“Yeah, well, you’d look fucking hot in a hessian bag,” he mumbled, nibbling at my neck, his fingers slipping the top button of my shirt undone. Giggling, I glanced inside the window of the restaurant . . . and right into the eyes of my father.

Shit! Moment ruined.

“Come on, let’s get inside.”

“It’s not too late to pretend you couldn’t make it,” he said, grabbing my hand.

Oh, yes it is.

“Come on,” I said, dragging him inside. “I promise it won’t be that bad.” Now, if only I could convince myself of that. Whose stupid idea was this, anyway?

We walked over where my parents were seated. I held Mace’s hand tightly, anticipating the bloodbath I knew was coming. I’d been vague with my parents when telling them about Mace and his family, and I just knew it was all going to come out tonight. I would not be surprised if the first question that came out of Dad’s mouth was asking for his family tree.

No, I wasn’t joking.

“Mom, Dad, this is Mace.” I smiled and held Mom’s gaze, my eyes begging her to control my father for at least the one night. “Mace, my parents, Derrick and Matilda.”

“Lovely to meet you, Mace.” Mom beamed at him. Was she blushing? I leaned in closer. She was! God, Mom found my boyfriend sexy. Kill me now.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs Drake,” Mace said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. She giggled, her voice a few notes too high as her face went redder. I rolled my eyes and sat down. At least he’d won her over. I doubted Dad was going to fall for the sexy smile and soft kiss, though.

I snorted, the visual image too much.

“Colonel,” Dad said sternly, sticking out his hand. Oh, here we go. Mace shook it, but not before shooting me a look.

Yes, my father was a decorated army officer who had spent years defending the country. At sixty-one, he had only retired the previous year, which had given him even more time to try and interfere with my life.

Once we were all seated, the awkward silence I’d been awaiting drifted over us. Perfect time to bring up my win.

“So, I won my first case,” I offered, trying to lighten the mood. Going into law had been completely my decision, but I knew how proud it made both Mom and Dad. They loved the path I’d chosen, and were always happy to hear about work.

My diversion tactic worked. “Honey, that’s wonderful,” Dad gushed.

Hugs all around. I sighed, exhaling slowly. Maybe this wasn’t going to go so badly after all. But deep down, I knew this distraction was going to be short lived. Sooner or later, the focus would shift back to all the ways my father thought Mace wasn’t good enough for me.

“How’s retirement?” I asked Dad, desperately trying to delay the inevitable.

“Good. I’ve become quite the gardener,” he announced proudly. “I’ve mastered herbs, and I’m moving on to vegetables.”

“That’s great,” I said with way too much enthusiasm. Mace snorted, then attempted to cover it up with a cough. Dad narrowed his eyes, the smile disappearing from his face.

Here we go.

 “So, Mace . . . Short for Mason, I presume?” Dad cocked an eyebrow and stabbed at his entrée of calamari. He shot Mace a look that I recognized well. I’d seen it used before on numerous boyfriends to scare the hell out of them. Usually it worked, too. But Mace didn’t seem fazed . . . yet.

“Nope. Just Mace.”

“Right. Mace. So what do you do?” Dad asked. I swallowed hard and reached for the water, wishing like hell it was something stronger.

“I fix bikes.”

“You fix bikes?” Dad repeated, dumbfounded. Like the idea that someone might actually be paid to fix bikes had never occurred to him. Well, this was Dad—it probably hadn’t.

“Yep.”

Oh God, you gotta give him more than that.

These one-word answers were killing me, and I could tell they were pissing the hell out of Dad. I squeezed Mace’s leg under the table, hoping it conveyed my message clearly.

“I, uh, run my own business,” he finally added. Wow. He even managed a smile and some eye contact.

“Oh? That must be interesting.” Dad couldn’t have sounded more patronizing if he’d tried. Mace’s jaw clenched. I prayed to the gods to put a stop to the disaster I could see coming. “And your family? What line of work are they in?” He reached for a bread roll and began slicing it open. Oh, God. Anything but family . . .

“Mom died when I was two, and Dad’s in jail.”

My father actually dropped his knife, smearing butter all over the sleeve of his Armani suit. Oh, God. I dropped my head in defeat.

“Yeah, you’ve probably heard of him. Ronald Jordan? I’m surprised Leeta didn’t tell you she was dating criminal royalty.”

Dad turned to me, his expression tight as he waited for an explanation. I glanced at Mom for help, but she was busy focusing on her roll as though it were a kidney she was preparing for a transplant.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds—”

“Leet, let me finish. I might as well tell him everything, right? A rival gang member of my dad’s murdered my mother in front of my brother and I. My sister committed suicide last year. My brother is in jail as well. The same jail as Dad, actually. Which makes it really handy for family gatherings.” He pushed his plate away, tossing his napkin on the table in front of him. “Anything else you want to know?” he challenged.

My heart broke for him. He had seen his mother murdered? I mean, I knew she’d been killed, but I’d had no idea he had witnessed it. I couldn’t even imagine how awful that would have been. I’d known she hadn’t been around since he was a kid, and that his dad had raised him and his brother—if you could call that parenting.

Mace was a very private person, especially when it came to his background. Some days he would let me in and I’d see this wonderful, fun guy, and other days, all I could see was the pain that consumed him.

“Leeta, maybe you should calm your friend down,” Dad said, his voice stiff. I rubbed my temples. How could I have possibly thought this would go well?

Calm him down? I was on the verge of storming out on his behalf. I was proud of Mace for remaining so calm.

“Maybe you should stop trying to make him uncomfortable?” I suggested sweetly to Dad.

 “Maybe it’s best if I leave,” Mace interrupted. He dragged his chair back and stood up, his eyes clouded with anger. He turned to me. “Call me when you’re done, yeah?”

Shaking my head, I watched him storm out of the restaurant. I turned back to Dad. I was so angry I was trembling. I stood up and threw my napkin on the table.

“Would it have killed you to be civil?” I said acidly, reaching for my handbag.

“Come on, Leeta. What the hell are you doing with that fool? You can do better. You had better.” And there it was: he was never going to get over me breaking up with Ben.

“You don’t get it, Dad. Ben didn’t make me happy. Mace does. You might not like the package, but if you gave him a chance . . .”

I laughed as Dad scowled at me. Why am I even bothering?

“All you’re doing here is pushing me away,” I warned as I backed away from the table.

Stalking out through the restaurant lobby, I scanned the room for Mace. I spotted him outside, walking to his bike. I raced after him.

“Mace!”

He turned around and waited for me to catch up. “I’m sorry, Leets. But I couldn’t sit there and be judged like that.” He ran his hand through his dark, curly hair, his blue eyes sad.

“I’m sorry. My dad can be an asshole.” I ran my fingers over his ripped chest, with one thing on my mind: making him realize just how important he was to me. “Take me home?”

“Sure,” he sighed. He handed me the spare helmet. “Jump on.”

#

There was nothing quite like soaring through the streets on the back of a bike with your arms curled tightly around a hot, sculpted body. I leaned my face against the back of his jacket, holding him as close to myself as I possibly could without mounting him.