no wonder Mom was stupid about him.
Carson curled his lip. “Girls like firefighters. Is that why you went for it? Instead of doing something normal like running a store?”
Holt tried to think what he’d done to piss Carson off. Nothing…except date his mother. It seemed he had a jealous boy on his hands. He should have anticipated this. The boy had shown flashes of possessive behavior previously. Since Josie’s only dates had been when Carson was a toddler, the child hadn’t been forced to deal with a man in his mother’s life. Not until Holt.
Besides, Josie might not be the only one with trust issues. Everett had rejected Carson as well. “Actually, I was around your age when I decided to be a firefighter. Girls weren’t even a blip on my horizon.”
Probably braced for Holt’s anger, the boy looked as if the mild answer had messed u
p his balance. “My age?”
That day…wasn’t Holt’s favorite. But Carson needed to see him as a person, not a rival for Josie’s affection. “Yeah. My dad and I were on a mountain road. A drunk in a pickup took a curve too fast and smashed head-on into our car. Pinned my dad in the seat.”
Holt’s stomach twisted. He’d been knocked out. Woke to hear his dad groaning. Trying to talk. Struggling to breathe. He’d panicked, needing to help—only he couldn’t even get his door open. “Other cars stopped, but the grass under the pickup caught fire. It was fall. Everything was bone dry. Within minutes, the fire was spreading to the trees.”
Carson’s eyes were huge. “What happened?”
“A fire truck showed up, sirens screaming.” God, he still remembered the sense of awe when it appeared. The feeling of being rescued. He managed to smile. “They were amazing, and they got the fire out.”
“What about the drunk? His truck was on fire?”
Not everyone could be saved. Holt looked away from the kid’s big eyes. “Neither he nor his passenger made it. It wasn’t good.” The pickup’s tank had blown, killing the drunk and the young daughter. The girl’s voice was the first—and the most devastating—of the screams that haunted Holt’s dreams. Children and fire—dammit.
“Jeez. Was your dad okay?”
“The firefighters cut the door off and got him out.” Holt could still taste the smoke in the air, hear his dad’s groans. Memories…sucked.
Carson stared up into his face, and his lip quivered. “But was he o-okay?”
Holt shook his head. “No. The crash messed him up, and he died a couple of days later. But without the firefighters, he’d have died there, choking on his own blood.”
The boy turned pale.
Holt winced. Too blunt, dumbass. “Sorry, Carson. It’s not a good memory. But, yeah, that’s when I decided I wanted to be a firefighter.” They’d known what to do, moved as a team, had been gentle with his dad—and Holt, too.
The kid swallowed. “You had your mom though. Your mom was okay, right?”
Beneath the Scars Page 29
