Dangerous Kiss (Dangerous Noise 1)

I love my mom, but she can be a little judgmental about appearances. It's not her fault, exactly. Her parents were the same way. The second she saw Ethan's tattoos and his just-rolled-out-of-bed hair, she judged him as wannabe bad boy loser who is wasting my studious daughter's time.

She never flat-out said he wasn't good enough for me. Hell, she tried to be supportive of our relationship. But I could always tell she hoped I'd realize I could do better.

I clear my throat. "Someone from college."

Mom raises a brow but she says nothing as she scoops food onto her plate.

I do the same. The chicken smells amazing but the vegetable curry calls my name. I mix it with plenty of basmati rice and I take a bite. The carrots are sweet, the green beans are crisp, the potatoes are soft. And it's spicy too.

"Thanks for getting dinner, Mom." I take another bite and chew it incredibly slowly.

Mom nods you're welcome. She gives me a long once-over. "Is that a new dress?"

Her tone is friendly but the implication is there. Why don't you buy some normal clothes, Violet?

"It was on sale." And I like everything about the black and purple fit-and-flare dress.

"Do you have a suit for job interviews? It's getting to be that time, isn't it?"

"It is." And I still haven't decided what field I want to go into after school.

Damn, she's looking at me expectantly. There's a softness in her eyes. This is something Mom knows—she knows how to get jobs as a woman in STEM—and she wants to help me.

Telling her I'm about to bail on spring break at home is going to crush her. It's not personal, really. She and Dad are sweet, supportive parents, even if they never really got my sense of humor, my style, or my taste in movies.

Okay, need to soften this blow. "I, uh, I was offered a gig for the next week and a half, and I think I should take it. But it means I'm leaving." Okay, judging from the way her eyes are turning down, there's the blow. Now to soften it. "But maybe we could meet up to shop for suits tomorrow, before I leave."

"We can go on my lunch break." Her brows arch with confusion. "What kind of gig?"

I can't tell her I'll be working with my rock star ex-boyfriend. I certainly can't tell her I'll be sharing a bus with four men and, possibly, an assortment of roadies.

I try not to lie, but this is one of those times where it's the only option. "The place in New York where I interned last summer. It's a really great opportunity, and I need the cash."

She presses her lips together. "Dad and I can always help with money."

"I know." But I'd rather feel self-reliant. "If I really need help, I'll ask."

"Okay."

"You can pick out my suit," I say.

Mom chuckles. "Violet, you know I only bring up your unique style because I worry about you."

I nod.

"Your makeup isn't my kind of thing, but you pull it off well."

I smile. "You really think so?"

She nods. "But you'll wash it off for job interviews?"

"I'll tone it down by ten percent."

"Twenty," she counters.

"Okay, twenty. And how about we watch a movie after dinner? Your pick?"

Mom lights up. "Of course, sweetie."