“I’m with you so far,” she muttered.
“Grayson and I promise to never do it again, don’t we, buddy?”
“I promise, Mom!”
Dammit, but she could feel a small, hairline crack in her anger.
“Let me make it up to you—”
“It was just a toy. There is nothing to make up—”
“Want some ice cream, kiddo?” Matt asked Grayson, blowing right past her.
“YES! ICE CREAM!” Grayson shrieked.
Rebecca gave Matt a withering look. “That’s cheating.”
“I know.” He casually propped his arm against the car door and grinned down at her. “But it was the only way I was going to win. And I have to win this time because I was really an idiot, and if you don’t let me make it up to you now, I may never have another opportunity. So how about it, little girl? Want some ice cream?”
She debated, but his easy smile was making it difficult to think. “I might be talked into a soda.” She lifted her chin a smidge higher. “And you have to ride in the back with the Rescue Buddies.” She stepped back, out of his strong magnetic field, the one that could suck her in and seize her before she knew what was happening.
“Thanks,” Matt said cheerfully, and climbed in beside Grayson.
He directed her to Amy’s Ice Cream, which was located, rather conveniently, just across the street from his penthouse apartment. Grayson got double fudge chocolate with Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup pieces, Matt got butter pecan with extra pecans thrown in, and talked Rebecca into a small cup of chocolate ice cream, which she took with some reservation. She had a small problem with ice cream, much like a drug addict had a problem with cocaine. It was completely out of her control, and she really preferred Matt not hear any of the terrible oinking sounds she could make when she ate it.
They ended up taking their ice cream to Matt’s apartment after he asked Grayson if he wanted to see his room. The man was wily, she’d definitely give him that. They sat around his big glass dining table; Matt devoured his ice cream in about three bites, tossed the container into a nearby trash bin, then leaned back, stretching his arm across the next chair. “So how was your weekend?” he drawled as he watched Rebecca pick at her ice cream.
Small talk. She hated small talk, had never been any good at it, and was really no good at it when her skin was on fire just because of the proximity of a man. “Fine.”
“Fine? That’s it? Did you hit any bingo halls? Vacuum anything? Maybe hand-address a few thousand envelopes?”
Obsess about him, maybe?
“We went to Grandpa’s house,” Grayson answered for her. “He has horses and cows and some sheep. But no pigs, because Grandpa says they stink.”
“Excellent!” Matt exclaimed, and shifted his gaze to Rebecca. “So I guess I can assume you have nothing against the lyric opera, but were out of town?”
Rebecca smiled into her cup. “You may assume that.”
“Well paint me relieved,” he said, smiling. “I thought I’d done something wrong. So with all those animals around, did you find time for drawing?”
“Mom drew lots of pictures,” Grayson chimed in again. “And then she made Bean take about ten baths!”
Matt’s chest puffed a little. “You took your sketchbook, huh?”
Rebecca stabbed her chocolate ice cream, wondered why answering that question made her feel like she was pulling her skirt up and exposing herself. “Yes,” she said at last. “I took it. And I drew a little.”
“She drew some trees and some cows,” Grayson clarified.
“Ah,” Matt said, drumming his fingers against the table top. “Trees and cows . . . So? How did it go?”
With a soft laugh, Rebecca shrugged. “I’m no Renoir, that’s for sure. I’m very rusty . . . but it started to come back to me,” she said, and glanced sheepishly at him. “Thanks again.”
That made, Matt positively beam. “This is great news for me, you know. It means maybe I’m not a complete idiot.”
Rebecca shook her head; her gaze fell to his mouth, her heart filling with the memory of his kiss, how it felt to be held by him, how it felt—
“Mom, did you tell him about Tater?” Grayson asked, jerking her back to reality.
“Who’s Tater?” Matt asked, still beaming.
“He’s my dog.”
“So dude, what is up with all those dogs?” Matt asked, playfully punching him in the shoulder. “You have Frank, right? And Bean—”
“And Tater!” Grayson cried. “But we can’t help it ‘cuz they come to live with us.”
“They’re dumps,” Rebecca clarified at Matt’s quizzical expression. “People dump their dogs in the country when they don’t want them anymore. We’ve had as many as five dogs at once.”
“That sucks,” Matt said, his smile fading. “That really sucks. You wonder why people get a dog in the first place.”
Rebecca nodded her complete agreement.