Devil You Know(Lost Boys Book 1)(36)
I was in my old neighborhood, stopping by to say hi to Mom. I’d been thinking about that scene at the restaurant with Uncle Tim. He had handled it like a man who had been through it before, but to have to face the families of the victims had to be hard. And thinking about Uncle Tim had Dad drifting into my thoughts. When I felt melancholy over missing him, I liked coming back to the Bronx, to my childhood home, because there were lots of really great memories. I had just reached the front steps when I heard my mom scream. I flew up the steps and pushed through the door but the sight that greeted me took a second or two to sink in. My mom was in a pair of Juicy sweatpants, her ass in the air and a very sexy, young man stood over her.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Mom jerked upright and peered at me from over her shoulder. “Yoga lessons.”
“Yoga? You?”
Mom touched the younger man’s arm. To be accurate in the retelling she was stroking him like one would a cat. “I’ll be right back. Let’s take a little break.”
“Sure thing, Rosalie.”
She flashed him a smile before she walked past me, reached for my hand and pulled me to the kitchen.
“Yoga? Who are you and what have you done with my mother?”
She walked right to the plate of donuts on the counter and shoved half of one in her mouth.
“You are having Yoga lessons but on breaks you’re shoving your face with a donut. Have you lost your mind? It’s happened hasn’t it? Oh my God, nothing like seeing what I’ll become in thirty years.”
“Oh stop being so dramatic. I’m eating this donut because I love donuts, and yoga—downward dog—can suck it.”
That sounded more like my mom. I got my exercise habits from her, but considering she was still the same size as she had been when she married my father over forty years ago…whatever pact she made with Satan I hope extended to me as well.
“So who is Mr. Hot and Sweaty?”
“He’s adorable, isn’t he? I don’t even need to do the yoga. He can just sit on the sofa so I can stare. I ran into him at the market; like literally, he wasn’t watching and our cars almost collided in the parking lot. We got to talking and he mentioned he was a yoga instructor.”
“I’m sorry, you brought home the man who almost ran into you?”
“Yeah, he’s charming. I checked his references first.”
“I don’t even know what to say. Talk about throwing caution to the wind.”
“Cam cleared him.”
“Cam looked into him?”
“Yeah, I’m not crazy.”
“You picked up a man who is more than half your age at the grocery store, after he nearly crashed into your car, and had your cop son run a background check on him before agreeing to have him tutor you in the art of yoga in the privacy of your own home. Yeah, I think the jury is still out on your sanity.”
She gave me the mom look, the one that used to bring fear and now only had me stifling a laugh.
“So, he gave you his card and you called him because when your instructor looks like him, yoga can’t be all that bad.”
“Exactly.”
“And he makes house calls?”
“Apparently.”
That was unusual but effective. If I could get a hottie like that to come to my place, I might take up yoga too. Probably not.
Mom pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “The truth is I loved your father but he’s gone and though I miss him every day, he would be really angry if he knew I wasn’t sucking up all I could out of life.”
“He would, I’ve been saying that.”
“You have. So I’m finding fun. Yoga isn’t fun, but hot pants in there is helping me keep in shape.”
“I really hope that’s not code for something else.”
She slapped my arm. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“You do realize you’re objectifying your yoga instructor.”
“Yeah. So what?”
“I came for a visit, but I don’t want to interrupt your lesson.”
Mom gave me a look I knew I gave often to my friends. It was unnerving when you realized you were more like your mom than you ever thought or even wanted.
“We should do dinner out, something fun and frivolous. Invite the girls.”
Mom loved Kimber and Ryder like daughters. “I’ll arrange something.” I reached for a donut and started from the kitchen.
“He’s waiting for you.”
Mom eyed the plate of donuts.
“You aren’t getting another one down your throat in the time it takes to walk back into the living room. And you have powder…” I pointed to my chin “…here.”