His mother cleared her throat in an obvious language warning.
Mal sat with his arm stretched across the back of our bench. He’d put on a black Henley to cover his tats, and a dry pair of Chucks. I tried not to look at him too long, terrified of going crazy eyed in front of his parents. Memories of what we’d gotten up to in the bath simmered too near the surface.
“Explain yourself,” he ordered.
“All I’m saying is that you’re a natural performer. It just makes sense you’d be the youngest.”
“Right.” He cocked a brow, his gaze shifting to his folks. His hand, however, shifted higher on my leg, sliding up beneath my skirt. I grabbed hold of his fingers, squeezing them hard in warning, before he could make a move for anything important. Only a quirk of his smile betrayed him. “Anne’s the oldest. You should see how she is with her sister, Mom. Protective doesn’t cover it. I’m surprised the girl isn’t bubble wrapped.”
His mother smothered a smile.
“I am not overly protective,” I said. “She’s twenty. She’s an adult now. I respect that.”
“Do you?” Damn, I liked him teasing me. I liked the familiarity in his gaze. “Ben said he was afraid for his life when you caught him checking her out. He was wondering if he needed to protect the family jewels.”
Lori made another admonishing noise at the mention of testicles but Mal just charged on. “He said you looked ready to annihilate him.”
This information I liked much less.
“He talked about Lizzy?” My eyes narrowed, all good humor long gone. I didn’t even want Ben Nicholson to know she existed. “She’s too young for him. She needs to be concentrating on school.”
“Relax, momma bear. So happens, I agree.” Mal smiled broadly, rubbing the back of my neck, soothing me instantly. Christ, his hands. As much as I liked his parents, hopefully this wouldn’t be a long, drawn-out dinner. Short and sweet was the way to go. Mal and I had things to do.
“We’ll keep Benny boy away from your baby sister,” he promised quietly. “Don’t worry.”
“What about your mother, Anne?” asked Lori. “Where is she?”
I flinched and Mal’s fingers paused against my neck. I didn’t need to see what look he was giving me. What I needed was to move the conversation onward and upward. “She’s, um … she’s back in So Cal. She’s fine.”
“And your father?”
“He left. Many years ago.” It was better than saying “Fuck knows.” And why sugarcoat it, right? Facts were facts. I picked up my remaining half slice of sourdough bread, nibbled at the crust. It was nice but I was full. We needed something neutral to talk about but the now-empty dinner plate offered no inspiration. My brain wouldn’t cough up a damn thing.
“You two staying for the first few tour dates?” asked Mal. I could have kissed his feet for the save.
“We’ll see,” said his dad.
“Of course we will. At least the first,” Lori corrected. “We love seeing you and the boys play. How are they all? Jimmy feeling better?”
“He’s good, Mom. They’re all doing good. Davie wants to introduce you to Ev as soon as possible.”
His mom happy sighed. “I would love to meet her. I always knew David would settle down first. He’s such a sensitive soul, more so than the rest of you.”
“I’m sensitive. I’m nothing but a big ball of mushy sensitive stuff inside. Tell her, pumpkin.”
“Your son is very sensitive,” I dutifully recited.
“That didn’t sound believable.” He gently tugged on a strand of my hair, moving in closer. “My feelings are hurt. You’ve wounded me. Kiss it better.”
“Apologies.” I gave him a brief but sweet kiss on the lips.
“That the best you got?” He rubbed his lips against mine, trying to lure me in deeper. “You should be ashamed of yourself. I think you can do much, much better than that. Why, you missed my mouth entirely.”
“Later,” I whispered, doing my best to keep things below an R rating in front of his parents. But damn, it was hard.
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
“Such a pity you weren’t home when we dropped by your place earlier, Anne,” said Lori. “But you have a lovely little apartment.”
“Thank you.”
“Malcolm just needs to stop breaking your furniture and causing floods.”
Mal groaned. “A man needs to be free to bounce on beds and bathe as he sees fit, Mother.”
“You’re twenty-seven-years old, honey.”