Sweet Heat (9 page)

Surprise and a tiny spark of apprehension kindled in her belly as she made her way back down to the apartment door.

Maybe it was Christine? Her friend had been known to drop by occasionally. And it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that the other woman might show up to get another look at Brandon… but it didn’t seem likely. Christine had known they were having a ‘date’ night.

All her worries were born out as soon as she pulled open the door.

“Mom. Daddy.” She had to force the words out of her throat. “What are you doing here?”

Her father smiled, stepping inside to pull her into a brief but warm hug. Over his shoulder, she watched her mother’s whisky brown eyes narrow as they swept the apartment behind her. From her vantage point near the door, she couldn’t see anything untoward, but she would be able to hear the music and smell the jambalaya cooking just as Suzanne had when she first entered.

“Well, we had a few extra minutes before we needed to get to the restaurant so your mother suggested we drop by and just see if you’d gotten home early. And here you are!”

“Here I am.” She chuckled, though it sounded awkward even to her own ears.

Monique Headley’s pointed chin — the same pointed chin Suzanne saw in the mirror every morning — lifted and her nostrils flared. “Have you been taking cooking classes, Suzanne? You haven’t mentioned anything like that in our conversations.”

Her mother was a master at the guilt trip, and Suzanne felt the slimy emotion well within her at the veiled words. She’d been avoiding her mother’s calls for days, or cutting their phone conversations short with flimsy excuses when they did talk.

“Oh… well, no. That is, I…” She glanced back toward to kitchen, as if she might find some sort of explanation to give to her parents written in invisible ink above the archway.

“It smells delicious, pumpkin.” Her father patted her shoulder, obviously sensing that she was uncomfortable but misunderstanding why.

Suzanne tried to smile, but her brain was too busy scrambling for a way to get her parents back out the door without them growing suspicious. Or any more suspicious, in her mother’s case.

This was not how she had planned on telling them about Brandon. She was going to ease them into it, start off by mentioning she’d met someone, and then selling them on his many amazing points before slowly and subtly adjusting them in to the fact that he was a bit different from the type of guys she usually dated.

How much longer did she have until Brandon was done in the bathroom?

In answer to her unspoken question, she heard his bare feet on the steps behind her. Her heart seized in her chest. She wished, in that frantic moment, that she could somehow freeze time and rearrange this moment to avoid the inevitable awkwardness of the situation.

“Babe, I don’t suppose you have… Oh.” Brandon froze at the bottom of the stairs, his blue eyes widening as he took in the sight of her parents, her father in a three-piece suit, and her mother in a sleek designer silk sheath dress.

He was bare-chested, wearing only his worn jeans, his blond hair still damp from the shower. He had been rubbing a towel over his head as he descended, and it now hung limply from his hand.

Suzanne mentally berated herself for noticing the breadth of his chest, with the light furring of hair a few shades darker than the honey blond hair on his head. At any other time, the sight would have set her drooling, but with her parents staring at Brandon and him gaping back at them, she couldn’t afford to let his gorgeousness muddle her thinking.

Unfortunately, her brain didn’t seem to be up to more than the single, screaming thought, ‘Oh my God, my parents are here and Brandon is shirtless! What am I going to do?’

The silence became heavy as all four of them stared at each other. Finally, Brandon broke it, coughing a little and tossing the towel over his shoulder. He gave her mother and father a warm smile — a gorgeous, wide, friendly smile — and extended his hand.

“Hey, nice to meet you folks. I’m Brandon. You must be Suzanne’s parents.” There was a faint flush on his cheeks as he shook her father’s hand. Her mother left his hand hanging in the air for a moment, eyeing him from head to toe. She pressed her lips tightly together in a show of disapproval that made Suzanne’s gut clench.

She breathed a soft sigh of relief when her mother took his hand and gave it a brief squeeze.

“Brandon? You’re a… friend of Suzanne’s? She hasn’t mentioned you.”

The flush on Brandon’s cheeks darkened. When her mother dropped his hand, he snagged the towel and twisted it between his big, square hands before flipping it back over his shoulder. He cut a glance at her, his blue eyes a little frantic.

Suzanne mouthed, ‘I’m sorry’, hoping to soften the impact of her mother’s barb.

Brandon chewed his lower lip. “Uh, well, Ms. Headley, we haven’t known each other all that long…”

He seemed to realize how that must sound, given he was standing in her hallway shirtless and having obviously just gotten out of the shower and scrambled to continue. “But, yes, I would hope Suzanne would consider me a friend.”

Her mother’s plucked brows rose the tiniest bit. A muscle in her father’s cheek twitched.

“Yes, well.” Henry Headley brushed a piece of invisible lint from his jacket cuff. “I see you’re busy, Suzanne. You might have mentioned you had dinner plans when we spoke earlier. We wouldn’t have interrupted.”

Suzanne winced. “Sorry, Daddy. I’ve been so busy…” It was a lame attempt at a lie, and everyone in the room knew it. Her gaze slid over to Brandon, and she saw a flicker of hurt in his eyes. Her heart felt squeezed.

She slid a little closer to him and touched her knuckles to his forearm. “Brandon’s cooking for me. That delicious jambalaya you smell is all him.” As far as apologies for her bonehead behavior went, it was weak, but Brandon smiled and put an arm around her shoulders.

“There’s enough for everyone,” he offered sweetly.

Her mother’s lashes fluttered as if her brain could not process Brandon’s words. Her father coughed and looked at his watch. “That’s very
kind
. But we’ve got reservations.” He gave Brandon a thin smile, his emphasis on ‘kind’ making it sound anything but.

“Yes, we should go.” Her mother slid her hand into the crook of her father’s arm.

“Some other time!” Suzanne heard how wobbly her voice was. She couldn’t help it, her insides felt like they were quaking with embarrassment.

Her father made a noncommittal ‘mmm’ noise as he drew her mother toward the front door. The look on his face was the hard, shuttered look he got in a courtroom.

“Oh, Suzanne dear.” Her mother turned back over her shoulder, her eyes flashing. “I’m sure it’s only because you’ve been
busy
…” She made a point of not looking at Brandon. “But Antoine mentioned that you two hadn’t spoken since your date last week. Do try and give him a call.”

She felt Brandon stiffen beside her, his fingers momentarily biting into her shoulder. He relaxed and stepped slightly away from her, dropping his arm.

“Date?” He murmured the word under his breath, but somehow her mother seemed to hear him. She gave Brandon a smile that was a combination of condescension and understanding. Suzanne recognized the look well. It was her mother’s patented ‘This may hurt a little, but I’m doing it for your own good’ look. She’d seen it a lot growing up.

“Suzanne’s been seeing a friend’s son. He accompanied her to one of her father’s cocktail parties Friday before last, and has been looking forward to their next date.”

Hurt slashed through Brandon’s eyes for a brief second before his gaze shuttered. “You didn’t tell me you were out with someone else that night.”

She couldn’t think of what to say. She wanted to tell Brandon that she’d only been out with Antoine at her mother’s request, that she didn’t even like him. But the words caught in her throat. She couldn’t bring herself to disparage her mother’s friend’s son in front of her mother.

“Brandon…”

The air hummed with awkwardness. She reached for him but he stepped back.

“Excuse me, I should check the food.”  Brandon turned on his heel and headed back down the hall, leaving her alone with her parents.

Suzanne pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers, wondering how she’d gone from looking forward to dinner and snuggling on the couch with Brandon to the knotted tension of the scene that filled the hallway.

“That was…” She shook her head. “You had no right to tell him that, Mother.”

Her father tsked. “Don’t blame your mother for this situation, Suzanne. She didn’t say anything untrue, did she?”

“Really, Suzanne,” her mother began, but she pursed her lips at the sound of Brandon’s approaching footsteps.

When she caught sight of him, dressed once again in his white t-shirt — now sporting a few stains and splashes — with his duffel in hand, Suzanne felt the blood drain from her head. His face was still closed off, smile gone, the skin around his eyes tight.

She lifted a hand, but he stopped several feet from her. Suzanne bit her lip, tears beginning to sting her eyes. Her voice trembled. “H-how’s the jambalaya?”

“It’s ready. I put it on low. You can eat whenever you want.”

She didn’t miss the ‘you’. Her heart shriveled and her next words almost stuck in her throat. “You’re not staying?”

Her parents were watching the exchange with stone-faces. She wanted to push them out the door and beg Brandon to stay… but that wasn’t how she was raised. She knew what her grandmother would say about that. Unfortunately, Suzanne wasn’t her grandmother, and the strong, elderly woman was gone.

Brandon gave a brief shake of his head, his gaze hovering somewhere around her forehead. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I need to check in at the station. Enjoy the food.” He nodded at her parents. “Mr. Headley. Ms. Headley.”

He slid past them both, graceful despite his bulk. The click of the door closing was loud in the silent hallway.

Suzanne’s breath caught in her throat, a soft whimper. Her mother sighed.

She turned away from her parents and stumbled into the living room, cutting off the low music and flopping onto the couch. She should be sitting here beside Brandon, eating delicious jambalaya and laughing over some cheesy science fiction movie. She put her head in her hands.

Behind her, she heard the tak-tak-tak of her mother’s heels on the wood floor. “What were you thinking, bringing someone like him home?”

“Someone like him, Mother?” She spoke without racing her head. “Do you mean white, or blue collar?”

“Suzanne Headley!” Her father’s voice cut through the room, making her flinch. “Apologize to your mother. You know very well we don’t care about skin color. Insinuating otherwise is petty and insulting.”

She shook her head. “Sorry. But you can’t deny that all the guys you set me up with are black men.”

“I set you up with young, professional men.” Her mother sniffed. “They just so happen to be black.”

“We only want what’s best for you.” Her father laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. “You’re our little girl.”

She finally lifted her face. Her mother was perched on the arm of the couch, examining her nails. When she caught Suzanne’s gaze, she reached out and took her hand, patting the back.

“I know when you’re young, it’s easy to be turned by a handsome face and want to… go a little wild. But that’s not the kind of relationship that’s lasting. That’s not the kind of man who’s going to support you and be your partner. A man like Antoine, he can be your match in all things.”

Suzanne’s stomach rolled and pitched. She knew her mother really, honestly believed what she was saying, but she knew nothing about Brandon. She’d made a snap judgment within minutes of meeting him.

Panic welled up inside as she thought about him getting further and further away from her. This whole night had turned into a disaster. She knew she’d screwed up, but she couldn’t do anything about it with her mother still hovering over her.

At her shoulder, her father stroked her hair. “Why don’t you come out to dinner with us after all? We can move the reservation.”

She blew out a breath and smiled at him. “No, Daddy. That’s okay. You guys go on. I need… some time.”

“Okay, pumpkin.” He brushed a kiss on her cheek and then extended his hand to her mother. “Come on, Monique. Let’s give our girl some space.”

Monique stood, giving Suzanne’s hand a squeeze. “I know I come on strong, but it’s out of love. You know that, right?”

She did. Not that it helped her frustration. But she gave a nod anyway. “I know, Mom.”

Finally, after another round of goodbyes, her parents left. Suzanne slumped against the door as soon as it shut.

Her head was pounding with a sudden stress headache, and her chest felt hollow. Her hand shook as she fished her cell out of her purse and hurriedly dialed Brandon’s number.

Blood rushed in her ears, almost drowning out the sound of the phone ringing. And ringing.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” She pleaded, closing her eyes.

But he didn’t.

The call went to voicemail. With a weary sigh, Suzanne left a short, “Please call me,” and hung up.