Bitten by Cupid(24)
“All done? Shall we go?” Tiny asked, and Mirabeau glanced down at her empty plates wryly. So much for not eating. She’d pretty much inhaled the offerings he’d brought her.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” Stephanie announced, slurping the last of her own shake, a pink one that smelled of strawberries.
“You take her to the bathroom, and I’ll get the SUV started,” Tiny suggested, getting to his feet.
“Hey, I’m not a kid. I can take myself to the bathroom,” Stephanie protested, scowling at him.
Rather than point out that Mirabeau was to be with her to ensure she remained safe, Tiny grinned, and teased, “I thought you girls always went to the bathroom in packs?”
“Sexist,” Stephanie muttered, but amusement was tugging at her lips as she got to her feet.
They were pretty quick in the bathroom, but Tiny was quicker. He’d started the SUV and pulled it up to the door to collect them when they stepped outside.
“I was going to offer to drive,” Mirabeau murmured as she climbed into the front passenger seat after closing the back door behind Stephanie.
“That’s okay. I’m good. The break refreshed me,” he assured her.
Shrugging, Mirabeau settled in the seat and did up her seat belt as he started out of the parking lot. They were back on the highway when Stephanie suddenly leaned forward between the two front seats to ask, “What’s your real name, Tiny?”
Mirabeau glanced at him, curious about the answer to that herself, and caught the amusement tugging at his lips as he asked, “What makes you think it isn’t Tiny?”
“Because no one but a pair of spazzes would name their kid Tiny,” the teenager assured him dryly.
“Spazzes, huh?” Tiny chuckled, and then said, “Well as it would happen, my given name is Tinh.” He spelled it out, then added, “Tiny is just what everyone has always called me, like Billy instead of Bill.”
“Tinh?” Stephanie said with amazement. “What kind of name is that?”
“Vietnamese.”
“You aren’t Vietnamese,” she said, then asked uncertainly, “Are you?”
“No,” he said with a smile.
“Then why did your parents name you that?”
“My father was a soldier in Vietnam,” he answered patiently. “He was injured while on recon. He’s pretty sure he would have died where he fell had he not been rescued, and nursed back to health by a friendly named Tinh. Dad was never sure if that was his last name or first, but when he married mom and they had me, he named me after the man who had saved his life.”
“Oh,” Stephanie murmured. “I guess that was cool.”
“I always thought so,” Tiny agreed.
“I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t end up a little guy though,” Stephanie commented. “They would have been dooming you to a life of teasing and bullying, naming you that if you were little.”
“My being little was never very likely,” Tiny assured her. “My mother is five-ten, and my father is my size.”
“Hmm.” Stephanie grunted, then sat back in her seat. “I’m going to watch the end of the movie I started before we stopped to eat.”
Mirabeau glanced over her shoulder to see the girl putting earplugs into her ears and hitting the play button on the DVD player in the back of Tiny’s seat. She then turned back to face front, but found herself unable to keep from glancing at the man driving. Finally, she asked softly, “They’re still alive then? Your parents?”
“Oh yeah,” Tiny assured her. “Both retired and spoiling the grandbabies my little sister has given them…and cursing me for not giving them more yet,” he added with a wry smile.
“You’re close to them,” she realized, the thought troubling her.
“Yes,” he admitted, then glanced sideways at her, and added, “they’ll like you.”
Mirabeau held his gaze for a minute, then turned away to look out the window as she tried to settle the sudden quandary in her mind. She had only been considering her own point of view when it came to their being life mates. The risk it would be to open her heart up to him and possibly lose him at some later date as she had her family. She hadn’t considered what he might have to give up to be her life mate. That perhaps he wouldn’t be willing to give it up for her.
“Tell me about your family,” Tiny said suddenly.
Mirabeau glanced at him sharply, then away, muttering, “What do you want to know? They’re dead.”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “Marguerite said that your uncle killed them. Tell me how…and why?”