“Tac?” Moya parrots. “Who’s Tac?”
“Oh, just a man trying to woo me.” Lainey rolls her eyes dramatically. “He’s a bit of a cling-on, to be honest.”
I cough over my beer, quickly placing it on the table and grabbing a napkin to wipe my chin. But I keep my other hand on Lainey’s knee, tightening my grip to the point she’s shifting in her chair. “A cling-on?” I chance a look at her, finding she’s straight-faced with no hint that she’s in any discomfort. And she must be. My fingertips are becoming numb from my grip of her thigh. “I’ve had a few of those in my time,” I mutter.
“I bet.” Moya laughs. “You manwhore, you. How many women have had the honor? Roughly?”
Sal coughs over his Scotch. “I don’t think this a conversation to have in front of an employee or our daughter.”
“Agree,” I pipe in.
“Oh,” Moya laughs. “Mia doesn’t understand, do you, darling? And I’m sure Lainey doesn’t mind getting to know her bosses a little better, do you, Lainey?”
The poor woman looks mortified. This. Is. Fucking. Hideous. But then Lainey seems to straighten her shoulders in a show of strength. “I’m not adverse to a bit of controversy around the dinner table.”
“See?” Moya smiles. “So, how many, Ty?”
I blow out air, flicking my wary eyes to my mate, who looks like he’s in total despair. “Well,” I cough my throat clear, dropping my voice to a whisper. Truth be told, I dare not challenge Moya. She’s scaring me tonight. “Working on averages, I guess . . . fuck!” I yelp, my knee, which currently has some pretty sharp fingernails sunk into it, smacking the underside of the table.
“Uncle Ty!” Mia gasps.
“Tyler!” Moya scorns.
“For God’s sake, Ty!” Sal shouts.
And Lainey? Lainey just smirks at her beef and releases me from her evil clutches. Fuck, that hurt. And . . . seriously? I’m getting ridiculed from all directions for a tiny slip-up, when Moya’s striking up inappropriate conversations over dinner? “Sorry, Mia,” I mumble, turning my attention to the little girl. “Uncle Ty is a bad, bad boy.”
“What’s a manwhore?” she asks innocently.
I recoil and look to Moya. “Over to you.” I fill my mouth quickly so I can’t be forced to talk or say something stupid. Like tell Lainey, out loud, what I plan on doing to her later. It involves my palm and her arse. Damn, I’m not sure what’s most uncomfortable. My stinging thigh, the dreadful atmosphere, or my swollen dick. And then a hand lands in my crotch, and I conclude very quickly that it’s the latter. It’s definitely the latter.
She’ll pay for this.
Dearly.
An hour later, I’m still hungry, but eating without being sure I won’t choke was a risk I wasn’t prepared to take. Lainey has driven me to insanity, nearly pushing me to declare our status, just so I can ravish her publicly. Or maybe even smack her arse. Hard.
“Can I go play now?” Mia asks, pushing her plate away. “I’ve eaten all my greens.”
“Yes, darling,” Moya says, looking at Lainey as Mia bolts off into the garden. “What have you done with my daughter?”
“It’s a miracle,” Sal breathes.
Lainey shrugs one shoulder dismissively. “She’s so bright. And a great listener.”
“Someone needs to be.” Moya directs an accusing glare at Sal as she starts to clear the table, heading for the kitchen.
What the fuck is going on? This is not the woman I’ve known for over twenty years. Moya has always been the life of the party, someone fun and energetic. I’ve never heard her use such venom when talking to or about Sal. I’m confused as fuck.
“I’d better help,” Sal mutters, rising and grabbing a few plates.
I tip my beer to my lips and guzzle down the rest as he follows his wife into the kitchen. “How much pain are you in?” I ask Lainey quietly.
“Agony.”
She smiles softly at me, but I’m robbed of the lovely sight when Mia runs back into the room. “Uncle Ty?” she says sweetly, climbing up the side of my chair to get on my lap.
“What’s up, Mia?”
“Are you and Lainey boyfriend and girlfriend?”
I balk at her serious little face. “What made you ask that?”
“You were touching each other under the table.”
It turns out I don’t need any food in my mouth to choke. I start coughing all over the table, swinging wide eyes to Lainey.
She’s quick to come to my rescue. “We weren’t touching under the table, Mia,” she placates gently.
“Yes, you were. I dropped my napkin and saw . . .” She starts giggling. “I saw your hand on Uncle Ty’s dinky.”
More choking, except this time I can’t seem to catch a breath through it. I look to Lainey, seeing equal panic in her eyes, though she gathers herself quickly. “Oh,” she says, like enlightenment has just struck her. “You mean when he dropped a pea on his lap.” She shakes her head, laughing. “I was brushing it off, darling. That’s all.”
Mia looks up at me and rolls her eyes, as if disappointed with me. “Uncle Ty, I need to get you one of my old bibs. Mummy kept them, but I haven’t had to wear one since I was three. How old are you, Uncle Ty?”
“Older than you,” I say, thanking everything for Lainey’s quick mind.
“Thirty-seven,” Lainey jumps in.
“Hey,” I yell.
“That’s old.” Mia looks nothing short of disgusted. “You’re even older than Daddy.” She jumps off my lap and runs away.
“Only by a few months,” I yell after her. “He’s thirty-seven soon. And I’m much better looking than your daddy.”
Lainey falls forward onto the table, laughing.
“I don’t know what you’re finding so funny,” I grumble. “You’re screwing this old man.”
“What was that?” Sal asks, appearing at the doorway and wandering toward us. Lainey shoots up from the table, bolt upright in her chair.
“We were just discussing politics.” I force sureness and eliminate my growing panic.
“Not in this house,” Sal warns, finger wagging at me. “I row enough with my wife already. Let’s not start another.”
Lainey gives me a fleeting appreciative look out the corner of her eye, and I relax in my chair. She’s not the only quick-thinking one around here.
Moya joins us, more red wine in her glass, and I tip my bottle at her. “Dinner was lovely.”
“Yes, lovely,” Lainey agrees.
“Thank you.” She plants her bum on a chair and looks to Sal. “It’s Mia’s bedtime.”
Sal’s head drops, defeated before he’s been defeated. “Oh, joy.” He pushes his chair away from the table sluggishly as he downs the rest of his Scotch, searching for some strength in that glass. “If I’m not back in five minutes, come rescue me.”
Lainey and I both laugh lightly as he drags his heavy body into the garden, calling his daughter.
It takes just thirty seconds for the commotion to start, and thirty more seconds for Sal to get Mia from the trampoline to the door, screaming bloody murder. “I’m not going to bed,” she howls, wriggling fiercely in Sal’s arms.