Your Alluring Love (The Bennett Family 6)

“Not the point. I just want you to have a good life.”

“I do. You take good care of me. The hose you bought me for Christmas is perfect. My flowers have never looked better.”

Yeah, because a functioning hose improved her quality of life so much. It pisses me off that I can’t reason with my own mother. I can’t find the arguments to make her understand.

In an obvious attempt to switch topics, she starts talking about her friends at the book club and their antics, and I let the issue slide for now. I won’t lie, I phase out sometime during her monologues, but despite the borderline ridiculous things her friends are up to (apparently holding pageant competitions among dogs is all the rage, because why not?), I’m glad she has a circle of people she can trust. For a long time after her second divorce, she was very lonely.

“So I’m going to get a dog,” she finishes. “A pug!”

“You won’t win any pageants with pugs, Mother. They look more like rats than dogs.”

“Nate!”

“You already got your dog, didn’t you?”

“Yes, and she’s lovely. Found her in a shelter. I’m not too sure what her name is. The shelter owner said it’s Becky, but she doesn’t answer to that. I’m trying to get her to answer to Felicia. Isn’t it a beautiful name?”

“It is.”

“Now I’m fighting to get Clarissa Lawson to include her in the upcoming pageant. She says pugs aren’t among the races admitted to the pageantry. I swear the woman’s out to get me.”

Or she agrees with me that pugs look a lot like rats, but volunteering this fact out loud would put me squarely in the enemy camp.

“Do you want me to pull some strings?”

“Really?” she asks hopefully.

“The network has a minor segment for canines. I can ask them to contact Clarissa and tell her they’d

be interested in highlighting the competition, but only if she accepts pugs.”

“Sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

Yep, that’s my mother. She won’t let me lift a finger for her mortgage, but pulling strings for her pug? It’s all fair game.

We chitchat until I arrive at the studio, focusing on me. All the while I rack my brain for any argument I could use so she’d let me take care of her mortgage. Right before we end the conversation, she asks me not to forget about Felicia. It takes me a few seconds to remember it’s the pug’s name.

“I’ll see to it first thing today,” I assure her, considering this a step in the right direction. A baby step, but it’s better than nothing.

***

At ten sharp that evening, I’m in front of Alice’s restaurant, but the woman in question is nowhere to be seen. Since she’s not answering her phone, I head inside. The restaurant is chock-full, and servers are running around with plates. The kitchen might close at ten, but the restaurant remains open until twelve.

After explaining to one of the waiters that I’m here for Alice, he brings me to her. She’s in one corner of the kitchen, placing lids on plastic containers with such force I’m surprised they don’t break. The waiter scurries away, as if afraid Alice might see him.

The rest of her staff is at a considerable distance from her, tiptoeing around. Ah, I know what this means. Alice is mad, and her staff is trying not to cross her.

“Blowing me off already, Alice?”

She spins around, a plastic lid in her hand.

“It’s ten already? I’m so sorry, Nate. I… lost track of time.” She looks at the plastic containers on the counter with guilt.

“Need help finishing?”

She nods. “It’ll be quicker. I should have started earlier, but I got caught up with… other things.”

We work side by side for the next few minutes, and I can practically feel the anger radiating off her. She’s wearing a cream-colored dress, and her skin is flushed. She only flushes when she’s pissed, or embarrassed. Briefly, I wonder if her skin turns the same color when she’s aroused. I think it would. The temptation to test my theory is stronger than ever. But she’s off-limits, damn it.