“Some old guy?” asked Trevor.
“That was gross,” Cait admitted. “He had, like, gray hair and kind of a wobbly chin. And I didn’t like the way he looked at me.”
“Belly dancing is sexy,” Molly said. “The problem is, most of the troupe are older than Cait. In their twenties, at least.”
“Bathsira, our leader, is, I don’t know, thirty-five or something,” Cait contributed.
Molly’s age, Richard thought with amusement. He wondered if fifteen-year-old Cait had thought to equate a dance partner with her aging mother.
“Bathsira?” Trevor echoed. “Really? In West Fork?”
Cait’s chin came up. “That’s her stage name. Her real name is…it doesn’t matter. We all have stage names.”
“Yeah? What’s yours?”
“Mariam.”
“That’s pretty.” Trevor was eating with astonishing enthusiasm. He’d polished off his first serving of manicotti and even the green beans and was reaching for the serving dish.
“I thought so,” Cait said. “Here, do you want some more garlic bread?”
“Yeah, cool.”
Trevor coaxed Cait to tell them the stage names of some of the other dancers, then asked if she’d perform after dinner.
“No! You’d just make fun of me, or…” Her cheeks got pink.
“I wouldn’t,” Trevor claimed. He shoveled in a big mouthful of manicotti.
“The dancing really is beautiful,” Molly said. “And Cait’s won some local contests. Somehow her body flows.”
There was a moment of silence, during which they all undoubtedly thought about Cait Callahan’s body, and what it was up to right now. She ducked her head. “Geez, Mom.”
“Well, you’re good.”
Cait looked at Trevor. “You should try dance. Some pro athletes do it, you know.”
Trev snorted.
“Coach Bowman would give his right arm if Trevor would only play basketball,” Molly said.
Caitlyn turned her blue eyes on him. “You should, you know,” she said earnestly. “If you’re that good. Why aren’t you playing?”
Richard made a fist under the table and gave it a surreptitious punch. He avoided meeting Molly’s eyes.
Trevor looked down at his plate. “I’m still thinking about it.”
“Our team could use some help,” Molly said matter-of-factly.
He hunched his shoulders. “Even if I wanted to… It’s not fair,” he finished in a burst, “if Cait can’t keep dancing.”
When nobody said anything for a minute, Richard did. “I’m proud of you for thinking about that.” He cleared his throat then nodded toward the garlic bread. “Molly, would you mind handing that to me?”
She did, and he passed it on.
“I wouldn’t mind,” Cait said tentatively. She was looking at Trevor. “Really. It might be fun to watch you play.” She flushed. “If it wouldn’t embarrass you.”
He swallowed hastily. “You mean having you there? No! I mean, I’d like it if you’d come to games.” Now his cheeks had reddened, too, and he stole a look from his dad to her mom. “If I decide to play.”
“I hope you do,” Molly told him.
Richard had feared the forbidden topic would act as a clot in the conversation, but somehow it didn’t. Next thing he knew the kids were comparing teachers, with Molly throwing in an occasional dry comment or raised eyebrow that kept Trevor and Cait one step inside the lines. Richard himself stayed mostly silent, but inwardly he rejoiced. He hadn’t seen Trevor this animated since a year ago summer. Caitlyn really was a beauty when she smiled and teased. He could understand the fascination, because it was her mother he kept watching, although he hoped not too obviously.
Instead of her daughter’s delicacy, she had a lush, earth-mother thing going. Dark wings of brows, hair of that rich auburn, determined to curl whatever she did to it. A mouth that was wide and generous when she was relaxed. And that skin—damn, that skin. Cream, was all he could think.
Cait’s was different, more of a porcelain that went with her almost-blond hair and blue eyes. Molly’s begged to be touched, as his itching fingers attested. He’d give one hell of a lot to see her naked, with those plump breasts and luscious hips and long, long legs....
He tuned in to realize he’d missed something. Dessert, it turned out. Molly was asking who wanted their apple pie à la mode.
“You have to ask?” he said, and she flashed a grin at him.
He pushed back his chair. “Hey, I’ll give you a hand. Uh, do you have milk? Apple pie. How can I eat it without milk? Trev? Cait?”