His dimple deepened, “I didn’t say bossy was a bad thing.” He lowered his lips another fraction toward mine. “It’s pretty fucking hot.”

Holy shit. Con’s going to kiss me. Sober. My eyes drifted closed.

A jingle of metal and the sound of wood slapping against wood caused us both to jerk backward, and I smacked my head against the wall.

I cringed, and Con swore. “Shit! Are you okay?”

Eyes firmly shut this time, I nodded. “I’m fine. Hard head.”

A quiet chuckle washed over me, and Con’s hand cradled the back of my head once more, massaging the bump. “Not surprising that you’ve got a hard head.”

“You gonna kiss that girl, Constantine? ‘Cuz if you ain’t, you better get yourself to the table. My barbeque don’t wait for no man. No woman, neither.” My eyes darted toward the voice. A stout woman in a red ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron stood with her arms crossed. Her dark gaze didn’t miss a thing.

Con glanced her way. “Give us a second, Mama Vee.”

“Mmmhmmm. And a second’ll be all you’re gettin’, boy, if you plannin’ on eatin’.” She retreated back inside the fence line.

“Who is…Mama Vee?” I whispered.

“That was Mama Vee. She’s Jojo’s gran—he’s one of my boys. She invites me, and I come.” He stepped back. “This eating thing…I get that it’s a big deal for you. But I have to ask—are you going to be able to sit at her table and not insult her? Because if you can’t eat in front of her, she’s going to take it personally.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but shut it again. I didn’t know what to say to that.

“The only greens on that table are going to be drowned in butter.”

Shit.

Rock, meet hard place. Also known as my insecurities versus my Southern manners. In my circles, it wasn’t hard to eat only socially acceptable foods if I absolutely had to eat in public. Salads were on the menu at every event, restaurant, and dinner party. Mama Vee’s menu…not so much. But Con hadn’t made me feel self-conscious when I’d explained; he’d just listened and accepted what I’d said. It seemed that he wasn’t going to judge me. I straightened. I could do this.

“I won’t insult her.”

Con reached down and grabbed my hand. “Thank you. Now come on, before she throws us out for being late.”

I hadn’t known what to expect when I’d brought Vanessa to Mama Vee’s. I wouldn’t lie and say it hadn’t been a test. Because it had been. But by the end of lunch, I wasn’t sure who was being tested.

Vanessa hadn’t insulted Mama Vee. Not in the least. She’d been gracious. Charming. Engaging. There was no doubt that Vanessa would have an open invitation to return—with or without me.

Vanessa had opted for the rotisserie chicken, and the smear of BBQ sauce across her cheek reminded me of the strawberry jam I’d wanted to lick off her face in the kitchen of the gym.

And while I didn’t pretend to completely understand her hang up with food, at least I had some sort of explanation for her behavior.

It was startling to learn that Vanessa’s life hadn’t always been as easy as I’d assumed. It was even harder to believe the perfect princess hadn’t always been quite so perfect. I wondered how I’d never known. Probably because I’d kept to myself in school and had paid no mind to gossip of any kind.

Then Mama Vee surprised us both.

“Your mama would have loved seeing you all grown up like this,” she said as I collected the plates and shoved them in the trashcan, and Vanessa gathered the condiments on a tray.

My attention fixed on Vanessa, who was flicking the edge of the ketchup label with her fingernail. Her eyes came up and met Mama Vee’s.

“You knew my mother?”

Mama Vee nodded. “Before I had my own catering business, I spent a lot of years prepping in kitchens for other people. Your mama was a very particular woman.”

Vanessa blinked and reached for the salt and pepper. “Yes, particular was a good word for her.”

Mama Vee wiped her hands off on her apron and laid one over Vanessa’s. “That little girl you were? She was a beautiful child. And the woman you are now? Is a credit to you. Not even your mama could find fault with that.”

Vanessa squeezed her eyes shut, and I was afraid that tears would start spilling. Crying women were not something I knew how to deal with effectively. Man down and bleeding from shrapnel? That I could handle. Flying bullets and incoming mortar rounds? Bring ‘em on. But a crying woman? Not so much.

But Vanessa didn’t let the tears fall. She straightened her shoulders and looked Mama Vee in the eye. “Thank you.”

“You look like you need a hug, child,” Mama Vee whispered in her gravelly smoker’s voice.

I figured Vanessa would just shrug it off, but she did something that surprised me even more than Mama Vee bringing up Vanessa’s mother: she rounded the table and wrapped her arms around Mama Vee’s neck.

Mama Vee hugged her right back, and I just stood and watched. Amazed.

It seemed that I’d judged Vanessa wrongly when I’d decided to label her a stuck up bitch without a heart. Because she very much had a heart, and I didn’t know many stuck up bitches who would lower themselves to hug a woman clearly their social inferior. But I was seeing it.

I owed her an apology.

That feeling didn’t last long.

I helped Vanessa off the bike in the small garage tucked behind Voodoo. I felt like I was looking at a completely different person than the one I’d helped climb on only an hour and a half ago. Taking her to Mama Vee’s had peeled away a few layers and revealed things I hadn’t expected. Vanessa Frost was more than met the eye. I wanted to keep peeling back those layers.

And her clothes.

I retrieved her purse from the saddlebag, and we stood beside her car in the alley. I wasn’t ready to let her go back to her world quite yet. I liked having her in mine. A little too much. “You busy tomorrow night? I’ve got appointments until late, but I want to take you somewhere.”

“I’d have to check my calendar. It’s gotten really busy with everything going on these days.”

I gritted my teeth. “Blowing me off already? I wouldn’t recommend it.” My words carried an edge I didn’t even try to hide.