Wearing a blue three-piece suit with a gray tie cinched so tight around his neck it has to be cutting off his circulation, he’s tall, slim, and immaculate. His shoes and fingernails gleam.
I’d bet my Maybach that he gets weekly facials and eats lots of kale.
Staring at Maddie, he bares his teeth like he’s expecting her to check to see if he’s been flossing. Then they launch into this weirdly formal conversation, expressions blank, voices flat. Two robots practicing their speaking skills would be more animated.
He says, “You look wonderful. How have you been?”
“I’m well, thank you, Bobby. You?”
“Excellent. Thank you.”
“I didn’t know you were back in town.”
“My mother’s ill. I flew in a few days ago to look in on her.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. Is it serious?”
“It is, I’m afraid. She’s in the hospital.”
“Her heart again?”
“Yes.”
“Please send her my best regards.”
“I certainly will, thank you.”
Bettina yawns, miffed that she hasn’t been acknowledged. Waldine is looking at the empty space over the new arrival’s head with a faint air of disappointment. And I’m wondering how this guy knows Maddie.
Is he her accountant?
“Hi.” I stick out my hand. “Mason Spark.”
He turns his attention to me. I see him register who I am, then he shows me his incisors, and we shake hands.
“Mason Spark, our very own hometown hero. I’m Robert Cavendish. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
I don’t miss that Maddie called him Bobby, but he introduced himself as Robert.
Not her accountant, then. Family friend?
“You, too. Hope your mom will be okay.”
He blinks like I said something surprising. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”
Then he seems to realize I was standing here before he walked up. He looks around, as if for an explanation. When his gaze settles on Bettina, examining her nails, his expression sours.
He turns away from her like you’d pull away from a spider about to crawl onto your hand. Which I find very, very fucking interesting, considering every other guy in here besides me wanted to bend her over the altar and make her see God.
“Hello, Waldine.”
“Bobby,” replies Waldine, still squinting at the air a few inches over his head.
He seems to know what she’s doing, because he politely inquires, “Still the same?”
Waldine sighs, then pats his shoulder. “Gray as a granny’s cardigan, darlin’. Send your mama my love, will you? I’d go visit her myself, but you know how hospitals clog up my third eye.”
Robert the robot gazes at Waldine with something that looks suspiciously like affection. “I’ll be sure to let her know.” Then he turns his attention back to Maddie, and the warmth in his eyes flares hotter.
Wait.
No.
Holy fuck.
Were the robot and Maddie a thing?
“So how do you two know each other?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
Maddie says, “We’ve known each other since we were kids.”
But at the same time, Robert is providing more interesting detail. “We dated on and off for ten years.”
I stare at Maddie in horror.
Ten years? She dated this animatron for a decade?
Which means—oh fuck—she slept with him.
No wonder she’s celibate! That block of ice could freeze the libido of a porn star!
Maddie’s smile is tight. Without looking at me, she says, “Well, it’s been a treat catching up, Bobby, but I must be going. Mason, why don’t you and Bettina get better acquainted? I’ll get a ride home with Auntie Waldine.”
“Nooo.” I catch her by her arm as she starts to bolt. Smiling, I draw her back against my side. “Brunch, remember?” I make up a hasty lie. “We were gonna talk about my friend who might need your service.” And I need to know all there is to know about you and Mr. Spock.
Bettina perks up and inserts her tits into the conversation. “I can’t imagine any friend of yours would need a matchmaker, Mason,” she says sweetly, pushing out her chest in my direction.
Normally, I’d be all over this woman like stink on shit. Maddie was right. She’s exactly my type.
Except my dick has zero interest. Less than zero. In fact, I think shrinkage is occurring as we speak.
I’d chalk it up to being in church, but I know my dick better than that. I could get it on in the Vatican in the middle of Christmas mass if I needed to.
Now I might not be a genius, but I know that if my dick is on strike, there’s only one reason.
And that reason is looking up at me and blinking her big brown eyes in shock.
She says, “But…” and glances at Bettina, who pounces on the opportunity.
“What a wonderful idea! Yes, let’s all do brunch together!”
That makes Waldine throw her head back and cackle like a witch.
The woman’s nuts.
Maddie’s expression darkens. She hesitates a moment, then lifts her chin in that stubborn way she does. Her lips thin, the hideous pink lipstick she favors doing nothing to reduce their full, feminine appeal.
Fuck, I’d like to bite those lips. I’d like to make them part on a moan.
A rush of heat to my head makes me dizzy.
“Ow!” Maddie pulls her arm from my grip, scowling at me.
“Shit, sorry,” I say breathlessly, trying to steady myself as I stare down at Maddie. She has little indents in her upper arm where my fingers dug into her flesh.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’m acting like a caveman!
Waldine cackles louder.
Robert clears his throat and says politely, “I’d love to call on you soon, Maddie, if you don’t mind? Maybe we could have lunch this week and catch up?”
Looking distracted as she rubs her arm, Maddie mutters, “Sure.”
He’s so pleased by that he almost levitates. When he shoots me a victorious glance, I smother the urge to punch him in his nose.
“Should we all take one car to brunch?” Bettina’s so happy she’s almost chirping.
Waldine says, “Oh, no, I can’t go. I’ve got the…” She hesitates, glancing at Maddie, who’s looking at her with big, pleading eyes. All Maddie gets is a grin before Waldine goes on. “The thing. That thing I always do on Sundays after church.”
“Thing?” says Maddie pointedly.
Waldine makes a queenly, dismissive gesture with her hand. I get the impression she has no idea what she does on Sundays after church but won’t admit it.
So it’s dementia. That explains a lot.
For some reason, Waldine’s dementia makes Maddie angry. Her eyes flash, her chin juts out farther, and she squares her shoulders like she’s about to ride off into war.
Angry Maddie is incredibly sexy.
I imagine her telling me off wearing nothing but a flimsy nightie, those brown eyes flashing at me instead of her crazy aunt.
When another wave of heat settles over me, Waldine snorts. She walks off without saying goodbye, chortling to herself, the big ostrich feathers on her hat bobbing as she goes.
“Is it safe to let her drive by herself?” I ask.