I guess me dressed in the leathers and a tight T-shirt and the big boots flipped her switch big time.
I’d remember that . . . for some time in the future, because right now her continued staring/almost drooling at the sight of me wasn’t making her ’rents any happier.
Can you say awkward much?
“Why is Maxwell Rush”—Mr. Lockhart’s inflection somehow replaced my name with the words total fucking loser—“here to see you?”
Might as well just brand me as the black sheep of The Battery, forget about the Rush family’s scapegoat.
“Mrs. Lockhart, Mr. Lockhart. We’ve been seeing each other.” I finally moved from my frozen stance by the door. “Shy’s pretty special to me.”
When I reached her side, I leaned down to kiss her forehead then I dropped into the nearby chair and wrapped my hand around hers.
“And you’re doing what exactly now?” Unveiled scorn dripped from Mrs. Lockhart’s voice. “Since you wasted your top-class education and got cut off from your family?”
“I work at Chrome and Steele Auto Parts. You want my resume? And by the way, I own my home.” I tried to maintain the respect for Shy’s folks, but it was hard when faced with this line of inquisition.
Like I wasn’t worthy, which was exactly my biggest battle with myself concerning being part of Shy’s life.
“Where? North Charleston?” Justine Lockhart’s icy veneer reached bitter cold levels as she sneered down her patrician nose at me.
Snob didn’t stand for just Slightly North of Broad; it stood for all the elitist bullshit I’d bucked against growing up.
The atmosphere in the private room remained glacial.
“Shiloh.” Her father stepped in, taking her other hand. “As soon as Doctor Haines says it’s okay we’ll take you home.”
Removing her hand from her dad’s, she glared at him, her delicate jaw set. “I’m not going home with you, Daddy. I have my own place now. And you can’t just shut Max out because he doesn’t fit your idea of the perfect downtown bachelor anymore.”
“Should you even be dating right now?” Her mom sat at the end of the bed.
“Would you rather I died never having done all the things I wanted to?” Shy’s furious words struck my heart, made me clench her hand harder.
Her folks finally had the decency to look a little repentant.
“Relax. I’m not on death’s door. I’m just making a point. I’ve gone through enough tests and surgeries and chemo and goddamned pain to have earned the right to live my life as I see fit!” Her cheeks pink, those gorgeous eyes flashed. “I’m going home to my own bed. And I’m damn well doing a lot more than dating Max. So stop treating me like I’m a child!”
Okay then. Way to out us as lovers.
I shifted in my seat, practically fucking squirming after Shy so righteously dropped that particular bomb.
“You’re right, Shiloh.” Her mom slid forward and framed her daughter’s face in her hands. “You’re right. You have every right to make your own decisions. You always have.” Her voice broke, and she sniffed. “We worry about you so much, darling.”
Shy hugged her mom while Mr. Lockhart looked on, a damp sheen making his eyes glassy, just like mine.
Pulling away, Shy laughed huskily. “I think the drugs make me a little bitchy.”
I bit back a chuckle, recapturing my hold on her hand.
“Well”—Justine drew out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes—“we always called you spirited.”
Thomas’s eyes crinkled. “I thought the term was willful.”
“Okay. You can’t dredge up my teenage years now.” Shy fidgeted with the sheet, folding and refolding it with her fingers.
“Actually, I’d like to hear all about the rest of those years.” As long as mine were off the table.
“You’re terrible.”
Pretending her parents weren’t watching, hawkeyed, I slipped my hand up her arm, around her neck, and brushed our lips softly together.
“You can remind me of that later,” I murmured, drawing away with a quick lick to her mouth.
She appeared even more flustered, sexy, cute . . . in a hospital bed. All the tension between her parents and me had diverted my attention from the facts of the matter I still wasn’t clued in on.
I leaned back. “So, what’s the verdict on your infection?”
“This isn’t a courtroom.” One of her fair eyebrows arched high.
“Shiloh’s infection was caused by a slightly ill-fitting suction socket on her prosthesis. It got into her blood, and she had a reaction to the first antibiotics.” Justine kept her steady eyes on mine. “They switched the prescription, and her fever’s gone down. We’re just waiting for Dr. Haines to give her a final check.”
Shy let out a long sigh, apparently so over listening to her personal, medical details recited right in front of her.
I twisted back to her once I got the lowdown on her condition.
Fuck. Her condition.
Still looked like the same woman I’d left—naked and sated on her couch—late two nights before.