“Is that why you were in the kitchen trying to make an apple pie? To impress Bentley or his mother?”
“Maybe both.” Her shoulders sunk some. “I’ve never tried to impress someone by being someone who I’m not. It’s time I admitted the truth to myself. I’m not cut out to be Bentley’s wife, or a senator’s wife at that. I don’t have cooking skills, and I don’t even know if I want a baby. Now or ever. God, if I said that to Bentley, he’d believe he was talking to Satan.”
“Do first lady’s cook and take care of their children without nanny’s?” Bear questioned.
“I don’t know and at this point it doesn’t matter. There’s no room in my life for Bentley, or his mother. He made his choice and he should stick with it. Let him go find himself a proper wifey who will cater to him and have lots of parties where everyone adores how pretty their house is decorated. Someone with birthing hips to have lots of babies.”
His chuckle made her look. “Sorry, but that’s hilarious. I thought only horses and cattle had birthing hips.”
“Oh, please let’ change the subject.” She shuddered. “I know what I want to know. What’s your real name? You’ve never told me. That’s odd.”
“You never asked.” He didn’t like talking about himself. Never did because there was a fine line between what he could reveal and what he couldn’t. He couldn’t remember what it was like to not live secretly. Now he guessed this had become a way of life. Oddly, no one really cared to ask about his real name until now.
“Well, I am now.” She tapped her nails against the glass as she tilted her head, as if sizing him up. She turned her attention back to the road. “Pull over!” she yelled.
He slammed on the brakes in reaction. The tires squealed and the scent of rubber filled the truck. “What the fuck, Aasia?” he muttered.
She flung open the door and flew out. He watched her in the headlight beams bending down to look at something in the road. What the hell was she doing?
“Aasia? Get back in the truck.” When she paid him no mind, he slipped out of the driver’s side and met her at the front fender. “Aasia?”
She turned and showed him the tiny furball tucked in the crook of her arm. The fluffy eared, black spotted kitten meowed. “I think he must be lost.” Aasia nuzzled his head.
“His ma is probably out here somewhere. She’ll come and get him,” he said and took a step back toward the door. “Let’s go.”
“Are you suggesting I should put him back on the road to fend for himself?” The beams of the headlights seemed to intensify her disappointed expression.
He swiveled on his heels. Her gaze had narrowed on him and she wasn’t moving. “He’s young. When they wander the mama cat always finds them. Trust me.”
“We have no way of knowing that. What if momma cat is hurt? Or worse? There are coyotes in these woods.”
The kitten let out a loudmeowas if to second her words.
He hooked his thumbs into his front pockets. He knew he was toast. “Then what do you want to do?”
“Take him home,” she said without hesitation.
“Home?”
“Yes, as in where I live,” she didn’t bother hiding the sarcasm in her tone.
“I was afraid that’s what you meant.” He walked around to the passenger seat and motioned for her to get in. As shewas climbing into the truck, her foot slipped and he caught her. “Steady on your feet, Grace,” he teased.
Once she was tucked into the seat for a second time, he strode around and climbed in. The kitten stared at him with big dark eyes. He felt like he was at the end of a firing squad.
“Do you not like cats?” Her question was more like an accusation.
“I’m indifferent.” He pulled the truck back onto the road.
“Isn’t he the cutest though?” She lifted the kitten up and touched her nose to his.
Why did Bear feel a bit of envy? He’d liked to be on the end of that affection.
“Bear?”
“Yes?”
“I can’t go home drunk like this,” Aasia said in a serious tone.
