Page 31 of Not My Mate

The little grin tugging at Russ's mouth was almost a smirk. "Ma'am." He bowed over her hand —too much, Russ; that's overkill— and introduced himself.

"We work together," I told her firmly, trying to dislodge the idea that I'd brought home a boyfriend. I never had before. Why did she think I'd started now?

She managed to swallow part of her smile without losing any of her politeness, and, recollected to herself, quieted the dogs down till they started to behave again. She was still hopeful, though; I could see it in her eyes. She'd never met anyone I worked with on the team before, and I could see her excitement, the idea that maybe I'd found someone to love me.

Bullshit, of course, but Russ was doing everything in his power to make it seem plausible. He hooked an arm through hers and told her how happy he was to meet the mother of someone he admired so much. He cast me a little triumphant look as he said that, and it was all I could do not to spitfuck youback at him. I curled my hands into fists.Oh, it isonnow, buddy.

She was charmed by him, annoyingly so, because he was never charming. That wasn't in his wheelhouse. Except today, apparently. We all headed to the kitchen and sat down with Rosa, and they started talking to him, not me. I ate and drank quietly, observing, feeling outclassed and outmaneuvered. This wasn't going the way I'd expected it to.

I was supposed to be the center of attention. Russ was supposed to be stammering and nervous and feeling foolish. Instead, he was making them laugh and telling them a sanitized version of the time we'd rescued some people from a cult where they'd been held against their will. The real situation hadn't been fun and games; it had been dangerous, they'd been scared out their wits and hesitant to come away with us but afraid of what would happen if they didn't. Kim had threatened them in the end, and that had worked; one of them had been tracking silent tears all the way during the escape. She'd learned to cry silently, because it wasn't safe not to. She was only little, too.

I could never look back on that and laugh, but somehow, Russ had found part of the story that sounded amusing and sweet ("and he picked her up and carried her the rest of the way on his shoulders"), something to be remembered and cherished. I remembered confusing slashes of danger, the odd smell of the compound, fear and sweat and the way the child in my arms had gotten heavier and heavier. (She hadn't been on my shoulders; he was remembering that wrong, or lying; that wouldn't have been safe for her.)

Rosa and Mom were so taken with Russ that, after I finished my snack, I got up quietly and left the room — and none of them noticed. I headed out to the garage.

Damn Russell, anyway. My plan for revenge was falling far short.

But that was always me, wasn't it? A day late, a dollar short, the guy everybody forgot about.

It didn't matter. Nothing did. I looked at the cars and sulked.

#

The purr of Dad's Miata pulled me out of a stupor. It came up the drive and stopped. I'd taken off my suit jacket, folded it up, and then lost myself in looking over the cars and their engines. Everything was running well, of course. I didn't get greasy, but I'd still disappeared into the sweet pleasure of engines and cars.

I looked up in time to see Dad hop out of his car, joy written all over his face, and start towards me, arms open. "Son! You're home!"

It sounded like he thought I was staying forever. In that one moment, I wanted to. We hugged, and I leaned against him, feeling warm and substantial and grounded. "We've missed you," he said, ruffling up the back of my hair. I smiled and pulled away. "Do you want to go car shopping this weekend?"

I shook my head. "I'm not staying, just visiting."

A little of his smile died. "We still could, if you want. Do you need anything? Are you—" He paused, looking into my eyes, weighing something. "Nobody's hurt you, have they?"

"No," I lied.

He relaxed a little, but his smile wasn't as bright as before. "Is there anything you want to tell me?" He put his arm around my shoulders as we started walking slowly towards the house.

I shook my head and leaned against him. It was good to be back. It was good to be here.

As we got near the kitchen, the sound of laughter reached us. I scowled.

"Who's—" Dad began, looking puzzled.

"Someone I work with. I brought a visitor."

"A friend? You brought a friend?" Dad was excited again.

"No, he's just—" I gulped. "He works with me." I sounded defensive and pathetic, like I might start getting upset at any moment.

Dad gave me a teasing smile. "So, I shouldn't ask him when he's going to pop the question, right?"

"Dad!" Of course, in a way, he alreadyhadpopped the question. But, ew. No.

"Why don't you introduce me?" He hugged me against his side and was so reassuring for the moment that I was convinced there was no way he'd fall for Russ's lying charms the way Mom and Rosa were doing.

"Okay." We went in. "Dad, this is Russell. Russ, this is my dad. Is it time to eat yet? I'm hungry."

Rosa hopped up, looking shocked by the time. "Of course! Everything is nearly ready. Oh, dear."