Page 31 of Skin Deep

“Mine,” he agreed, watching her carefully, “and my family’s.”

“What?” Startled, Amy pulled back from him completely. “Why on earth would you want me to have dinner with your family?”

She looked into his face, searching for a sign that he was kidding. He was not.

“I was under the impression that there’s something between us, here. Something bigger than I’ve ever felt before.” He narrowed his eyes. “I want my family to meet you.”

“Fred. You can’t be serious.” She shook her head as panic bubbled up in her gut.

“Of course I’m serious.” He seemed taken aback by her reaction, and frustration followed her panic. “Why would I joke about this?”

“Your family owns this mall,” she reminded him, planting her hands on her hips. “They’re the ones trying to kick me out.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Reaching out, he rubbed his hands up and down her upper arms. “That won’t come up tonight. You’ll be there strictly as my...my...”

“Your what?” Temper heated her words. She was getting whiplash from her own emotions. “The woman you were supposed to tell to shape up or ship out? The one you also happen to be fucking? Do they know that, by the way? Is that why Frank was in here? To keep an eye on me?”

“That’s not fair.” His voice was quiet. “I was a part of my family before I ever met you. Part of being a Vaughan means participating in the family business. Of course I said I’d deliver that letter. I had no idea I was supposed to deliver it to you.”

“Well, now you know.” She tapped a foot on the floor, trying to release some of her pent-up energy. “And I assume they do, too. What do you think will happen tonight? I show up to dinner, and they’re going to think I’m sleeping with you to keep my retail space. Or worse. They’ll think I’m a gold digger.”

“Amy.” His voice was filled with frustration. “I get that it’s not an ideal situation, but that’s part of the reason I want them to meet you, to spend some time with you. I know once they get to know you, they’ll see that that petition was ridiculous. That you should stay.”

“I’m not going to beg them.” A dart of hurt burrowed its way into her chest. “If they can’t see what I bring, then they don’t deserve to have me.”

“No one expects you to beg.” This time his voice dripped with frustration. “Give me a break here, would you? I want you to come to dinner so that my family can meet you, end of story. Come have a nice meal and let them meet the woman in my life. I’m sure they’re going to be as wowed by you as I am. And if that affects their thoughts on that petition, that’s just a bonus. Okay?”

Amy sucked a breath in through her nose, her temper still sharp. She was under no delusions here.

That petition was essentially a piece of paper that the other vendors of the plaza had signed to say that Amy didn’t fit in and they didn’t want her there. Not nice, but also not surprising—Amy had never fit in anywhere, and usually she was fine with that. What had surprised her about this whole nonsense was the fact that Vaughan Enterprises—the company made up of Fred’s family—had looked at what was essentially an opinion and had acted on it. They’d issued her a warning telling her to conform, to toe the line, while ignoring the fact that she had just as much right to be there as anyone else. More, if they’d stopped to examine just what she brought to the table.

This meant that the company, and Fred’s family, was very concerned with image. She looked down at her right hand, with the four roses tattooed along her knuckles, and knew that she did not fit their aesthetic. She never would.

She shouldn’t go. It would only end in heartbreak.

“Please?” Closing the distance between them again, Fred squeezed her shoulders gently as he looked down at her beseechingly. “It would mean a lot to me. Okay?”

After a long pause, she nodded once, a jerk of her chin. The moment she did, she knew that she was going to regret it, but Fred’s smile chased away the chill.

Fine. She’d go have dinner with his parents. But she wasn’t going to pretend to be anyone but herself.

Four hours later, Amy drummed her fingers on the gold-flecked vinyl countertop in the bathroom she shared with Jo.

“Stop fidgeting,” Meg insisted as she wound another lock of Amy’s fine hair around the barrel of her curling iron. “You’re going to get burned.”

“Sorry.” Amy slid her hands beneath her butt to keep them still. She was seated on the closed lid of the toilet as her eldest sister worked on her hair. “Better?”

“It would be better if you told me why you were so nervous.” Finished with the curling iron, Meg set it on a silicone mat on the counter, then picked up an aerosol can of hairspray. “Close your eyes.”

Amy did, waiting for Meg to finish spraying before she spoke again. “I’m not nervous.”

“Pants on fire,” Meg replied around the bobby pin in her mouth. “I just watched you brush your teeth for the third time because you forgot you’d already done it twice.”

Amy scowled as Meg ran her fingers through the curls she’d just created, then pinned a piece back with the bobby pin. “I’m not... It’s not that I’m scared to meet them, exactly.”

“Close your eyes.” Satisfied with the hair, Meg waved a mascara wand in the air. “What is it, then?”

“I already know there’s a really good chance that they’re not going to like me. I’m not their kind of person.” Amy held perfectly still, felt Meg brushing the liquid onto her eyelashes as she tried to put it into words. “That doesn’t bother me, much. It’s more that... shit. I don’t know how to say it.”

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