Chapter Sixteen

“Parker, darling,” his mother called, waving from the table.

Parker nodded to the maître d’ who escorted him to where his mother sat. They tried to meet for weekly lunch. Lately her schedule had been a bit more occupied by her fiancé. Parker told his mother he didn’t mind extending the offer of lunch to Thomas—spending more time with the man might give him a better read on the guy—but Thomas hadn’t been able to attend today’s lunch. Which was probably a good thing considering he wanted to talk to his mother about this whole wedding thing anyway.

“Hello, Mother.” He bent down to place a kiss on her cheek before taking the seat across from her.

“Coffee?” She motioned to the silver decanter on the table.

“Yes, please.”

He needed about a gallon and a half today. It was a good thing he was used to running on little to no sleep because he only caught a few hours before his alarm blared, reminding him of meeting his mother. A secret smile curled his lips as he remembered why he’d stayed up until the pre-dawn hours and with who.

Tamsen.

Just thinking her name had all kinds of memories flooding his brain. Delicious, wild memories that he should probably stop thinking about while with his mom.

He smiled at his mother, noting that there wasn’t a menu on the table. Not a surprise, since most of the staff knew they didn’t need one. He and his mother had been meeting at Café Altier for lunch for five years now, ever since his mother helped the owner with the start-up money she needed to open. Jeanne Alterier, owner and head chef, always cooked up something special every time they dined.

“How is work going, dear?” His mother took a dainty sip from her cup. “Staying safe?”

He smiled, answering the question she always asked him. “As safe as I can.”

“I know, I know.” She waved a hand in the air. “And I’m very proud of you for choosing a career that’s so selfless, but I’m your mother. I’d be worried if you were sitting at a desk all day. It’s just what parents do.”

He would die of boredom if he had to work a nine-to-five office gig. He loved the thrill of rushing head-first into danger, the high from saving someone. He supposed that wasn’t a very selfless motive. Of course, the lows of his job were worse than others. The people he couldn’t save still haunted him some nights.

He didn’t consider himself a hero, but his mother probably would have called him that even if he was working as an accountant. She’d always been so supportive and proud of him. Like the time in third grade when he won the spelling bee. She acted like he solved world hunger when he’d really just given the proper spelling for hatchling.

“How’d the event go last night?” he asked his mother. “Did you receive enough donations?”

He had been invited to another one of his mother’s charity events last night. He gladly sent money their way, but he hated going to those stuffy parties. He always felt out of place. Yes, he had his own money, but he wasn’t some big CEO or investor. He never had anything to talk about with the people at those parties. It wasn’t like he could hang out with his mom all night.

“It was successful. We reached our goal with an extra five thousand on top. I do wish you could have come, dear. Margaret Burns was there.”

He barely held back a sneer. Now he was doubly glad he didn’t go. His mother had been trying to pair him up with every single daughter of her socialite friends for years now. Some of them were okay, but Margaret Burns was a blue-blooded bully who looked down her nose at anyone she felt was beneath her. And according to Margaret, that meant everyone. She played the sweet face to his mother, but he’d seen the way she treated the service workers at events.

Rule of thumb: never date anyone who was a jerk to servers.

It wasn’t like Margaret was interested in him anyway. He’d heard the whispers about what she thought of his chosen profession. Not that he gave a rat’s ass. He much preferred the company of the woman he spent last night with to anyone who would have been at the charity event.

“I hear you’ve been spending time with Tamsen?”

He choked on the sip of coffee he’d just drank. Had he said that out loud? Did someone see them and report back to her? Were last night’s activities written all over his face? He glanced down at his hand and arms to see if he’d missed any paint. Nope. Not a sexy paint swipe in sight.

“Parker, dear. Are you all right?”

Clearing his throat, he set his coffee down and smiled. “Fine, Mother. Sorry, just a small tickle in my throat, I suppose.”

She had her worried mom face on, but thankfully she let it go.

“How is Tamsen?”

Or not.

“Why would I know?” Evasion, good move, that didn’t seem suspicious at all.

“Aren’t you two planning our shower together? I assumed you’d been in contact with her recently.”

Oh right, that. Of course his mom was talking about party planning and not…the other thing he was doing with Tamsen.

“It’s going well. She suggested we use the art gallery she interns at for the party. I saw it last night.” Among other things. “Looks like a great venue.”

His mother smiled. “An art gallery? That does sound lovely. According to Thomas, Tamsen is a very talented artist herself.”

She was. Tamsen not only had skill, but she also managed to infuse emotion into her art. He hadn’t just looked at her drawing and paintings when he snuck a peek of them in her room, he’d felt them. He had no idea how to describe it, but something in his chest resonated as he stared at the dark lines, the bright colors on the canvas. She had a gift, for sure.

He also appreciated her more…experimental art projects.

“Have you seen any of her artwork?”

Seen it, been it, done it.

“I have. She’s amazing.” At his mother’s arched brow, he corrected himself. “Her artwork. She’s an amazing artist.”

“The creative arts are so important. Art and music nourish the soul. Even if only as a hobby.”

Oh no. He knew where his mother was going with this. She could hint around it, get Tamsen to ask for her, but none of it would work. He was not picking his music back up.

Ever.

He was saved from further discussion by the server arriving with their food. Sweet smells of berry and sugar wafted up from the delicious-looking crêpe on his plate. Red slices of strawberry filled the thin pastry, spilling out the sides. A dollop of fresh cream lay on top with an artful drizzle of chocolate sauce. He dug in, lifting a forkful to his mouth and closing his eyes as flavor exploded on his tongue.

“Mmmm,” his mother made an appreciative sound as she took her own bite. “Jeanne makes the most divine dishes.”

He agreed.

“I wonder if we can hire her to cater the shower?”

“I can talk to Tamsen about it.” He still thought this party was ridiculous, but if his mother wanted Jeanne’s delicious food there, he was all in for that plan.

“I’m so pleased to hear you two are getting along.”

More than she knew.

“Thomas and I did so hope you children would become friends.”

“We’re adults, Mother. Not children.”

And he wouldn’t necessarily call them friends. Friends with benefits maybe. But his mother didn’t need to know that and neither did Tamsen’s father.

“Well, we’re just happy to see you both taking to each other so well. Not that I was too worried. With as wonderful as Thomas is, I knew his daughter would be something special, too.”

More than she knew. But Parker didn’t want to think about him and Tamsen right now. Since she brought up the subject of Thomas, he had more pressing questions.

“Mother, are you sure…” He trailed off, uncertain how to word his question without upsetting her. No one was allowed to hurt his mother, not even him.

“Am I sure of what, darling?”

He waited until she’d taken a bite of her meal to pose his question. Carefully forming it to show his concern.

“Are you sure you’re not rushing into this marriage? I mean, how well do you really know this guy? Six months isn’t really that long of a time. What if he’s just trying to…” At her stern look, he amended the accusation he was about to volley. “I just don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Placing her fork on the table, his mother reached across to place her hand over his. A warm and loving smile lit her eyes.

“My dear boy, I know how hard it was when your father left and that my taste in men over the years may not have always turned out for the best.”

There was the understatement of the century.

“I know you worry, Parker, but you don’t have to. That’s my job. I’m the parent.”

Didn’t mean he couldn’t worry about her. Family worried. It’s what you did for the ones you loved whether they raised you or you raised them. He couldn’t help it.

“I just think that maybe you should find out a little more about Thomas. Dig into his past a bit. See if he’s keeping anything from you.” A task he was already doing, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. He was only going to reveal his investigation if the PI turned up something dirty.

“Parker Vincent Kincaid.”

Uh oh. He got the full name. Every kid, no matter how old they were, knew when their mother used all their names, it wasn’t a good sign.

She sat back in her seat, hands folded together and placed primly on the table. Yup. Full-on lecture mode.

“I am not going to spy on my fiancé. Thomas loves me and I love him. Yes, we may not have known each other long, but when you get to be our age, you don’t need time. Or have a lot time to spare fluttering about with longwinded courtships.”

“Don’t say that.” Now it was his turn to grasp her hand. “You’re going to be around for a long time.”

She was barely in her sixties. Sixty was the new forty. She had another thirty years easy.

“No one knows how much time they have left on this earth. That’s why when we find something as special as what Thomas and I have, you have to grab hold of it with both hands and dive in. Sometimes you just have to trust people, darling. I know you’re the suspicious sort, but I promise if you just give people a chance, they might surprise you.”

Yeah, that wasn’t his strong suit—a complaint lobbed at him by every former girlfriend. That and his inability to share his feelings. Whatever the hell that meant. He shared. Smiled when he was happy, frowned when he was upset. What more did they want?

“I get that,” he said, “but I just don’t want you to be distracted by your emotions again.”

She frowned, mouth dropping open slightly. “Parker.”

He reached over to take her hand, worried he’d upset her, but refusing to drop this so easily. Not when she could get hurt again. “I’m sorry, Mother, but remember Charles and Magnus—”

“Parker Kincaid, that is enough.” Her voice was hushed but firm as iron.

He ducked his head, guilt sinking like a stone in his stomach. “I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

His mother pulled her hand back, picking up her coffee and taking a small sip before arching one eyebrow at him. He knew it wasn’t kind to bring up the former men in her life who’d hurt her, but it killed him to think it might be happening again. He only wanted to protect her like she’d always done for him.

They both let the matter drop, chatting instead about how various family members were doing, his mother’s charities, his work. She told him about her and Thomas’ plan to pick out a new home together. His mother was a bit of a real-estate addict, moving homes every five years or so, so the news didn’t surprise him. But was Thomas seeking out a new fancy home by marrying his mother?

When they finished lunch, Parker knew he should go home and rest, but he found himself driving through the streets of Denver and parking right in front of 5280 Eats.

He found a spot in the small, crowded lot and headed inside. He had to; if he didn’t, they’d tow his car. That was the logic he was going with. Sure, he’d just eaten lunch and Tamsen probably wasn’t even working. So why was he here?

An excellent question. One he really didn’t have an answer to. But he needed one. And quick. As soon as he stepped through the front door, he bumped right into a soft, familiar body.

“Parker!” Tamsen’s wide eyes looked up at him. “What are you doing here?”

He enjoyed one gentle stroke of his thumbs along the soft smoothness of her upper arms as he steadied her before dropping his hands and stepping back.

“I was having lunch with my mom and she had some ideas for the catering. For the party. So I thought I’d swing by to see if you were free for a chat.”

A smile spread across her face. “Really? You just thought you’d pop by? Even though there’s this newfangled thing called texting?”

Busted.

Leaning down close, he whispered in her ear, “Okay, maybe I just wanted to make sure you…didn’t miss any paint.”

She shivered, a soft sigh of warm breath hitting his cheek.

“And you thought you could inspect for this missed paint while I’m working?”

He laughed softly. “Actually, I didn’t even think you’d be here.” But he’d hoped. “I thought you had the dinner shift?”

She shrugged. “Came in early. One of the servers called in sick, and since I’m trying to nab this manager position, I’m on call for all no shows.”

“That’s rough.”

“Such is the life of the service industry.”

“Since you came in early, do you get to leave early?”

She nodded. “Yeah, luckily I found someone to come in tonight, so I don’t have to work a double.”

“What time do you get off?”

She bit her lips, speaking low so only he could hear. “About half an hour after you pick me up from the end of my shift.”

“Good answer,” he growled.

He wanted to pull her close and sate himself on those delicious lips he was already missing, but they were in public.

“I get off at six.”

“Sounds good.”

His phone chimed. Pulling it from his pocket, he read the notification. A new message from his PI.

“Something wrong?” Tamsen asked.

He glanced up, not realizing he was frowning until she reached out and smoothed the wrinkle lines in his forehead with her fingers. Pasting on a smile, he shook his head.

“Nope. I’ll see you at six?”

He could tell by her worried expression she didn’t believe him, but she let it go with a nod.

“Tamsen, just sat you a table!” a voice from the hostess stand called.

“Oh, gotta go. Bye!”

She rushed off, leaving Parker there, his phone feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds in his grip. What was this heavy, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach? He told himself this thing with Tamsen had nothing to do with his investigation of her father. So why did he feel a little sick keeping it from her?

Maybe the email had good news. And since when was he hoping for good news? It wasn’t like he wanted his mother’s heart broken. Again. But he’d hired the PI because he didn’t trust Thomas. When had he suddenly started wishing that he could?

He glanced across the restaurant to the charming woman who gave her customers a bright, engaging smile even though he knew she had to be as exhausted as him. And it hit him.

It was her. Tamsen. She made him do something he hadn’t done in a long time…hope.