Beneath This Ink (Page 22)

“I won’t insult her.”

Con reached down and grabbed my hand. “Thank you. Now come on, before she throws us out for being late.”

I hadn’t known what to expect when I’d brought Vanessa to Mama Vee’s. I wouldn’t lie and say it hadn’t been a test. Because it had been. But by the end of lunch, I wasn’t sure who was being tested.

Vanessa hadn’t insulted Mama Vee. Not in the least. She’d been gracious. Charming. Engaging. There was no doubt that Vanessa would have an open invitation to return—with or without me.

Vanessa had opted for the rotisserie chicken, and the smear of BBQ sauce across her cheek reminded me of the strawberry jam I’d wanted to lick off her face in the kitchen of the gym.

And while I didn’t pretend to completely understand her hang up with food, at least I had some sort of explanation for her behavior.

It was startling to learn that Vanessa’s life hadn’t always been as easy as I’d assumed. It was even harder to believe the perfect princess hadn’t always been quite so perfect. I wondered how I’d never known. Probably because I’d kept to myself in school and had paid no mind to gossip of any kind.

Then Mama Vee surprised us both.

“Your mama would have loved seeing you all grown up like this,” she said as I collected the plates and shoved them in the trashcan, and Vanessa gathered the condiments on a tray.

My attention fixed on Vanessa, who was flicking the edge of the ketchup label with her fingernail. Her eyes came up and met Mama Vee’s.

“You knew my mother?”

Mama Vee nodded. “Before I had my own catering business, I spent a lot of years prepping in kitchens for other people. Your mama was a very particular woman.”

Vanessa blinked and reached for the salt and pepper. “Yes, particular was a good word for her.”

Mama Vee wiped her hands off on her apron and laid one over Vanessa’s. “That little girl you were? She was a beautiful child. And the woman you are now? Is a credit to you. Not even your mama could find fault with that.”

Vanessa squeezed her eyes shut, and I was afraid that tears would start spilling. Crying women were not something I knew how to deal with effectively. Man down and bleeding from shrapnel? That I could handle. Flying bullets and incoming mortar rounds? Bring ‘em on. But a crying woman? Not so much.

But Vanessa didn’t let the tears fall. She straightened her shoulders and looked Mama Vee in the eye. “Thank you.”

“You look like you need a hug, child,” Mama Vee whispered in her gravelly smoker’s voice.

I figured Vanessa would just shrug it off, but she did something that surprised me even more than Mama Vee bringing up Vanessa’s mother: she rounded the table and wrapped her arms around Mama Vee’s neck.

Mama Vee hugged her right back, and I just stood and watched. Amazed.

It seemed that I’d judged Vanessa wrongly when I’d decided to label her a stuck up bitch without a heart. Because she very much had a heart, and I didn’t know many stuck up bitches who would lower themselves to hug a woman clearly their social inferior. But I was seeing it.

I owed her an apology.

That feeling didn’t last long.

I helped Vanessa off the bike in the small garage tucked behind Voodoo. I felt like I was looking at a completely different person than the one I’d helped climb on only an hour and a half ago. Taking her to Mama Vee’s had peeled away a few layers and revealed things I hadn’t expected. Vanessa Frost was more than met the eye. I wanted to keep peeling back those layers.

And her clothes.

I retrieved her purse from the saddlebag, and we stood beside her car in the alley. I wasn’t ready to let her go back to her world quite yet. I liked having her in mine. A little too much. “You busy tomorrow night? I’ve got appointments until late, but I want to take you somewhere.”

“I’d have to check my calendar. It’s gotten really busy with everything going on these days.”

I gritted my teeth. “Blowing me off already? I wouldn’t recommend it.” My words carried an edge I didn’t even try to hide.

She blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“I’d have to check my calendar isn’t giving me a shot, princess.”

Hitching her purse higher on her shoulder, she stared me down. “Would you rather I agree and then blow you off later? I’m trying to be honest. If I’m supposed to trust you, then I guess you’re going to have to trust me, too.”

I crossed my arms and huffed out a laugh. “Guess you’re right. But it’s a little hard to trust someone who tried to sneak out of my bed so she wouldn’t have to look me in the eye and admit we’d slept together.”

As soon as the words were out, I wanted to snatch them back. Fuck. I hadn’t meant to bring that up.

Instead of turning on her heel and climbing in her car, she followed my lead and crossed her arms over her chest. I tried not to notice the way her tits plumped up under that orange dress. Tried—and failed.

“You’re the king of the one-night hit it and quit it program. It’s rich that you’re giving me hell about something you’ve probably done dozens of times.” On a roll, she uncrossed her arms, stepped forward, and poked a finger into my chest. “The only reason it pisses you off—”

I didn’t let her finish. I grabbed her hand and dragged her closer. “The only reason it pisses me off is because I wasn’t done with you.”

That shut her up. For about five seconds.

“That’s not how I remember it, Constantine.” The way she spat my name heated my blood.