She frowns and a cute little divot forms between her brows. “Adult men tried to hit you?”
“More than once. She didn’t have good taste in guys. Except for Myles’s dad.”
Her compassion is magnified. “She didn’t think she deserved better.”
She says it so plainly that I’m ashamed I ever blamed Mom for the way she was treated, but I was young and I blamed everyone. “I know it’s not all her fault, but it was hard to see her make bad decision after bad decision.”
“Being under the influence doesn’t help.”
“No.” I take a drink of her cold beer and she playfully scowls at me, lifting my glass of whiskey to her mouth. We each take a drink. Someday, I’ll get her back on my deck, having a cold drink, and telling me about her day. “I just try not to repeat her mistakes, and I refuse to be anything like my dad.”
She rests her hand on mine. “I can already tell you’re not, but was he that bad?”
I tangle my fingers with hers. “He was not good. He was in and out of jail for various reasons, and then he went away for a long time. Four counts of vehicular manslaughter.”
Her eyes go wide. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“It’s because I don’t talk about it much. He wasn’t a huge part of our life, and now that he wants to be, I don’t have time for him.” I’ve never spent this long on the subject of my dad. It’s a relief to talk about him. She doesn’t have expectations or judgment like Lane, just questions. Lane would argue he’s not the same, but the vibe is there. He understands why I cut our dad off, but he’s disappointed I’m sticking to it.
“You don’t talk to him?”
I drink enough whiskey to coat my tongue. “Lane does, but he’s old enough to remember some of the good times between our parents. I just recall”—yelling, pain, and fear—“the bad.”
She rests her hand on my forearm. “It’s okay if you don’t have anything to do with him. You get to be the guy who protects that little boy.”
A lump forms in my throat. “Goddamn, Elodie. You can really punch the dough down and get to the heart of it.”
“It’s a hazard of the job,” she says softly. “But you’ve come so much farther than both of your parents, and I know you’ll give credit to Lane or Mae or even Myles, but you did the work on yourself. That’s pretty amazing.”
I’m not used to someone gushing about the real me. She’s pretty amazing. “I don’t enjoy talking about the way I grew up, but thanks for listening.”
“It helps me to get to know you, and to trust what you say.” She says it with such sincerity, I wish I had more baggage to bring up. “But I think it’s time we move on to something you do like?”
That’s an easy answer. “A sexy baker who has the sweetest little gasps when she comes.” There’s that blush again. Before I get hard in public, I grasp for another topic. “Tell me about you. What was culinary school like?”
Shadows drift across her eyes. “Lonely. I went to Austin and did a two-year program. I was way too young when I graduated to be off on my own, making decisions away from other adults who cared about me.”
She’s taking all the blame. “We all make questionable decisions when we’re twenty.”
“Sometimes the worst one a girl can make at that age is who she’s going to date.”
“Damn. You’re right.” When she nods, I stroke my thumb across the back of her hand. “I’m assuming that since you went to culinary school, there was a time you liked to cook.”
The corner of her mouth lifts, but sadness fills her eyes. Suddenly I want to return to my fighting ways. “I used to lovethe rush of a kitchen. I’d go home exhausted and thrilled to do it again. Then... it became an obligation. I don’t like tohaveto cook.” She lets out a small laugh. “I met my ex at my first job, and when you get him, you get his brother, Damon. But not likethat,” she rushes to tack on. “Damon used his own women.”
“I can’t imagine sharing you.” If I had her—if she gave herself to me—I’d make sure she never doubted that she was mine and mine alone, or that she could trust me.
“There’s the right thing to say again.” She takes a long swig of her beer. After she swallows, she glances at me, then chugs the rest. “I was a good country girl with big plans, but my ex was so cultured, so worldly—or so I thought.” There’s the melancholy smile again. “For a Montana girl whose dad only took vacations where the fly-fishing was excellent? I was a sucker.”
“Don’t blame?—”
She puts her finger on my lips. “I know.”
I lick my tongue out. A light tang of salt hits my tongue, but the hint of sweetness is there from her day of baking. I want her alone and all to myself, but I won’t interrupt her when she’s actually talking to me.
She traces my lips before dropping her hand. “He took me to London, then Paris. He acted like he’d been there before, and it was to buff up his ego, you know. I had no money for him to scam. I fell further under his spell. Soon, he had this big idea to start his own restaurant, but he needed time to research and raise capital. I didn’t know what that involved, so I was charged with paying our rent. Utilities. Food. That was the last two years of our relationship. Before that, he used me in other ways to save money.”
“What other ways?” I ask with a growl. A beat pounds in my temples. It’s lucky that fucker’s in jail or I’d risk being my dad’s roommate in prison.
