Rest in Pieces (25 page)

I looked from him to Daman and back again. “Where?”

Max heaved an oh–my–God–adults–are–stupid sigh and said, “To Daman’s house to swim and have dinner on Saturday.”

Two handsome men were setting a trap for me. Like there was any way out of it.

“Sure.” I couldn’t think of anything else we had planned for Saturday. Wait a minute. Hadn’t Daman said that he was going out of town? “When do you leave?”

“I’m on my way now. I just wanted to give you that lipstick before I left. My pilot is gassing up the plane as we speak.” He sucked in his bottom lip and held my gaze. I could see in his eyes that he had more to tell me.

“I guess we can finish our discussion on Saturday.” As much as I hated David, I didn’t want to hear that he was dead. Even after everything, Max idolized his father. Kids don’t always know the truths about their parents; most of the time they just love them no matter what. It’s both sad and sweet.

Daman straightened. “Max, do you mind if I kiss your mother goodbye?”

Max scowled up at Daman. “I guess not. I’m going back to the car.”

My little boy shot me a parting questioning look, turned around and walked back to Bessie.

“Saturday, I’ll show you everything I have on David since the day he left.” He tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. “In case someone is watching, I’m going to kiss you so that it makes sense that we’d be standing out here talking…flirting.”

He took the lipstick from me, turned the jammer off and placed it back in my palm. Gently, he stroked my cheek and leaned into me. His lips were soft on mine, like he was tasting something new and delicious. His hand slid into my hair as his tongue parted my lips and dipped inside my mouth. Heat pooled in places that I’d almost forgotten I had. My hands went to the front of his soccer jersey and fisted, pulling him closer to me. The weight of his body pressed against me, sandwiching me between him and the trunk. His knee worked its way between my legs and I moaned. At least I think it was me—I’m like eighty percent sure the moaning was me.

Daman dropped his hands and stepped back. He looked as dazed as I felt.

“Well, then…” I clasped my hands behind my back to keep from pulling him into me again. I’d practically climbed up him like a beginner on open pole night. Here he was kissing me to keep up appearances, and I’d groped him. I’m fairly certain that my hands had slid down his back and squeezed his butt. For the record, his ass was hall–of–fame fantastic.

“I have to go.” There was something I was supposed to do tonight but I couldn’t remember what it was. “I need to go home because…I live there and Max lives there. We live there together.” Oh my God, I was babbling. I shook my head. “I’m not sure why I said that…okay…um…bye.”

I waved inanely and did an about–face, banging my hip on the side of the car. Pain shot out from my hip, radiating down my leg.

Daman grabbed my arm to steady me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I patted his hand and then stepped out of his grasp. Could this be anymore embarrassing? I limped toward Bessie.

“I’ll see you on Saturday at two.” He called after me. “Remember, you can’t trust anyone.”

The only people I trusted were me, Haley and Monica. Everyone else, including Daman, had ulterior motives. At least now I was fairly certain that he wasn’t the one who had bugged my house.

I waved without turning around and limped all the way to Bessie, opened the door, and climbed in.

My life had just gotten way more complicated.

Chapter 21

Was I supposed to volunteer the fact that I’d kissed another man not thirty minutes ago? Technically I’d kissed Ben and then Daman. I hadn’t told Daman about Ben so that part was fair—I think—and I wasn’t about to mention to Ben that I’d kissed Daman again. Fair is fair.

I wiped my mouth with a paper napkin that Ben had unloaded onto my kitchen table along with three bags of Chinese food. True to his word, he’d brought mountains of fried rice and extra egg rolls along with broccoli and beef, Max’s favorite, General Tso’s chicken, my favorite, and a whole bunch of other stuff that I didn’t recognize because Max and I always ordered the same thing. When you’re on a budget, it’s risky to stray from what you know unless you have a coupon for something specific like, say, moo shu pork. Only because I don’t like moo shu pork, I would have thrown that coupon into the trash right next to the one for off–brand sandwich cookies. Even on a budget, real Oreos and Charmin toilet paper are necessities.

“Your mom’s awful quiet, Max. What do you think’s on her mind?” Ben elbowed Max playfully.

Don’t mention Daman. Don’t mention Daman. I shot Max my best mom glare.

“Probably the fried rice. She loves it. Once she tried to make it and Dad and I both got sick. Mom didn’t eat any so she was fine.” Max grinned. He was keeping quiet about Daman, but I could tell that it was going to cost me.

Both boys looked at me.

I shrugged. “I don’t care what that emergency room doctor said, y’all both had a touch of the stomach flu.”

Rule number one and, well, the only rule—when you’re a bad cook, never eat the food you prepare. I shoveled in more fried rice that I hadn’t made. I loved the stuff.

“Am I safe in assuming that cooking isn’t one of your…um…talents?” Ben was trying to be nice.

“Nope, I’m willing to admit that my cooking is terrible, that’s why I don’t do it anymore. Some people were meant to cook and others were meant to order take–out. It’s the way of the world.” I bit into a crunchy eggroll. Cabbage, shrimp, and whatever else they put in there rolled around my tongue. Yum.

“Besides the fried rice, what was her worst dish?” Ben was having way too much fun with this.

I tried to make myself smile, but the numerous events of today weighed heavy on me. Not only had I found that Molly was probably blackening money, but Daman was DEA and he thought my ex–husband was probably dead. I wasn’t going to let my mind jump to any conclusions; I’d mull that one over when I had more facts. The hardest part was that I couldn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t reveal anything Daman had told me to Haley and Monica. As my best friends, I counted on them for advice and support. I’m a woman, we don’t carry burdens alone, that’s what friends are for.

I glanced at Ben. How did men carry burdens? I was pretty sure they didn’t confide in each other, and I was also sure that they didn’t stew over things either. Did they hide troubling issues in that ninety–percent of the brain that humans don’t use? If so, how could they ever find them again? Let’s face it, if men can’t find the milk in the refrigerator when it’s three inches from their nose, how could they recall important things they’d filed away?

Or maybe everything is equally important to them. So finding their car keys is right up there with finding out who murdered their best buddy. I had noticed that the men in my life didn’t seem to have a sense of urgency about anything. They certainly didn’t think unloading the dishwasher or taking out the trash was all that important.

“Next to the fried rice, I’d have to say it was the lemon chicken.” Max made gagging noises. “It had chocolate in it.”

“I can’t help that the pages of my cookbook stuck together. How was I supposed to know that it wasn’t a lemon chicken chocolate soufflé? It sounded exotic.” In my defense, my monster–in–law was coming over for dinner. I thought it would be nice to make something that sounded as crazy as she is. Besides, she gave me that cookbook as a wedding gift. I burned it along with all of David’s stuff that I couldn’t sell on Craigslist or at the garage sale.

Maybe I shouldn’t have burned David’s things? No, burning them was the right thing to do. Just because David wasn’t on Grand Cayman didn’t mean that he’d suddenly turned into a nice guy. He’d still cheated on me with just about every woman in Lakeside between the ages of eighteen and sixty. Except for Haley and Monica; they just might hate David more than I do.

“That sounds terrible.” Ben’s nose screwed up.

“It was nasty.” I’m the first one to admit my faults. “That’s when I decided to hang up my apron and pick up the phone.”

“Lucky for you, I know how to cook.” Ben wiped is mouth and leaned back in his chair. “Give me a grill, and I can make you just about anything.”

I didn’t want to look a gift–griller in the mouth, but it sounded like he only cooked low carb. I shoved in another forkful of fried rice. I don’t think you can make rice on a grill. Then again, I can’t make rice on a stove, so what do I know?

“Hamburgers would be nice.” Max nodded. “You know the kind that someone doesn’t hand us through the window of our car.”

“Traitor. Now Ben’s going to think I’m a bad mother because I only feed you fast food.” For the record, that’s not true. Sometimes we eat at Chili’s, and their food is anything but fast.

“I don’t judge.” Ben winked at me. Under the table, he patted my knee.

I flinched, not because the pat was unwanted, but it had been a while since anyone had patted my knee.

Ben’s gaze went to mine. I smiled and mouthed, “Sorry.”

I turned to Max to find him looking at me. I could tell that something was on his mind, but it didn’t look like he was ready to spill it. Probably about Daman and me. He liked Ben, but D–Rod was tough to beat.

“What’s the homework situation?” I stood, gathered the empty paper plates, and threw them in the trashcan under the sink.

“One sheet of math.” Max stood also, grabbed the trash I’d missed and took it to the trashcan. “I’ll go get started.”

Max headed toward his room.

He was such a good kid.

I gathered up all of the empty food containers and tossed them. As for the ones with food still in them, I closed them up and stored them in the refrigerator.

“Feel free to take these home, I’ll just put them in the refrigerator for now.” I didn’t want to seem like I was keeping all of his leftovers. There were still seven containers of things that I couldn’t identify.

“I don’t do leftovers. Keep them.” Ben reached out and took my hand. He pulled me close to him. Since he was still sitting and I was standing, this put him at eye level with my breasts. To his credit, he only glanced at them before looking up at my face.

“I know I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I’ve spent a fair amount of time daydreaming about spending more time with you on your sofa.” He kissed the back of my hand. “Just the two of us.”

I plastered on a wide fake grin. It was nice to be wanted, but I had a lot on my mind. Maybe he was just the thing to take my mind off of my troubles. I’d found that sometimes when I put the problem I was trying to puzzle out on the back burner of my mind, the answer would come to me.

Maybe that’s what men did with problems they needed to solve too? They back–burnered them—only I was pretty sure they forgot to turn the burner off and their ideas caught fire and burned up some brain cells.

Bitch alert, was I being overly bitchy?

“I think that can be arranged.” Okay, so I felt a little guilty about the dating two guys thing, but I was doing this for me and all of womankind who’d ever been two–timed by an asshole. Only in this scenario, I was the asshole.

I could live with that.

Ben scooted his chair back, stood, and stretched. His white knit polo shirt pulled free of his jeans and a three–inch swath of washboard abs peeked out. Nice…really nice.

He caught me looking and stretched even farther so more of his shirt rode up. “See anything you like?”

“Maybe.” My gaze lingered on the peaks and valleys of his abs and then finally made it all the way to his face. He must work out a lot… a whole lot.

He slid an arm around my shoulders and we headed to the sofa. He stopped short and I ran into him.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice that before,” he pointed in the general direction of my TV.

“What?” I scanned the area for something out of the ordinary, but it looked like my old TV. Was there a hidden camera or something that he’d noticed? I stepped out of his arm, and walked in the direction he’d pointed, to see if I could find it.

Ben tugged my arm playfully and pulled me back against him. “I was talking about your TV. I haven’t seen a tube TV since I was a kid.”

“I’m into antiques.” And by antiques, I mean hand–me–downs. I’d had to sell our good flat–screen TV to cover my first and last month’s rent here.

“It has to be desirable to be an antique. That’s junk.” He squinted to get a better look. “Wow, it still has buttons on the front you use to turn it on and off.”

“I’ve got news for you. Those buttons also change the channels. This was my parents’ old TV and the remote has long since been lost.” I had nothing to be embarrassed about. This is what I can afford. “Know the best thing about renting from your aunt? She loves her some TV. So we get cable and all of the movie channels.”

He probably got all of the movie channels too, only he had to pay for them. So there. My TV may be crappy, but free movie channels were awesome.

“She likes you.” He sat on the sofa and pulled me down next to him. “She called me the other day to tell me to marry you so we could give her some cute great nieces and nephews.”

That was awkward. This was like our second or maybe third date. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her that I’ve begged for your hand in marriage, but that you’re not ready to commit to a family as crazy as mine. My aunt agreed to try and be less crazy but I don’t see that happening.” He slid his arm around me. “You always smell coconutty.”

He sniffed my hair. “Is that shampoo or something?”

“No, it’s Burt’s Bee’s Coconut Foot cream.” Another luxury that I couldn’t afford, but some things made life worth living, and not having dried–out, cracked feet was one of those things.

“I could always tell when you’d been in to visit David because his office always smelled like coconuts.” He kissed the palm of my hand.

Just hearing my ex’s name smothered any good mood that I was trying to convince myself that I felt. Should I ask him about David? It was probably the wrong moment and Daman had said that I shouldn’t trust anyone.

“Once, I smelled my way through the perfumes at Macy’s trying to find the one that smelled like you.” He kissed the inside of my wrist. “Okay, more than once. I like it.” He kissed my forearm.