Resisting Roots (Lotus House Book 1) (16 page)

Mary’s head bobbed up and down. “Totally! I’ll color you a picture.”

Oh, man, there it was. My mother smiled huge, her eyes tearing up.

“I would love that, dear.” She walked over to the fridge and cleared a spot. “And when you’re done, I’ll put it right here so I can look at it every day.”

Mary radiated happiness. Mom had not lost her way with kids. An unusual feeling hit my chest, kind of like a cross between an ache and a heartbeat. I rubbed at it, went to the fridge, got myself and Dad a beer and a soda for Rowan and Mary. I set the loot down on the counter and passed out the drinks.

“Babe, you want a glass of wine or a beer?”

Genevieve glanced at my mother.

“It’s okay, gumdrop. Ma’s having wine. Right, Ma?”

“You betcha, sport.”

Genevieve smirked. “Sport?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Oh, I like that one. Sport. Suits you.”

Ma came over with an opened bottle of white wine and a glass. “It always has. My big jock.” Ma hugged my side and checked on Mary’s drawing. “Ms. Mary. That is stunning. You’re an artist for sure!” she gushed.

Ma laid it on a little thick, in my opinion. I glanced at the image. The girl did have talent, though.

“Thank you, Mrs. Fox.” Mary wiggled in her chair and bit her lip as she made sure whatever she was coloring was just right.

“How’s about you call me Grandma Fox? I’m old enough to be your grandma. Do you have any grandparents, honey?”

Mary solemnly shook her head.

“Well, you do now. How does that sound?”

Mary smiled wide. “Sounds awesome. Right, Row?” She nudged her brother.

“Of course, Mare.” His cheeks pinked up, and he played with his soda can.

I looked at my girl, and instead of seeing a similar smile, she was ghostly white. “Excuse me.” She got up. “Where’s the bathroom?” Her face was strained and her hands shook.

Taking her by the hand, I ushered her down the hall and to the bathroom. I planned to go in with her, but she slammed the door in my face. All I could hear after that was the water running in the sink.

Ma rushed down the hall. “What happened? Is she feeling ill?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. She seemed fine, and then after you told Mary to call you grandma, her face turned white and she looked like she was going to hurl.”

My mother closed her eyes and leaned up against the wall. “Shoot. Way to go, Joan. I screwed up, sport.”

“Why?” I had no idea what would make Ma think that Genevieve feeling unwell had anything to do with her.

She leaned her head against the wall and then let out a slow breath. “Too much, too soon,” she said. “I’ll handle this. Just keep the other two entertained. I already took the chops off the stove, so we’re fine for now.”

Frowning, I shuffled from foot to foot and looked at the closed door. Part of me wanted to storm into the bathroom and make sure she was okay. The other part wanted to run far away from any potential drama that might unfold. Women rarely made sense. In the end, I decided that if Ma was willing to take on whatever happened and smooth things over, I needed to allow her female expertise to do its thing.

“
G
enevieve
, dear, please open the door. I need to speak with you.” The sweet voice of Trent’s mother lilted through the door.

I stared at myself in the mirror and wiped at my eyes, removing any residual mascara that had tracked down my face during my mini-panic attack. They didn’t come that often, but when they did, I usually needed more than a few minutes to pull myself together. Maybe she’d think I was sick and Trent could just take us home.

“Sweetheart?” She tapped at the door again.

I opened it and was about to lie when she pulled me into her arms.

“Oh, Genevieve, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come on so strong with your brother and sister. It’s just that I’m so excited to have you here.”

“It’s okay. Everything is so confusing right now. We don’t have any family, and here you are blessing us with a meal and being so nice…” My voice cracked. “Reminds me of times with our own parents.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sure you miss them terribly. That’s why we need to get a good home-cooked meal in you three and spend some quality time getting to know one another. How does that sound?” Her tone was straightforward yet still hopeful.

I cleared my throat and decided once again to be honest. “That sounds lovely, but I don’t want Mary getting too attached.” I was afraid to tell her the rest. That eventually, when Trent kicked my family and me to the curb for a newer, hotter, younger model with no baggage, we’d be left missing him
and
his family. I was already in too deep with Trent. So far that when he went his own way, I’d be crushed.

Joan narrowed her eyes. “Now why wouldn’t you want Mary to get attached to me, dear?” She frowned in that disapproving way moms did.

Maybe that was one of the things they in taught Lamaze class. How to make your child feel guilty as sin. Ugh. She was going to make me say it. Pulling at my hair, I thought about how I could best say what needed to be said without making her son out to be a player, even though in the past, that’s what he’d been. I was just waiting for the day that his true nature would come rushing back to the surface. I figured that would happen about the time that he left for spring training in February, if not sooner. He’d go off to play ball, and we’d be left in the lurch. Heartbroken. “Mrs. Fox. I like your son a lot. More than I should. But he’s admitted he’s not the settling down type—”

“In the past.” Her response was firm.

I shook my head. “Right, in the past—”

Again she jumped in. “Not right now.”

That made me pause. “What do you mean, not right now?”

Her steely blue eyes pierced mine as she laid a hand on my bicep. “You’re different. That’s how I know.” Such a simple statement, but it held such weight.

“Sure, I may be different. All women are. But am I enough?” I laced my fingers together. “My life isn’t roses and rainbows. I have two children who need me, count on me to provide for them. Most men would not step up to commit to someone who was already filled to the brim with other commitments.”

Joan shrugged. “All I know, dear, is that you are the first woman he’s brought home to meet his parents in a decade. Let me say that again. In. A. Decade.” She huffed and hooked her elbow with mine. “That, to me, is more than enough. Now, I’ve got pork chops cooked and ready to eat. Do you like pork?”

“Yeah.”

“Then prepare to be wowed.”

She led me back into her beautiful kitchen that smelled wonderful, where my brother was laughing at Trent, and Mary was making art for his mom.

“I already am,” I whispered.

D
ue to a meeting
scheduled with my agent this morning, I arrived at Lotus House early to take Genevieve’s hatha yoga class. As much as I hated to, I had to pass on our private lesson. When I got there, she was chatting animatedly with a tall, muscular man who wasn’t wearing a shirt. He had a pair of loose white pants that I’d seen other yogis wear before. The lack of shirt wasn’t what sent my hackles rising. It was the way he kept touching Genevieve. With
familiarity
. A caress of her arm, holding her hand, and then as if watching something in slow motion, it happened. He leaned forward, all smiles and male bravado, and put his lips on my woman.

What the
fuck
?

I stormed over to Genevieve and this random man who had his lips on
my
girlfriend. When I got to them, they’d stopped kissing and were staring sweetly at one another.

Without thinking, I reacted, shoving the man’s arm and pushing him roughly into the wall. The motion was so forceful, he knocked into one of the giant Sanskrit symbols that hung beyond the platform where the instructor taught, banging it into the plaster with enough force to leave a mark.

“Get your hands off of her!” I roared at the handsy asshole.

“Trent!” Genevieve grabbed at my arm, trying to prevent the automatic swing of my right hook.

If a man traipsed over another man’s territory, it was throat punch first, ask questions later.

“Don’t! Oh my God! What are you doing?” Genevieve pushed past me and leaned down to the man as he grabbed at his jaw.

I’d clocked him good. His lip had a slight tinge of red where it must have split. Good reminder to keep his fucking smackers off another man’s woman.

“Damn that hurt,” the man said, twisting his jaw from side to side.

“Trent! What were you thinking? I’m so sorry, Dash. Oh, my, you’re bleeding.” Genevieve grappled for a couple tissues sitting in the corner near the eye pillows and brought them to his busted lip.

The need to rip this loser to shreds spiraled through my body like an out-of-control cyclone. “I was thinking this joker better keep his hands
and
his lips off my girlfriend,” I grated through clenched teeth. My hand hurt, but I flexed it open and closed, preparing to move quickly if needed.

“Ugh. I’m not your girlfriend!” Genevieve tightened her fists and tended to the Dash fellow.

Crossing my arms, I stared down at the two. “Seriously, gumdrop. You’re not playing that card. We agreed. You and I are dating.”

She sighed. “Dating, yes, but we hadn’t discussed anything official. God!” She blew out a breath and dabbed at his lip. “Dash, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re apologizing to
him
? You should be apologizing to
me
!” I growled and tugged at her bicep.

Genevieve stood and crossed her arms, her beautiful face a mask of barely contained anger. “Dash is my friend, and you just punched him!” Her voice was a sharp bite to the ego. Not even a single hint of apology lay within her words.

Fuck! I didn’t understand what the hell was happening. All I knew was the woman I’d been dating, the one I thought of as mine, had allowed another man to touch and kiss her. In public!

“I’m failing to see the correlation here, babe. I thought we were exclusive.”

She narrowed her eyebrows. “We are.” She sighed. “But that doesn’t give you the right to go all gorilla crazy on any man who gets near me.”

A crowd was starting to circle around us, but I didn’t care. “Who the hell is this jackass?”

“He works here. He teaches the tantric yoga class and was asking me to assist.”

All I heard was the word
tantric.
That shit involved sex of some sort. What kind of sex? I didn’t know, but I’d be consulting Google here directly, and there would be no “assisting” of that class…ever.

“Over my dead body!” I huffed, my anger hitting a height I’d only experienced a few times on the field when the umpire made a bullshit call.

Genevieve scrunched up her little nose and pinched her lips, their normal pink going white. “Not that it’s your decision, but I’d already told him no, that the guy I was seeing would not be pleased with me filling in for that particular class.” She harrumphed loudly and slapped her spandex-covered legs. “What on earth would possess you to hit him?” She rubbed at her forehead.

I glanced at the man. Dash…what kind of stupid ass name was that anyway? He simply waited, looking completely innocent. Total bullshit.

“This man had his hands all over you and kissed you, on the mouth!” An intense heat fired down my spine and settled in my fists. I wanted to sucker-punch the pissant again.

Dash shook his head and put his arm on Genevieve’s bicep…again. “Viv, honey, it’s okay. He was just protecting what he clearly perceives as his. If I had a woman like you to call my own, I might have responded the same way. Trent…I apologize.” The guy looked down and away. “I meant no ill will, nor was I attempting to do anything other than have our girl help me out with my class.”

“Our girl?” My tone was scathing. “You mean
my
girl!” I clenched my teeth and sucked in a harsh breath.

Genevieve groaned. “This is ridiculous. I don’t have time for this male posturing baloney. Apologize to Dash, or we’re through.” She set her hands on her hips.

“I’m not apologizing to him. If anything,
you
owe
me
an apology. I’m not the one that had my lips all over Mr. Yoga here!”

Dash had the good grace to look away, losing eye contact. “I’m sorry, Viv. Trent, I meant no harm, man, I swear.”

“Whatever, man. I’m sure you just
accidentally
kissed her on the mouth.”

“He always kisses his friends on the mouth.” An exasperated breath left Genevieve’s lips. “He’s into touch, connection. He teaches couples the art of Tantra for crying out loud!”

“And that is supposed to give him the right to put his mouth on my woman? Hell, no. Not in this lifetime.”

Genevieve reached behind her and turned the music on. “Just go. Leave. I can’t deal with you right now. I have enough on my plate without adding a jealous lover to the mix.”

Dash, the tantric yoga guru, touched Genevieve on the arm. “Hey, Viv, I’ll teach your class. Don’t worry. Just go talk to him.”

“Best fucking offer I’ve heard all day,” I mumbled.

Genevieve’s gaze shot to mine, seeming more like razor blades than the soulful depths I was used to. Her body jerked, and tears flooded her eyes. “I can’t! I need the money.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dash and I said at the same time.

Dead man. Sometimes, I think people have moments in life where their path becomes crystal clear. My path was to slam my foot in this guy’s ribs…repeatedly.

Dash lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “I’ll teach, and you’ll get the money. It’s the least I can do. I’m sorry for starting something between you and your mate. The kiss…man, I’m sorry.” His gaze cut to mine. “It won’t happen again.”

Dash’s shoulders were drawn in, and he held his hands clasped in front of him in a nonthreatening gesture. Overall, his body language suggested he genuinely wanted to fix things. Maybe it was because I was huge in comparison and could kick his ass, though I tried to believe it was the former.

“Better not.” I nodded.

Genevieve looked around the room. Her lip trembled, and she tipped her chin toward Dash. Grabbing her things, she hustled by me, not even sparing me a glance as she went.

“I guess that’s the end of the show, folks. Carry on with your class. Sorry for the interruption,” I said and followed the dust my girl left in her wake.

T
he last thing
I needed was a male battle over me. In public. At my workplace. I didn’t have the mental capability to deal with this right now. The state was after me. I’d missed the last payment on the property taxes and the second installment was due. If I didn’t pay, I’d have to sell the house or risk the state garnishing my wages. I needed a tax accountant, but I couldn’t afford one. From what I gleaned online, I was in deep with the State of California. On top of that, my last two hair clients canceled, leaving me with a hundred fewer dollars this week, putting me even further behind on the electric bill.

I stopped at the curb. Trent would be hot on my heels. I stared at my dad’s prized possession. It was worth about fifty grand. Selling the car that should rightfully go to Rowan was my only option. Tears filled my eyes as I stared at the one thing my dad loved more than anything besides his family—his Mustang GT. The car was in perfect condition, and I’d already had it appraised. I could easily get a used car to take us to and fro while paying the next two years’ worth of property taxes as well as catching up on the house bills. I’d finally be able to breathe.

Last night, Rowan and I had sat down and discussed it at length. Of course, he wanted the car eventually, but in the end, he wanted to stay in the home we were raised in more. We also wanted to give that to Mary. We’d had our parents for a lot longer than she had. Mary only had a home to cling to, whereas Rowan and I had countless memories to dip into whenever we wanted.

“Genevieve! Hold up. Please.” Trent’s voice was rough, his breath coming in labored pants. A pained groan slipped from his lips as he limped over to where I stood staring at my dad’s car.

“Trent, what you did in there was unacceptable.” My voice sounded foreign and cold, but he’d gone over the line.

He placed his hands on his hips and looked down. “You want me to be sorry that I responded like any man who caught his woman kissing another man?”

I groaned. “You make it sound like I was sucking face with him. He’s a friend. He gave me a friendly peck on the lips. He does that to
all
of us.”

Trent snorted.

“He does. It’s who he is. It’s who he has always been. Maybe instead of overreacting, you could have taken me aside and not made a scene.”

His eyes went stone cold. “I cannot believe you are trying to turn this around on me. You’re kissing Mr. Yoga, and I’m the bad guy? This is ridiculous. And to think I thought you were different.” He shook his head.

I huffed as tears slipped down my face. This was it. The moment I’d been expecting. We’d made it all of six weeks before it went to hell in a handbasket. “You know what, Trent? Believe whatever you want to believe, but I know the truth. Dash is nothing but a friend. A really good one at that. He was talking to me about a very hard situation and comforting me.”

“Oh, yeah? About what?”

I curled my hands into fists. “My dad, okay?”

He pinched his eyebrows together, a crease forming at his brow line. He wanted to know? Well, he was about to get an earful.

“The bills are piling up. I’m behind on all the utilities and the property tax. The state has sent countless threatening letters, informing me that if I don’t pay up, I will lose my parents’ home. The one thing we have left of them.” Tears tracked down my cheeks quickly and wet my tank. I took a ragged breath. “So Rowan and I had to make a tough choice.”

“Which is?” His voice was still growly, like a grumpy old man complaining about the state of the nation.

“I’ve decided to sell my dad’s car.”

Trent’s mouth dropped open, and he rubbed the scruff on his chin. Oh, how I loved that scruff. The way it felt against my lips when we kissed, against my neck, breasts, and between my thighs.

“But you and Rowan love that car.”

“Yeah, well, my brother and sister need a place to lay their heads at night. On top of that, they need hot water, electricity, and a consistent home. Something you’d never understand.”

He jerked his head back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you take for granted everything. Squander your money away on women and flashy cars and bikes, yet you lay your head in an apartment that’s devoid of life. There are a total of two pictures in your home, and you’ve lived there for
years
. What does that say?”

He pursed his lips and scowled. “That I’m on the go. That I don’t have the time to—”

“No! It means you don’t settle down. You’re as rooted here as you are on an airplane. And what’s going to happen when you go back on the road? Let me tell you what I think will happen.”

“Please enlighten me.”

I leaned against Dad’s beloved car and crossed my arms. “You’ll find the next sweet little thing and hop from plane to plane. I’m not stupid, Trent. I know the second you get back in the air you’re going to drop me and my family drama like a hot potato.”

His head jerked back as if he’d been the one punched. He looked down and ran his hand through his hair. “You really think so little of me?”

I shrugged. “Just basing things on what I know of you.”