Ice went stiff. “You want me to pretend to be someone I’m not?”

Grace’s heart ached as her hand dropped away. “No. I haven’t asked you to change anything about yourself. You expect me to wait on you like the women at your club, and I don’t mind it, because I like making you happy. I go to the club and stay with you and hang out with your friends, even though one of them humiliated me and none of them want me to be with you, because I don’t fit in, but I do it to make you happy. I wear jeans and tops I usually just wear around the house, but I wear them to make you happy. It would be nice if you did the same for me once to make me happy and keep my mother from spending the next few days asking why I’m with you.”

Ice stared down at her, frowning. “You’re mad at me.”

Grace sighed, aggravated. “Never mind, Ice. I’ll give you a call when my mother leaves.” She put her hand on the doorknob.

Ice put his hand on the nape of her neck, turning her back around to face him. “I can’t come tonight—I have some business to take care of—but I’ll be here tomorrow night. Your mother and I will work it out, like me and the rest of your family will, because I’m sure we all want to make you happy.”

Her head fell against his chest, breathing in his scent.

“Do me a favor and tell her to lay off all the prison references.”

“I’ll try.” That was easier said than done with her outspoken mother.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then, and I better have a chocolate cake waiting for me.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

* * *

The next night, Grace was much wiser and invited CeCe and a date to dinner to lighten the atmosphere. Her mother was getting dressed, and she was putting the last touches on Ice’s cake when she heard his motorcycle pulling into her driveway.

She met him at the door, watching as he got off his bike, taking off his jacket. She bit her lip to keep from smiling widely at his appearance.

While he wasn’t wearing slacks, he had donned a pair of expensive jeans and new boots. His shirt was casual, but at least it wasn’t a T-shirt. He took a comb from his pocket and ran it through his hair, combing it back from his face.

“Happy?” he asked as he walked toward her.

“Ecstatic,” she said, jumping into his arms to plant a kiss on his lips.

They were both smiling and laughing when her mother came into the kitchen. Grace was trying unsuccessfully to keep Ice away from the cake while she finished dinner. Grace’s mother greeted Ice coolly before pouring herself a large glass of wine.

“How are the ribs?” her mother asked, sniffing the air appreciably.

“Almost done,” Grace said, peeling away the foil. “The barbeque sauce is ready and so are the vegetables.” She put the ribs back into the oven to stay warm, taking the corn muffins out and placing them on the counter to cool.

Ice’s hand immediately went to them.

“Don’t you dare,” Grace scolded, smacking his hand. “You’ll eat them all before we even sit down for dinner.”

Her mother watched for Ice’s reaction.

“You could always make another batch,” Ice suggested, snagging her around the waist to pull her to him, kissing her lightly on the cheek while his hand went behind her back to snag a muffin.

“Fuck.” He pulled his hand back sharply, staring at her mother who had smacked his hand like a five year old.

“She wants you to wait, and you need to watch your language around my daughter.”

Grace didn’t know whether to laugh at Ice or scold her mother, and the doorbell ringing saved her from making the decision. She exited the kitchen, leaving the two combatants alone.

When she opened her door, she almost closed it again. Her spirits dropped. Tonight was going worse than last night.

“Aren’t you going to ask us inside?” CeCe said with a raised brow.

Grace almost told her no yet opened the door wider for CeCe and her date to enter.

“Good evening, Grace.”

“Talbert.”

Talbert Jones helped CeCe out of her coat, looking like a perfect gentleman in his tailored suit and shiny shoes.

Her mother and Ice came in from the kitchen as he was hanging both of their coats in the closet.

“Maman, Ice, this is CeCe’s date, Talbert Jones. He’s an English professor at the college.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Jones,” Oceane crooned.

As Grace sent a pleading look toward Ice, he stepped forward, offering his hand. “Wyatt Brown, but everyone calls me Ice.”

“Ice, it’s nice to meet you.” Jones reached out, taking his hand. “Everyone calls me Jones,” he said, smiling.

Ice’s expression relaxed and Grace gave a relieved sigh.

“Everyone, take a seat. Dinner’s ready.”

CeCe and Jones lightened the atmosphere between Ice and her mother while heightening the tension between Grace and Ice.

“CeCe said you were making your ribs. I’ve been looking forward to them all day.”

“You’ve had her ribs before?” Ice asked, his eyes narrowing on Grace.

Jones nodded. “She brings them to the potlucks when we have them for the holidays. All the male teachers end up fighting for them, so not many are left for the women teachers.”

“Is that right?”

Jones reached for a second helping of the ribs and another corn muffin. “Yes. Several of us have asked for her barbeque sauce recipe, but she won’t give it up.”

“That’s good to know.” Grace’s mother didn’t try to hide her glee at Ice’s jealousy.

CeCe saved the dinner by asking her mother about Dax’s movie, moving the conversation on, keeping them busy talking throughout the meal. Then Grace and CeCe cleared the table.

“Whew, you weren’t joking about your mom and Ice,” CeCe said when they were alone in the kitchen.

“No, but I’m hoping she comes around.” Grace tried to be positive.

CeCe shook her head. “Oceane’s stubborn. Once she makes her mind up, there’s no changing it.”

“I want her to like Ice, but I’m a grown woman, and she has to realize I care about him. She’ll get used to him, eventually.”

“Not a chance in Hell,” CeCe said, picking up the dessert plates.

Ice and Jones both ate two pieces of the cake and were about to take another slice, each man trying to outdo the other.

“I’ll wrap you up a piece to take home, Jones,” Grace offered.

“Thanks, Grace. I love your chocolate cake. I gained five pounds on the one you made me for my birthday.”

Ice rose from the table. “She made you a cake for you birthday?”

“Yes.”

“It was from the whole faculty,” Grace explained, escaping to the kitchen.

Ice followed her in, packing the dirty dessert plates.

“Don’t forget to wrap me a piece to take home, too.” His caustic voice had her hackles rising.

“His birthday was last July before I met you, not that it matters.” She placed her hands on her hips. “I can make that cake for anyone I want to.”

“That’s my cake.”

“It’s my cake and I can—”