Greatest Distraction (Distracted #1) (21 page)

“I was just thinking I’m way underdressed. Wow. You look … you look hot.”

His chest rumbled with masculine laughter as he turned me to face him.

“No one’s going to be looking at me, Ryen. And if they are, it’s only because staring at you is like staring at the sun.”

“…So I’m going to
blind
people?”

“Ugh. Are you ever going to be able to accept a compliment? You’re freaking gorgeous, flawless, entirely too perfect for this world.” I shook my head, but he spoke again. “Yes you are. Anyway, are you ready? We don’t have much time and I don’t want to keep my mom waiting.”

“No probably not, never. Thank you, though. And yes, I think I’m as ready as I’m going to be,” I told him honestly. I was trying hard to not let my anxiety get to me. Sure, I talked a good game, but meeting a parent is a big deal … and we weren’t even dating. I couldn’t use that as a buffer. Nope, instead I was going to meet someone important to a guy who I liked, who I’d been intimate with, and try not to make a complete fool out of myself. Here was hoping, anyway.

Dane’s mom was already there when we arrived at
Ouest and, looking around at the crowd, I was pleased I’d chosen the dress I had. I wasn’t underdressed or overdressed – I guess you could call it ‘fitting in,’ but I hold strong against that term.

The hostess showed us to our table, and his mother stood in greeting. She hugged him warmly while I remained off to the side, taking her in. She was tall, about Dane’s height, and thin but not overly so. She wore a pink embroidered dress that just screamed designer, with a matching fascinator – one of those hats that aren’t really a hat, more like a hairpiece, that royals wear in Britain. In fact, she could have fit right in at a high society London wedding or something, bumping elbows with the
princess. I was surprised to find that she was a redhead, though I shouldn’t have been, knowing her heritage. Her hair was down, curled, and her makeup was done to perfection. She looked our age and it wasn’t from going under the knife, just her natural ability and complexion.
Damn she’s intimidating.

After they broke their embrace, she smiled kindly at me and waved us toward the chairs across from her. I would never admit it aloud, but I was very grateful Dane chose to sit beside me. A wa
iter placed glasses of water in front of us, along with mimosas. I was
so
out of my league in a restaurant that brought alcohol without asking.

“Brian, I’m so pleased you’re in the city.”
His mother’s voice was musical, her Irish lilt both charming and strong. There was no mistaking her heritage; if you’d somehow missed it from her hair and her jade-green eyes and freckles, you’d definitely catch it when she opened her mouth.

“Hey
, Mom, it’s good to see you. This is…” he started, but she cut him off.

“Miss
Macek, of course.”

“
Ryen,” I corrected her, cringing. There was the dreaded Brian + Ryen thing I wanted to avoid. Eesh.

“Of course. What brings you to the city,
Ryen?” she asked, sipping from her water. Her nails were manicured perfectly and the light glinted off a huge diamond on her left hand, momentarily blinding me. I shook my head before answering her.

“I’m on vacation. I decided I needed a break from Georgia
peaches.”Okay, so when I’m nervous I make lame,
lame
, jokes. I promise it sounded funny in my head … really.

“Ah. But you lived here before, if I’m not mistaken? There’s nothing quite like the city, I’ve learned.”

“Yes, ma’am, I lived here while I was in college. And no, there’s nothing quite like New York City. I love it here.”

“With the exception of the paparazzi, I’m sure. I’m sorry about the loss of your father,” she stated before turning to Dane. “Brian, your father is not pleased about the photos…”

“Mom, don’t. And I’m sure if he has a problem, he’ll talk to me and not use you to play telephone,” Dane cut her off bluntly, almost coldly.

“But, Brian,” she started and he held up a hand.

“No, Mom. We’ve been over this. Let’s not rehash the same argument.”

His mother sighed and looked like she was going to continue talking anyway, but our waiter interrupted to take our order. I ordered a salad, still full from breakfast, while his mom ordered tea sandwiches.
Dane shook his head and I glanced at him, my confusion like neon on my face.

“I’m not hungry,” he told me, a soft smile
playing across his expression. “Ryen made homemade French toast this morning.” His last was to his mother and I cringed for so many reasons. Not only had he admitted that we ate – doesn’t he know the girl code … whether you ate or not, you order and eat to be polite! – but also because he alluded to the fact he was with me this morning. That implied that he stayed the night, which he had, but staying the night implies sleeping together, again, which we had, but still. If I’d been nervous before I was now nervous
and
uncomfortable. Meanwhile, he sat back, grinning like a cat that ate the chocolate-covered canary.
Asshole.

“I’m going to try and forget I heard that,” she said, sighing, clearly unhappy.

“Well … you can try … but you’ll probably fail once the photos hit tomorrow’s tabloids,” he told her, grinning.
Wow this is going so well
, the voice inside my head said sarcastically. Dane reached over and grasped my hand, holding it tightly as I remembered the chasers outside my building this morning. Apparently he and I were ‘big news’ and they’d be following us around until someone did some drugs, or died … or something. Thankfully a car had been waiting for us, the valet throwing the key to Dane once we’d broken from the crowd.

“Brian, you know better. Really
, you’d think you never lived a day in the spotlight. You know how rumors grow and fester; photos are permanent, they may eventually disappear from memory, but they’ll be on the Internet forever.”

“I don’t see how pictures of
Ryen and I are a problem, Mom.”

“Your father –
”

“And I haven’t spoken in years.
Years
. I don’t care what he thinks of them, if they get his panties in a twist, or if they somehow offend him.”

His mother’s eyes met mine and I suddenly felt like I was intruding. I was confused, having no idea what they were talking about anyway, only able to deduce that Dane’s father had opinions about things – what, I couldn’t tell you. I moved to stand, pulling my hand from his, and he looked up at me in question.

“You two seem to need to talk. I’ll go out front or go for a walk or … something. I don’t know what you’re talking about anyway.” I turned to his mother as I opened my purse, searching for my cash. “Thank you for the invitation to brunch and I’m sorry if I’m somehow causing family problems. I just got here, in the city, and it wasn’t my intention. It was nice to meet you.”

I dropped a twenty on the table to pay for the salad I wasn’t going to be eating, to be polite, and started to step away. Not going to lie, I felt pretty proud of myself. I’d been diplomatic when I’d really been thinking
‘Stop talking in fucking riddles. They’re just pictures. Oh, and you shouldn’t have invited me if all you wanted to do was scold your son.’
But nope, didn’t say any of that.

My pride was short lived, however, when Dane also stood and snagged my hand, stopping me.
I gazed down at our hands, then to his face, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was glaring – yes, glaring – at his mother.

“
Ryen, I’m so sorry. My father doesn’t like my photos in the paper because it’s a reminder he can’t control me too. It’s a reminder that I’m not in the family business and
will never
be.” Sure, his words were directed toward me, but he never broke eye contact with his mom. I’d never seen him angry, but here it was. I counted my blessings that it wasn’t directed toward me.

“Brian
,” his mom started, but he held up a hand, also standing.

“No. Thank you for
brunch
and for interrupting our marathon for this. You could have just lectured me over the phone, you know. I love you, you know that, but nothing he sends you to say is going to fix that bridge. There is no ‘fixing.’ The bricks melted into pennies and fell into the East River long ago. We’ll talk later.”

Dane led me outside into the sunshine and I took a deep breath, trying to quash the unease inside me. What was the problem that our pictures were being taken? Why did his dad care? It’s not like I was Charles Manson’s daughter or something, infamous. Hell, I was just the daughter of a farmer. I wasn’t even
famous,
just ‘interesting’ in the eyes of the socialites of New York.

“I’m sorry
… my mom means well, she just has to live with my father,” he said softly, his fingers still linked with mine.

“No apologies necessary, really. Yes, I wish I had some clue as to what the hell went on in there – I
sorta feel like I was watching a foreign movie with no subtitles – but it is what it is. I know all about … moms. Mine’s crazy. Not saying yours is, but I know that word vomit runs in their blood. Mom blood … not crazy blood. I’m shutting up now.”

“You’re fucking adorable,” Dane announced, leaning down and capturing my lips in a gentle kiss. It stayed chaste and we broke apart quickly, not wanting to scar the elderly woman entering the restaurant. He tugged on my hand and we made our way to the rental car, the same beauty he’d driven me in after the charity gala. “So, what do you want to do for the rest of the day?”

“You don’t have to work?” I asked, making sure I wasn’t keeping him from something important. It was Sunday; most people went to church or other things, but I didn’t know the routine and structure of an architect’s life.

“Tomorrow, yes, but not today. It’s Sunday. Don’t tell me that those crazy Georgians work on Sundays
… That’s just wrong.”

“No, they don’t.” I smiled at the mock horror on his face before nudging him with my elbow. “So, I don’t really care
what
we do today, then. I’m up for anything.”

Up for anything, in Dane speak, for that night at least, was cosmic bowling. The next night he took me out on an old
-fashioned date – dinner and a movie. After that? Let’s see … there was a red carpet movie release, a lunchtime picnic in the park, a walk and dinner in Chinatown, and a Knicks basketball game. Apparently, from what I was told, the game was a ‘big one’… not that I know the difference between a little game and a big one. I’m not all that into sports, but Dane? Him, I’m into, so I went and didn’t complain. I wore a pair of jeans and the T-shirt he’d brought over, smiled when the Jumbotron landed on us, and didn’t even cringe knowing that it was going to make the gossip pages.

I guess you could say I was thoroughly distracted, happily so. I’d forgotten what it was like to feel special, to be the center of someone’s attention and affection. Elle called every
day to check on me and we’d talk, each time her spouting her fountain water of love and romance. They were the same conversations, only minor details changing, only different days. Nothing surprising there. What
had
surprised me were the text messages I’d get from Dane.