“Nope. Something’s going on.”
“Of course. Wishful thinking.”
“Now, one more question.”
Somehow, they’d managed to inch closer. Her body was just drawn to his like a magnet to a fridge, and there was nowhere else to go. “Shoot.”
“Where’s your father? Do you see him?”
Her smile was hindered by the fact that she didn’t see him as often since he’d moved to California. “I do. He’s remarried now to a really nice lady named Stella, and very happy. But he avoids my mother at all costs, and I avoid telling her I see him.”
“It must be tough to hide how you feel about him. Tougher still not to share your moments with him out loud.”
“Tough is an understatement. I can’t even speak his name without her biting my head off. I still don’t know why they divorced, but I remember the fights before they broke up. Epic. I know rationally they’re better off apart, but it was hard on me at the time. What about you? Who is your father, anyway?”
His grin went facetious. “You really wanna know?”
“Duh. Especially if it’s some awesome Greek god.”
“If only my blood were that pure. My father was a poor peasant my mother fell in love with for about twenty-two seconds because a rival of hers had her eye on him. Then she dumped him. This was long before birth control was invented. He was a total mortal, but a great, honest, hardworking guy. Taught me to love my mom for who she was instead of offering her my love as ransom if she’d just change her wicked ways. But it was a long road getting there. Which was how I inherited babysitting the apple to begin with. From her anger when I wouldn’t produce grandchildren with just anyone because she said I should.”
Quinn’s eyes flew wide open in surprise. “So you’re half mortal?”
“Technically speaking, yep.”
“So you sort of know my struggle with a strong, willful mother.”
“Sort of,” he responded. “My mother and I butted heads for many centuries over her poor behavior. She was a vengeful, exceptionally vain woman. Not in the violent, I’ll-rip-your-limbs-off way, but in a spiteful, I’ll-steal-your-man, have-your-luscious-hair-shaved-off-your-head-and-make-sure-it-never-grows-back kind of way. My father’s the one who taught me patience and the value of kindness.”
How bizarre to hear these insider stories after spending so much of her life reading about the gods. “You say your mother was vengeful and vain. She’s not anymore?”
“Oh, she’s still plenty vain, and we tease her incessantly about it by giving her gilded hand mirrors and wrinkle cream for Christmas. But she’s mellowed over time. It’s not that she wasn’t a decent enough parent to me, because believe it or not, she was. Always around, always there when you needed her. But she’s had some moments we’ve argued over. My father taught me to stand my ground if I believed I was right—and I did. Not always without detriment to my person,” he said on a chuckle.
“So when she wanted you to marry and have children, she got angry with you and saddled you with the apple out of spite.”
“She thought I was too much like her. Too busy playing the field, irresponsible, etcetera, and the apple was her lesson to me. And I let her think I was too busy playing the field.”
Wait. What? “Let her think you were bed-hopping?”
“Yep. I worked hard at creating that reputation, too. A well-cultivated plan, if I do say so myself. I used plenty of my mother’s tricks. I made up rumors, was seen in all the right places. I wasn’t going to end up with the wrong person because of my mother’s whim. I’d rather end up with the apple forever than be mated to the wrong person. I didn’t do it out of spite. I did it out of a sense of integrity. What would my father’s legacy mean if I wasn’t true not just to myself, but the person I chose to spend the rest of my immortality with?”
Her mouth fell open.
He traced a finger over the outline of her lips, making her fight a shiver. “Your mouth is open.”
“That’s me and my astonishment. Give me a minute and it’ll close on its own.”
Khristos laughed, his minty breath fanning her face. “I sense you have a million questions, grasshopper.”
Yeah, like who knew this man she’d totally believed had chosen the bed sport as his life’s mission was so honorable? “Maybe more like a million and two—”
The sound of knuckles against the door made them both jump apart.
“Dinner, lovebirds! Knock off the spit-swap in there!” Nina called from behind the door.
Quinn cleared her throat and slipped under his arm, reaching for the door. “We’d better get out there before my mother finds out you’re not gay and makes it her mission in life to tack your manhood to her wall—but we’re not done here, Khristos with a K!”