moment.”
“Don’t you think I want to hear the explanation also?” he challenged.
“This is between Bobbie and me,” Adam reiterated calmly.
A bright flush of color stained his father’s cheeks and guilt slammed into Adam, especially when Bobbie said, “Your dad is worried. That’s only natural after everything that’s happened today.”
Salvatore immediately picked up on her words. “What has happened today, Adam? Is there something else I should know?”
Bobbie winced as she realized her gaffe, but Adam tried to smooth things over. “I was going to tell you. I just wanted to try to get more information first.”
Salvatore marched right up to them, his demeanor full of bluster, but also concern. “Tell me what?”
Adam shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “There was an incident in the parking lot today. I was mugged by two men and Bobbie came to my aid.”
Salvatore jerked his head from side to side as he glanced between them, his agitation clear. “You were mugged? And you didn’t think to call me so I could help?”
“It’s not the kind of case you handle. Besides, I didn’t want to make it public and draw all kinds of attention to myself,” Adam replied. That seemed to mollify his father somewhat.
“You’re right. You don’t need to be in the spotlight,” he said, although he quickly tacked on, “I’m going, but we will talk about this in the morning.”
With an abrupt nod in Adam’s direction and a slight dip of acknowledgment to Bobbie, his father stalked from the room.
“Angry much,” Bobbie said, and glanced up at him.
“He’s a good dad. He’s just not all touchy-feely like you and your family,” Adam replied, recalling the easy camaraderie he had seen between her and Tony, and the love present in the photos in her home.
“What could you possibly know about me and my family?” she challenged, that liquor-colored gaze narrowing on him.
“I just assumed, since you and Tony seemed so close,” he lied, and walked the short distance to the table where his father had left the glass of water.
“What about your mom? Shouldn’t you let her know you’re okay?”
“I don’t have a mom,” he replied, hating the unexpectedly injured tone that emerged in his voice.
“Everyone has a mom, Adam,” Bobbie said with a playful kind of exasperation, attempting to lighten his mood.
“I’m adopted. I don’t know who she is,” he replied, and then quickly changed the subject. His words hid more than they told, and would likely make her question what else there was to his story.
“Can I get you anything?” He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit. Within him the energy he had gathered jumped crazily, and he knew he needed something stronger to quiet that nearly uncontrolled power skittering through his brain and body before it created problems.
“Just like that? You can play host after you almost… Would electrocute be an accurate way to describe the idiot thing you did to yourself?”
Her question needed no answer, so he sauntered to a bar tucked into a nearby set of cabinets. Grabbing a bottle of twenty-five-year-old single malt scotch and two glasses, he returned to the table, sat, and placed a glass before each of them. Pouring a few fingers of the liquor into the tumblers, he lifted his and made a toast.
“To my guardian angel.”
“More like a harbinger of doom. Every time we see each other something bad happens,” she said, but raised her glass, clicked it against his, and took a swig.
She made a face, disgust, not appreciation, and he chuckled. “You like it,” he teased.
She took another sip, wrinkled her nose again. It was a cute nose, he decided, taking his time to examine her very expressive face.
“I’m not much of a drinker. It dulls the senses and I’ve got enough dullness going on as it is.”
Whether she knew it or not, she skipped her gaze down her arm and to her leg before shooting it back up to stare at him. “But you
“Don’t you think I want to hear the explanation also?” he challenged.
“This is between Bobbie and me,” Adam reiterated calmly.
A bright flush of color stained his father’s cheeks and guilt slammed into Adam, especially when Bobbie said, “Your dad is worried. That’s only natural after everything that’s happened today.”
Salvatore immediately picked up on her words. “What has happened today, Adam? Is there something else I should know?”
Bobbie winced as she realized her gaffe, but Adam tried to smooth things over. “I was going to tell you. I just wanted to try to get more information first.”
Salvatore marched right up to them, his demeanor full of bluster, but also concern. “Tell me what?”
Adam shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “There was an incident in the parking lot today. I was mugged by two men and Bobbie came to my aid.”
Salvatore jerked his head from side to side as he glanced between them, his agitation clear. “You were mugged? And you didn’t think to call me so I could help?”
“It’s not the kind of case you handle. Besides, I didn’t want to make it public and draw all kinds of attention to myself,” Adam replied. That seemed to mollify his father somewhat.
“You’re right. You don’t need to be in the spotlight,” he said, although he quickly tacked on, “I’m going, but we will talk about this in the morning.”
With an abrupt nod in Adam’s direction and a slight dip of acknowledgment to Bobbie, his father stalked from the room.
“Angry much,” Bobbie said, and glanced up at him.
“He’s a good dad. He’s just not all touchy-feely like you and your family,” Adam replied, recalling the easy camaraderie he had seen between her and Tony, and the love present in the photos in her home.
“What could you possibly know about me and my family?” she challenged, that liquor-colored gaze narrowing on him.
“I just assumed, since you and Tony seemed so close,” he lied, and walked the short distance to the table where his father had left the glass of water.
“What about your mom? Shouldn’t you let her know you’re okay?”
“I don’t have a mom,” he replied, hating the unexpectedly injured tone that emerged in his voice.
“Everyone has a mom, Adam,” Bobbie said with a playful kind of exasperation, attempting to lighten his mood.
“I’m adopted. I don’t know who she is,” he replied, and then quickly changed the subject. His words hid more than they told, and would likely make her question what else there was to his story.
“Can I get you anything?” He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit. Within him the energy he had gathered jumped crazily, and he knew he needed something stronger to quiet that nearly uncontrolled power skittering through his brain and body before it created problems.
“Just like that? You can play host after you almost… Would electrocute be an accurate way to describe the idiot thing you did to yourself?”
Her question needed no answer, so he sauntered to a bar tucked into a nearby set of cabinets. Grabbing a bottle of twenty-five-year-old single malt scotch and two glasses, he returned to the table, sat, and placed a glass before each of them. Pouring a few fingers of the liquor into the tumblers, he lifted his and made a toast.
“To my guardian angel.”
“More like a harbinger of doom. Every time we see each other something bad happens,” she said, but raised her glass, clicked it against his, and took a swig.
She made a face, disgust, not appreciation, and he chuckled. “You like it,” he teased.
She took another sip, wrinkled her nose again. It was a cute nose, he decided, taking his time to examine her very expressive face.
“I’m not much of a drinker. It dulls the senses and I’ve got enough dullness going on as it is.”
Whether she knew it or not, she skipped her gaze down her arm and to her leg before shooting it back up to stare at him. “But you
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