Page 15 of Fated Mates and How to Seduce Them (Fated Mates #4)

They left out early Saturday morning for the group home, with Casper meowing in protest in the back seat. She did not like being in a carrier. After a few minutes, she gave up and settled down, but the air around her crate promised retribution at a later time.

Ian was a little worried. For himself. Cats could be both underhanded and patient when getting revenge.

At least the drive was pleasant, more so than that last time when Ian had rode with André to raid a mall.

And much more comfortable than riding the bus.

André was good company as they drove, asking Ian all sorts of questions.

What music did he like, and who did he listen to?

Favorite shows? They ended up having quite a few interests in common, which surprised Ian.

André seemed to live in a different world than Ian most of the time, so he hadn’t thought they could have anything in common.

But just like over the last few weeks, he’d been proven quite wrong.

They arrived without fanfare, and Ian was so focused on getting Casper out of the car and situated in the main room that he missed the fact André took longer to unload.

A mistake, in retrospect.

By the time he got the litter box, food and water dishes, and toys out for Casper, André had hauled in three large boxes with suspicious lettering on them. Letters that said “projector” and “speakers.”

He’d said he was going to bring cartoons. André did not say he was bringing a home theater setup to watch said cartoons.

Honestly, this man. Did he ever do anything at less than a hundred and ten percent?

The kids were torn between saying hi to the kitten and playing with her—Casper adored all the attention—and helping André set up. They bounced back and forth between the two. With the teenagers helping André unbox stuff, they managed setting it all up in record time.

André clapped his hands, getting their attention. “All right, we are doing study time, André-style! That means we are watching cartoons and movies all day—”

There was some cheering in response.

“—but the catch is, you have to pay attention to what the actors are saying. So! I’ve got notebooks and pens for everyone.

I realize not all of you are taking French in school yet, but you can participate if you want to.

Never too early to learn a language. Whenever you hear a word you recognize, or even better, figure out the word they’re saying, write it down.

For every word you write down, you get a piece of candy. ”

André shook a bag of taffy with a glint in his eye.

Ian saw more than a few kids lick their lips, gazes fixated on the bag.

“Now, for those who can write a full sentence of what they said, you get more than a piece of candy. You get a full candy bar.” André gestured to the box sitting on the table.

Oh, that upped the ante right there. Ian saw more than a few kids switch targets immediately. They were going to get a candy bar, no question.

“ And ,” André continued, a wicked gleam in his eye, “if you can write three lines of dialogue down from whatever we’re watching, you get the grand prize.”

He leaned over, picked up a white pastry box, and then opened the lid to display the contents.

Those had to be the most beautifully crafted cupcakes Ian had ever seen. They wouldn’t be out of place at a wedding. Where the hell had André even bought those?

Will’s hand shot up. “André, do they have to be big sentences?”

“Nope! Just three sentences. All connected, mind you. So listen hard. And don’t think you can make something up, either.

I know the two series I’ve brought you exceptionally well.

No one knows Gargoyles or Teen Titans better than I do.

All right, are you ready? For those of you who need one, there’s French dictionaries on the table. You can consult them at will.”

People scrambled for positions, grabbing cushions to sit comfortably, notebooks and pens at hand. The competition was on.

Ian sat back and watched the first episode.

He might have been a bit doubtful when André first told him his plan, but damn if it wasn’t working.

Luke, who sucked at French, had a list of seven words down already.

Not exactly spelled correctly, but he was listening intently.

Even the younger kids silently mouthed the strange foreign words, watching the figures move across the screen with delighted interest.

The thirty-minute episode ended, and André hit Pause before the next one could play.

“Pens down! Let me see your lists.”

Ian pitched in, taking a bag of candy around with him, handing out pieces to the kids who had words down, and correcting spelling as he went. Hopefully André had brought another box of candy because the kids were determined to get as much as possible, and they’d already wiped out one of the bags.

André seemed delighted his idea was working—you could tell from his mile-wide grin—and he hit Play on the next episode before plopping himself down and watching right along with the kids.

Apparently Ian was a sucker for a man who was good with children. He watched André interact with kids who were basically Ian’s own little brothers and sisters and felt himself smile helplessly. André had said he would protect what Ian wanted to protect and care for what he cared for.

He was doing a damn fine job of it, too.

He had this. Ian didn’t need to help him. Casper sat curled up in one of the kid’s lap, apparently content with all the attention she was getting. Ian’s energy was better spent elsewhere. He retreated to the kitchen to help Mary with lunch prep.

She greeted him with a smile. “I peeked in. The kids are learning so many words. I don’t look forward to the sugar rush later, though.”

“Yes, that’s the downfall to his method,” Ian agreed dryly. No one could begrudge them the candy, though. They got it so rarely.

He washed his hands at the sink, pulled on an apron, and started washing vegetables. He was an old hand at being a kitchen assistant; he knew what to do without instruction, so they didn’t have to talk much.

“He likes you,” Mary commented without segue.

Ian just about stumbled. “Eh?”

Mary paused and looked at him knowingly. She had the air of mother speaking to their child, emphasized by the touches of grey at her temples the black dye could no longer quite hiding. “André likes you. He practically has hearts in his eyes every time he looks at you.”

Damn, it was that obvious, huh?

“You seem to like him too, but you’re hesitating for some reason?”

As expected of the woman who’d helped raise him, Ian apparently couldn’t keep secrets from her.

With her, at least, he could be frank. “I don’t…know how I feel for him. Not really. I don’t know how to respond to him, either.”

“Honey, if you like him, you like him. There’s nothing complicated about this.”

“Oh, it’s complicated. For one, you don’t know his reputation. If you look up the word playboy, André would be the definition. The people he’s been with are all gorgeous, too, some of them professional models. It makes no sense for him to be interested in me.”

Mary’s hunched back straightened abruptly. “You are good-looking too, Ian.”

“Thanks, Mom .” Ian shook his head, taking the compliment with a grain of salt. Mary was fiercely protective of her kids. “My point is that I’m clearly not his type. I don’t understand why he’s pursuing me. I also don’t see how this could possibly end well.”

She looked away, brows beetling. “Because he’s from a wealthy family?”

“His family isn’t just wealthy. Don’t you know? He’s a vampire, and the son of a well-known vampire society liaison.”

Mary’s head snapped back around so she could stare at him, eyes bulging. “What?”

“You didn’t know? He’s from the Castor family.”

Her look grew into one of disbelief. “The young man sitting in the other room watching cartoons with the kids and feeding them candy? I’d thought his last name familiar, but…”

“It does seem ludicrous, considering how approachable he is, but I’m not mistaken on this. You see why I’m so hesitant to even think of dating him?”

Mary was world-wise enough to not airily assure him everything would be all right. She stopped washing rice for a moment and really considered it.

“Ian. Do you think he’s sincere?”

“I…do? As far as his sincerity goes. I just don’t expect his interest or attention to last much longer. His track record for being in a relationship is nonexistent. Frankly, it’s a miracle he’s paid attention to me for this long.”

Mary studied him carefully. “And how long has he been chasing you?”

“Four weeks, there abouts.”

“Doesn’t that tell you something? He’s breaking his own patterns with you.

Ian, if you aren’t comfortable dating him, then that’s fine.

It’s your choice. But what I see is two men who do like each other and are hesitating.

Either be straightforward with him and say you won’t date him and let him move on, or try dating. Don’t stay in this limbo.”

Ian went back to peeling carrots. Carrots were easier to face just then.

Truthfully, he didn’t know how to answer André.

He suspected Mary was right, that he did like André, as Ian gave André far more leeway than he did anyone else.

But even thinking of dating him made his heart put on the brakes.

He didn’t know how to be in a relationship with a man, let alone one as experienced as André.

Even with women, Ian had scant dating experience, and the unfamiliar territory made him hesitant to try anything.

“Ian?” she prompted.

“I’ll figure it out, one way or another, and answer him properly.”

“Good.”

Ian had taken off work today, the plan being to have dinner with the kids and then go home, but…well, Mother Nature had other plans.

André looked out the window, lips pursed. “The English have a saying—it’s raining cats and dogs. That looks more like tigers and wolves to me.”