Tate huffed, “What is wrong with people? I swear I will never be that parent.”
“I hope I won’t be either,” Lyla sighed, staring at a hairline crack in her ceiling that had been there for twenty years. “But my mom always says that parenting throws you for loops that you never see coming. So…I guess I’d better keep my options open. Maybe I will be that parent.”
“Doubtful,” he smiled.
Tate set her yearbook aside and looked around once more. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any cheerleading uniforms you’d like to model for me, as long as we’re here?”
“Sorry, dude,” Lyla told him. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, there.”
“Lacrosse, then?”
“Nope.”
“Tennis.”
“Too much running. Pass.”
“Golf? How about golf?” he pleaded.
“Tate, if you want me to wear a short skirt for you, all you need to do is ask.”
He blew out a long, disgruntled breath. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“Buck up, chief. Grown women have terrific tricks up their sleeves—ones that’ll make your head spin.”
Tate nodded avidly, “I believe you, and I am one-hundred-percent down for that. Just…not here in this little pink bedroom. Feels weird. Sorry, not sorry.”
“Agreed,” Lyla laughed. “How about I meet you in the big city later, and we’ll see what we can get up to?”
“That’s a date. Now, on to more important items. When’s dinner, and what are we having?”
“My guess? Meatloaf at 6:30 sharp. It’s my mother’s go-to for guests she doesn’t know well. Congratulations.”
“And I’m assuming you want to hit the road after that?”
“Oh God, yes. I’d be burning rubber right now if I thought I could get away with it.”
“You can’t, Slick. Didn’t you notice how happy your folks were to see you?”
“On that note, I suppose we’ve been hiding up here long enough. If we stay here any longer, they’re bound to think we’re doing something indecent.”
He looked her over. “Which would be bad, because…”
“Tate, you just met my dad. Surely you don’t want him to deck you already?”
“He wouldn’t dare. I’m a decorated member of this country’s armed forces!” Tate protested, feigning outrage.
“Oh, he’d dare, alright. Now shine up that charm you keep telling me about, and maybe we’ll all get through the next two hours without coming to blows.”
Lyla pulled open her bedroom door and held her arm wide like a gameshow hostess.
Tate peeked into the hallway, then crowded up close to her when he saw that the coast was clear. “Yeah, the only word I heard there was blow. Why didn’t we want to get busy up here, again?”
“Because it’s completely inappropriate,” Lyla groaned. “Now come on. If you’re a good boy, I’ll get my dad to make you one of his famous martinis.”
Tate pecked her quickly on the lips and stepped away. “I’m driving, remember? No booze for me. Sorry, sweetheart.”
“That’s okay,” Lyla said airily. “I’ll drink yours, too. Maybe it will numb my pain.”
“Right, because that’s worked so well for you, so far,” he commented, dry as dust.
She scowled at him, then led Tate down the steps—and hoped like hell their remaining time here would pass quickly.
IN THE DINING room, Lyla’s mother had indeed served up meatloaf for dinner, along with the expected side dishes of mashed potatoes and creamed spinach. Basically, what every health-conscious vegetarian longed to eat for a light summer repast.
Lyla stifled her exasperation that her parents had made no allowances whatsoever for her food preferences, loaded up on the spinach and potatoes, and slid into the seat next to Tate.
Her mom was primed and ready to make conversation, it seemed.
“So, Mr. Monroe,” she said brightly, “You’re Delilah’s bodyguard.”
“That’s right,” he nodded, digging into his food like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.
Lyla’s father asked, “How’d you get into that line of work?”
Tate grinned, not the least bit bothered by their blatant prying. “Would you believe I knew a guy? He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
Her dad arched a dubious eyebrow, but at least he laughed along.
Lyla explained, “Dad, Tate is close friends with my new boss. That’s how he heard about the job.”
“I see. So there was cronyism at play, then.”
Tate, bless his heart, was still smiling amiably. “Or networking. It’s also called networking.”
Lyla’s dad humphed and took a bite of spinach. Her mom dove in with her next question. “Now Tate, you said you’re a captain. Do I have that right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What branch of the military are you in?”
“Army, ma’am.”
Lyla shook her head. Her mother did love manners in a man, and she was beaming at Tate like she wanted to award him a medal. She settled for offering him more meatloaf.
Lyla was certain she was never going to hear the end of this tomorrow.
While Tate piled two more slabs of meatloaf on his plate, Lyla’s dad asked him, “Why aren’t you on a base somewhere? You retired?”
“Actually, I’m on temporary leave at the moment.”
“I see. And why’s that?”
Lyla knew that look on her father’s face. He was going to keep trying to figure out the man his daughter had brought home, even if it took all night.
“Dad,” she warned, “let’s not—”
Tate patted her arm, though. “No, it’s okay.” He told her folks, “I caught a bomb upside the head a few months ago, actually. I’m on medical leave while I recover.”
Right. Like it was NBD. Lyla’s dad sat back in his chair and looked him over with new eyes.
Her mom’s hand flew up to flutter at her chest. “Oh no!” she gasped.
“No worries,” Tate continued blithely. “It took a while, but I’m right as rain now. I should be redeploying soon.”
Her father asked, “Great. Where you headed?”
Lyla tried again. “Dad, he’s—”
“I’m not at liberty to say, sir,” Tate interrupted gently. “I’m sorry.”
Both of her parents took breaths and opened their mouths, but Lyla had no desire to hear what snooping questions they’d come up with next.
She dropped her napkin next to her plate and begged, “Guys, can we please table the inquisition for now? Let’s talk about something else.”
“All right,” her mother said, clearly unhappy to be thwarted and drawing out the syllables. “What about…have you seen any good movies lately?”
Lyla blinked at her tart tone. “No, I can’t say that I have. Have you?”
Tate’s eyes ping-ponged between them as he chewed. He was no dummy—he knew this was a tentative truce, at best.
“Oh, yes,” her mom said. “We saw a lovely film last weekend with Bill and Midge. It was about this laundrywoman during World War I.”
“Really.”
It never ended with these two. Never. And if Tate weren’t here, Lyla would tell them so.
Her father warned, “Peggy…”
“Midge said—”
“Mom!” she squawked. “You promised not to bring them up again!”
“Maybe not the best story, Peg,” her dad murmured.
Beside her, Tate was gripping his fork with wide eyes and a faintly amused look, ready for more fireworks. Thankfully, though, Lyla’s mom backed down and resumed picking at her meatloaf.
Lyla met Tate’s inquiring gaze and looked pointedly down at her watch. “Oh, man. How did it get so late already?” she announced.
He was right on it, the big handsome stud. “What time is it, Lyla?”
“It’s already 7:30. We’ve got to get going!”
“Shoot. You’re right.” Tate set down
his fork and looked expectantly at her parents.
“You’re leaving? So soon?” Lyla’s mom bleated.
“I’m sorry.” Lyla stood and yanked Tate up with her. “I promise I’ll come visit again soon, okay?”
“You say that all the time, lately.”
“Come on, Mom. That’s not true.”
Her dad murmured, “Peg, leave her alone. Lyla has her own life. Besides, nothing’s stopping us from going into town to visit her, too, you know. We can make a day of it.”
Lyla agreed, “That’s right. You guys should. We can see a show or visit a museum…whatever you want.”
“Okay!” Her mother perked up at the promise of a fun outing. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we can set something up.” She stood and began gathering plates. “Do you want to take any leftovers home? Tate? Want some meatloaf?”
Lyla waved her off. “No thanks, Mom. Tate doesn’t have a fridge. We’re good. You want us to help clean up before we go?”
“No, your father helps me. Just leave everything where it is.”
Lyla’s dad pushed up from his chair and smoothed the wrinkles out of his pants. “I got some ice cream at the store today. Take some with you.”
“Dad, it’s okay. It will just melt in the car,” Lyla said. “Besides, I can buy ice cream two blocks from my apartment. I don’t need to get it here.”
This could go on all night, and probably would. She shot a pleading look at Tate, who immediately took her arm and steered her toward the front of the house. “Thank you so much for having me,” he called over his shoulder. “Dinner was terrific.”
“You’re welcome anytime,” Lyla’s mother said grandly. She picked up the stack of dishes, blew Lyla a kiss, and headed for the kitchen. “Drive safe, honey!”
At the door, Tate reached out to clasp her father’s hand. “Pleasure meeting you, sir.”
“Likewise. You keep our girl safe, all right?”
“Sure thing.”
“And Lyla, don’t forget to touch base with your mom tomorrow. She misses you, you know.”
“I know, Dad. I will.”
She grabbed her purse off the floor, hugged her father goodbye, and soon she and Tate were back in the truck and on their way.
“Sweet baby Moses,” Lyla groaned, massaging her forehead as they headed for the highway. “I am so sorry about that. My parents were acting even loonier than usual tonight.”
Tate just laughed. “Nah, they were all right.”
“They were cross-examining you!”
“Yeah, they were, weren’t they? I don’t think they bought the whole we’re just coworkers line.”
“Oh, no. Please don’t say that. I will never hear the end of it if those two caught even a whiff of potential coming off of us.”
Tate’s grin got wider. “What’s wrong, Lyla? Embarrassed of me already?”
“You know what I mean,” she fumbled. “I just don’t want to get their hopes up.” Or her own, for that matter.
Tate’s smile faded a little in the face of her distress. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” he muttered, leaving her with yet another thing to worry about, on top of all the others.
TWENTY-FIVE
THEY WERE TEN minutes outside of town when Tate got a call from Luca. He grabbed his phone from the cup holder and held it to his ear, not wanting to risk the speakerphone after the way their last conversation had gone.
“Hey, man. What’s up?”
“I heard you and Lyla were coming back tonight, so I wanted to make sure you knew that Daisy has our guest room all set up for you. When do you get in?”
“We’re about half an hour away,” Tate hedged, buying himself some time, “But listen, you don’t have to worry about me. I don’t want to intrude on your little love nest.”
“No intrusion,” Luca protested. “You’re family. You shouldn’t have to stay in some hotel with no one to feed you. Come here. Stay as long as you want.”
“I appreciate the offer. But let’s wait and see, okay?”
“Wait for what? Where are you going to sleep tonight?”
“TBD.”
There was a brief silence, during which Luca clearly attempted to read between the lines. “Okay, so if you hate the thought of staying here, Red said you could stay at their place on the North Fork. It’s beautiful out there. You should see it. Maybe take Lyla.”
“To Long Island?”
“Why not? He also told me if you really needed to be in town, you could take their loft and they’ll go out there. Either one works for them. Whatever you want, he said.”
“You two need to stop worrying about me. I’m a big boy. I can figure it out,” Tate laughed. He did relax a little, though, knowing he had a few more backup plans if what he really wanted to do didn’t pan out.
“I realize that. We just want to help,” Luca said. “And please remember, Tate…we deserve to be a little bit selfish, here. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you.”
“It’s been three months!”
“That didn’t count. You weren’t yourself. We want to spend quality time together before you leave again.”
“You will, dude. We have some leeway still. Don’t worry.”
“How much leeway?”
“That’s a subject for another conversation.” Tate peeked at Lyla, and sure enough, she was listening in curiously. “I’ll call soon, okay?”
“We’ll be up late if you change your mind. Just give the doorman your name and he’ll buzz you in.”
“Thanks, brother, but don’t wait up.” Tate disconnected the call and darted another look at Lyla.
“What was that about?” she wondered immediately.
“It was Luca. He wanted to know if he and Daisy should expect me to stay over tonight.”
“Oh.” Lyla seemed taken aback. “Why?”
“Well…I guess because you and I didn’t exactly hash out what we were going to do once we got back to town. My status is a little bit up in the air.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for starters—where do you envision me staying at night?” Tate held his breath, waiting to see how Lyla would respond.
She frowned. “I guess I assumed you’d go back to your hotel.”
“I gave up the suite when you and I left for your tour. It seemed like a waste, since I was going to be gone for so long. Red and Luca were agitating for me to stay with one of them once we got back, anyway,” Tate explained. “Now, it seems that the Trident folks were so busy canceling your last events, that no one thought to book me something new.”
“Ah. That is a bit of an oversight.”
“The problem, as I see it,” Tate told her, “Is that Red’s place is down in Chelsea and Luca’s is over on the east side. If I stay with one of them—”
Lyla picked up his train of thought instantly. “You won’t be close to me.”
Tate nodded. “Exactly, which rules them out as crash pads, as far as I’m concerned. So, let’s think this through—what is close to you? Where can I get a room nearby? It doesn’t have to be anything fancy.”
Lyla’s frown deepened, and she nibbled uncertainly on her lush lower lip. “Tate, I’m not sure how you’ll feel about this, but what if…”
His heart dipped and leaped with hope. There was only one thing he wanted to happen here, but he couldn’t ask for it. It had to come from her.
“What?” he prompted.
“What if you stayed with me?” Lyla asked in a nervous rush. She added, “I mean, it makes the most sense, and we’ve been handling it well, so far. I think. And even though my apartment is smaller than some of those suites we had, I do have a comfortable pull-out couch. And working A/C. And indoor plumbing. It’s not very neat, though. I should mention that.”
“It’d be a lot safer,” Tate acknowledged happily, “But are you sure you don’t mind having me underfoot?” He really, really wanted to be, though. Under any part of her, really—Tate wasn’t particular.
�
�I’d feel better not being alone, to be honest. At least until they catch my superfan, anyway.”
He tried not to let his relief and triumph show too obviously. “Okay. Well, if that’s what you want, then that’s what we’ll do.”
Lyla brightened. “Do you have anything you need to pick up anywhere?”
“Nope. I travel light. I have everything I need right here in this truck.”
That was putting it lightly. He may have won this small victory, but what the hell was Tate going to do when he finally got cleared to head back to his unit? How was he supposed to walk away and just leave this incredible woman behind?
They’d essentially been living together for weeks, and now he knew that was going to continue. Tate had met Lyla’s parents tonight, for crying out loud. True, it’d been a bit like having discount seats at a low-rent boxing match, but come on—Tate hadn’t met a woman’s parents in a decade or more.
It felt important. Meaningful.
He dwelled on why that was for the rest of their drive, and for the whole time Lyla was getting him settled into her cozy little apartment.
None of this could end well for him at all, but Tate simply couldn’t resist squeezing out every last second of time with her. Someday soon, it was going to come to an end.
WHILE LYLA BUSTLED around, unpacking and attempting to rearrange some of her larger piles of clutter, Tate parked himself on her couch and took a stab at writing out a list for tomorrow. He ought to pick her up some groceries, for one thing, and they needed to check in with Lyla’s PR people, too.
He probably ought to find a place where he could get in a few workouts, Tate thought, so he didn’t turn into a total bump on a log while he was here.
He’d also have to figure out a better place to park his brother’s truck than the expensive garage they’d stashed it in tonight—or come up with a plan to get it back to his parents’ house soon.
He should probably coordinate that trip with his next Med Board evaluation. They hadn’t given him a specific date yet, but by the time they got around to it, Tank and the rest of the team would no doubt have already snatched up el-Kadir and taken him in to answer for his crimes.
The Hero Was Handsome (Triple Threat Book 3) Page 23
