Enduring (Family Justice Book 8) Page 8

  Domineau heard his mouth snap shut when she helped herself to a glorious handful. One of his enormous paws slipped beneath the table and covered her hand. He grinned and aided her squeeze.

  “Desert?” he drawled.

  He was incorrigible! His kid was three feet away! She started to comeback with something clever, but her mouth snapped shut when she heard her mom’s teasing voice. The memory swamped her brain as she remembered catching her parents canoodling in the laundry room. When she had reacted the way every kid did with a lot of yukky and gross, her mom laughed.

  “This is what mommies and daddies do. And sometimes we have to be sneaky about it.”

  The memory almost took her under when it ended with herself as a little kid thinking how romantic mommies and daddies seemed.

  She raised unguarded eyes to Rafe’s and grimaced. Old panic fired off a volley in her belly.

  “Breathe, baby. Here,” he gently murmured. “Sip some tea.”

  He held the glass to her lips and soothed her with circular back rubs.

  “She gets nightmares,” Matty solemnly told Rafe.

  Domineau hoped the devil chose that moment to reach up from hell and drag her away. Could this get any worse?

  It did when Matty slid from his side of the table and came to her. He tried to hug her around the waist. Part of her broke and she gasped for breath. Putting an arm around his shoulders, she accepted his loving gesture. There was no denying that somewhere along the way, she gave this little boy the key to her heart.

  “Domineau should sit on your lap, Daddy.”

  She swung her gaze to Rafe’s daughter.

  “I feel better when I sit on Daddy’s lap. He can make it better.”

  Oh my fucking god.

  Matty took things to an eleven when he told Molly, “She doesn’t have a mommy and daddy.”

  The way-too-mature girl replied, “I don’t have a mommy.”

  Rafe said absolutely nothing as this surreal conversation continued.

  Molly nodded at Matty. “You have a new daddy, right?”

  His adorable head bounced enthusiastically. “Roman is the bomb. Kiki says I can say that.”

  They laughed. Rafe finally spoke. “Bella got a new mommy.”

  “I love Aunt Heather,” Matty burbled. “She cooks and stuff. Bella says her mommy is a sorry note from an angel.”

  “What’s that mean?” Molly asked.

  Matty half shrugged and looked up at Domineau. “Her first mommy didn’t take care of her, and then she died. So an angel sent Heather to say sorry.”

  Why was this stuff so simple for kids? Matty made angels and sorry notes disguised as a new mom sound perfectly reasonable. So did Molly and the lap sitting.

  A goddamn bomb went off in her brain when Matty asked, “Are you gonna be Molly’s new mom?”

  “What?” she croaked.

  Molly giggled and reached across the table to smack Matty’s arm. “Shush! Remember? We aren’t supposed to ask.”

  She was still recovering from a case of flabbergast when Matty tugged on her sleeve and crooked his finger. She leaned closer, and he whispered, “It’s okay with me, Domineau. If you want Mr. Dallas to be your boyfriend, I can talk to him.”

  She would enjoy eavesdropping on that conversation. When her staunchest defender asked Rafe about his intentions, she wondered if his answer would include the admission that his fantasy was to fuck her on every surface in every room in whatever house he lived in.

  Thank god that Rafe finally found his voice.

  He remembered his first date. Sherry Newhouse. Fifth grade femme fatale. They went to the winter ball. She told him how to stand when they had a picture taken. In a darkened hallway near the bathrooms, she had demanded he kiss her on the lips.

  How many females had he kissed since then?

  He had no idea.

  But the one thing he did know was this—Domineau was the only woman who had ever mattered. Ever. And right now, what they were doing was stupid. By pretending and denying, they were playing with fire. One wrong move and the whole thing could catch fire and burn to the ground.

  There was no fucking way that scenario worked for him. He had waited too long for a real chance. Their first crash and burn almost crippled him emotionally, and getting on with his life after her rejection had not been easy. Or fun. Until Marielle. His little girl brought the light back to his life.

  The only way forward as far as he could figure was by taking a small hop of faith—not quite a leap—and praying that Molly and Domineau would find a way to bond. Forcing Domineau’s hand probably made him a dick, but he was clutching a straw in force-five wind storm.

  He moved on her in a way that Rafe knew would get a reaction. He also knew that no matter how pissed off she got, he would be fucking her into submission later tonight.

  Sensing Matty as an ally, he directed his response to the other man at the table. From the corner of his eye, he saw Domineau get flustered and start shredding a paper napkin.

  “We should talk, Matthew,” Rafe gravely told the impressionable boy.

  Molly, the little imp, giggled.

  “Rafe,” Domineau grumbled. “Cut it out.”

  Not sure what his daughter was thinking, he was surprised when she reached across the table for Domineau’s hand. His surprise turned to frozen shock when she dropped a truth nugget he could barely believe she remembered him saying.

  “One time, I asked Daddy if we could find a mommy for our family. He said that mommies need extra love.”

  “It’s true,” Matty interjected.

  “And then he said that he only had enough love for me and you.”

  “What?” Domineau asked.

  “Yeah. He told me about a lady with pretty eyes who wanted to be a ballerina. That was you, right?”

  Wow. In the end, he said almost nothing. Molly and Matty were making his argument for him.

  He claimed Domineau’s thigh and gave a gentle squeeze. She reached for his hand—he thought she meant to push it aside—and threaded trembling fingers with his. Her nervousness touched him deeply. Smoke was far too badass for nerves. This unsure, conflicted female was the part she kept hidden from everybody. Except finally, him.

  Matty, God bless his old soul, joined in. “My dad said one time he did something stupid, and Domineau got hurt. He told Kiki that Mr. Dallas was so mad he almost snapped him in two. But Domineau told him no. He says that’s when he knew you guys belonged together.”

  Domineau groaned. “Both of you,” she said with a gesture at both kids. “Cover your ears.”

  They complied, of course, with a giggle after Matty dryly chanted, “Penny jar!”

  “What the fuck, Rafe,” she growled.

  Goddammit. Why does her growl have to sound so sexy? Was it because of the reverberation in her throat? The one his cock so thoroughly enjoyed? Yeah, probably.

  “Don’t overreact,” he teased. “They still have eyes, and believe me, darlin’, Sherlock and Holmes are watching our every twitch and sigh.”

  Domineau’s hand slammed flat on the table, and she glared at him with some serious eat shit and die shade shooting from her eyes. “Is everyone talking? If there’s a betting pool, I’m going to shoot somebody.”

  That was so not what he expected her to say. He would bet a million bucks she had no idea her walls were crumbling. Now seemed as good a time as any to set her straight and let the chips fall.

  “There are no wagers, darlin’. Because you are the only one who ignores the truth. Nobody has had the balls to say anything to my face, but let’s be honest —Team Justice knows damn well what’s going on. And has been going on for a long time. Just waiting on you.”

  “Time’s up,” Matty declared. “Are you gonna do it?”

  Domineau groaned and covered her eyes.

  The kid persisted. “Domineau?”

  Vulnerable and exposed, his lady pulled it together and sat straight. Pride for how she handled everything thrown her way fil
led him to bursting.

  “Okay, kids”—she sniggered—“let’s get some things straight. No more drivel about mommies and daddies, got it?”

  Both kids whined and grumbled, “Aww.”

  She softened a bit and continued. “But we can negotiate terms for a boyfriend/girlfriend arrangement.”

  Molly nearly jumped out of her skin and squealed with delight.

  Matty appeared concerned. “What does nego, uh, what does that mean?”

  “Negotiate terms,” Rafe explained. “It means she’s open to discussing the parameters …”

  “You guys are so funny,” Matty quipped.

  Molly complained, “Too many big words.”

  She was right, of course, but his lady needed to learn this. Kids were not here for their grown-up shit.

  “No, you’re right,” Domineau agreed.

  Matty laughed. “But I like her big words. We make lists and stuff.”

  “Well, here’s an idea,” he told them with his phone held up. “I’ll start a list, and every time you hear something you don’t understand, we’ll make a note. Then, at home, we can look it up and discuss it. Sound good?”

  The kids enthusiastically agreed, but Domineau was quiet. Her hands were in her lap, and she was strangling another napkin. His heart went out to her. She was trying so hard, and he knew the effort came at a cost. Instead of hiding his feelings, he let her know what she could expect going forward by slipping an arm around her shoulders. She turned slightly and put both hands on his thigh. Their eyes met. He gave her a confident smile and nodded to let her know everything was all right.

  He nearly exploded with pride when she offered the junior detectives studying them from the other side of the table a tentative smile. “Just so you know, this is new. Never been a girlfriend before. I need you guys to help me. Can you do a favor?”

  “What favor,” Molly wanted to know.

  “Well,” Domineau explained, “is it okay if some things stay between us?”

  “She means private stuff. Like kissing,” Matty smoothly translated.

  “Family stuff stays private, right, Moll?” He looked at his daughter and gave her a dad expression.

  She did him proud by calming Domineau’s nerves. “Oh, don’t worry, Domineau. Me and Matty and Bella made a secret keeper. Nobody knows about it but us.” She imitated zipping her lip and then grinned.

  Matty announced that he had to take a wicked whizz. Roman’s go-to expression coming out of the boy’s mouth was the perfect way to lighten the serious mood. Sometimes easy and amusing was the surest way to success. No need to push Domineau any further.

  Rafe playfully shoved Domineau from their side of the booth and gave her mad props for the goofy way she pretended to nearly ass plant on the floor. The kids were delighted. He motioned to Matty.

  “Men’s room run. Ladies,” he drawled, “behave while we’re gone.”

  Matty snickered before marching toward the bathrooms. Rafe hesitated for a heartbeat when he saw Domineau’s panic at being left alone with Molly. She looked at him and sighed. There was nothing he could do. An adult was mandatory for all public bathroom visits.

  She nodded. “Go on. It’s fine.”

  He nodded and hurried after Matty.

  Wicked whizz taken care of, they were washing up when Rafe gave his daughter’s first date some man-to-man face time.

  “So, Matthew. What are your intentions toward my daughter?”

  Matty snickered and rolled his eyes. “My dad said you’d ask.”

  He grinned because the subtext of Roman Bishop’s son and his daughter hanging out was too fucking ironic for a straight face. Plucking a handful of paper towels that he handed off to Matty, Rafe played his fatherly role to the hilt.

  “I thought you and Bella …”

  “Oh! Bella’s my girl, Mr. Dallas. We packed and everything.”

  Packed? Rafe searched his brain for a kid-translation. “You mean you made a pact?”

  “Sure,” Matty agreed. “I never knew anyone my age before Bella. She has friends at her school, but there is stuff she won’t say.” He shrugged. “Kiki says we have things in common.”

  “If Bella is your girl, how come your first date is with Molly?”

  It seemed like a reasonable question. Matty, however, looked at him as if he had grown a second nose and mumbled, “Uh.”

  He had the sudden feeling these kids were a shit ton smarter than the adults gave them credit for.

  “Uh?” he asked with raised brows.

  Watching an almost five-year-old with an ancient soul shuffling his feet awkwardly and searching for an escape route was worth the price of admission.

  “Okay. I’ll tell you but don’t tell Domineau.”

  Wow. Whatever the junior league was up to would be good—he could sense it. Was this what second generation Team Justice looked like?

  “So me ’n’ Moll and Bella were talking. We’re not stupid, Mr. Dallas. And Domineau is my best friend. She likes you, and you like her.”

  Holy crapadoni. Why the fuck do adults imagine they know so much more than kids?

  “It was Bella who said if me and Molly made a date, you’d have to go too. And I could ask Domineau to tag along.”

  Rafe laughed and rubbed a hand back and forth on his skull. They’d been set up by three kids. On impulse, he extended his hand, man to man, and gravely thanked the boy for being a gentleman with his daughter. Matty beamed like the lights on a 747.

  “Let’s get back, little man,” he said.

  Before they stepped back into the restaurant, Matty turned and asked, “Why does Domineau act funny around Molly?”

  The boy’s protective instincts and love for his friend made Rafe emotional. If he had a lick of sense, he’d be jealous of the boy for stealing Domineau’s heart.

  Mincing words with the unusually mature lad seemed idiotic, so he went with a pared down version of the truth that he hoped the kid would understand.

  “She might seem tough, Matthew, and she is, but Domineau is human like the rest of us.”

  “You mean because her mom and dad got killed?”

  Jesus F. Christ. This kid knew a lot. He knew Roman would never supply that tidbit. Killed. Which meant it was Domineau who gave the boy the crucial piece of information.

  “Yes, exactly. Molly makes her think about her mom.”

  “Oh.”

  “She told you about the nightmares, didn’t she?” Rafe felt like he was talking to a peer despite Matty being less than half his height.

  “We discuss lots of stuff. She’s going to take me for a ride in her dad’s car.”

  Her dad’s car?

  A fucking insurgent ambush was easier to navigate than being alone with a five-year-old who Domineau swore could see right through her. The kid’s eyes never blinked.

  “What should I call you?”

  Domineau flinched. What was the real question?

  “My dad’s never had a girlfriend before.”

  Oh. Whew. She just needed clarification. Domineau slid off the ledge she was mentally prepared to jump from. With Mom not on the table and Smoke inappropriate, she was about to default with her first name when a hushed voice from the past spoke up. For whatever reason, she took a little leap and hoped it was not a horrible mistake.

  “My parents called me Rina. Short for ballerina or bailarina,” she pronounced in flawless Portuguese. “I’d be okay if you wanted to use it.”

  “Wow, that’s pretty,” Molly gushed. “I like the way you say Spanish. Can you teach me?”

  “My family is Portuguese,” she replied. “Sounds a lot like Spanish. But I can speak French too. And a little German.”

  “I like you.”

  Dinner swirled in her stomach. Boob sweat made her torso feel like it was wrapped in a heating pad. Molly’s eyes—just like her father’s—studied her. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

  “You don’t know me. I could be a real bitch.” She regretted the profanity until the
precocious kid laughed.

  “Matty told me you’d say that! Penny jar, by the way.”

  She had to smile. Damn that boy!

  “Hey! I have an idea. Wanna dance with me and Bella and Amy? In the show. Do you have leotards? I do. They’re pink. I wear my hair special. Daddy won’t let me get toe shoes. Gotta be twelve. Do you have toe shoes?”

  The question landed like a rock in her gut. Did she have toe shoes? Fuck. Yeah. She had a box of pointe shoes. The first pair she got for her eleventh birthday from her dad. Domineau remembered being thirteen when she took her first pointe work class, but by then, she was an orphan.

  The kid sucked up all the oxygen around them and talked nonstop. Her questions were non-sequiturs stitched together willy-nilly. Domineau half-relaxed.

  “I heard you singing. With Ms. Remy. I wanna play the piano like her. Ms. Heather is making oatmeal bars for the bake sale. I like being on stage, do you?”

  She might be starting to get the hang of this. Molly’s motor mouth was no different from Matty except instead of chess and random science questions, she was all about girly stuff. Instead of responding, she asked a question. “What do you and your dad do for fun?”

  Molly laugh-shrugged. “Everything! Daddy likes to be silly. We made peanut butter and jelly pancakes!”

  “Did you make a mess?”

  “A big one,” she proudly declared. “Do you like my hair? Daddy did it.” Molly flipped around and pointed at an amazingly perfect French braid.

  Rafael D’Alessandro did a mean French braid. The notion was so funny she snorted, but it made sense in a way. Strong, opinionated women raised him, and he was, hands down, the most impressive feminist she had come across in a long time.

  Matty was strutting confidently toward the table. He looked so damn cute in his Roman Bishop Junior outfit. She and her old friend hit the jackpot the day Kelly and Matty came into their lives. Seemed trite to say it, but things really would never be the same.

  Rafe turned the corner right behind Matty. His strut was also confident although punctuated with a manly swagger that earned a few turned heads. Of course, his stature, muscles, and bald dome meant some of the curious eyes following him were also sighing.