Page 61 of As You Ice It

“Normally, I might try to tell you you’re too good for him,” Mike tells her, then cuts his eyes to me. “But he’s a pretty decent kid. No singing voice and zero rhythm, but otherwise, decent.”

A swell of emotion rises, and my gaze falls to my hands in my lap. Mike’s approval hits me in a visceral way, a warm wave that buoys me at first before I’m dragged under by unwelcome thoughts of my own father. Who probably doesn’t know or remember my lack of singing or dancing ability.

Who might suspect I’m a decent guy but not have any actual data points to be sure.

I’m vaguely aware of Naomi standing to give Mike a hug. By the time she turns and hugs a surprised Jordan, I’ve mostly shuttered up the thoughts of my family.

Jordan is a hugger. He squeezes Naomi back tightly, giving me a wicked smile over her shoulder, as if he knows I don’t like seeing him touch her. It’s probably written very clearly on my face. So, why hide it?

I glare at him.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again sometime soon,” Naomi tells Mike. “How long will you be in town?”

Confusion flashes quickly across Mike’s face, and he glances between Jordan and me. “I think …”

“A while,” Jordan answers quickly. “Ready for that malt?” Jordan gives Mike’s shoulder a squeeze and starts to move toward the front of the bistro.

“Absolutely.” Mike’s expression smooths out and he smiles once more at Naomi. “You’re welcome at our place anytime. But”—now he turns to me— “remember the house rules. No girls in the bedroom. Especially pretty ones.”

Jordan laughs. “You’ll have to remind me of the other house rules,” he says. “I think I forgot a few.”

“Will do. Important to keep these young guys in line. Speaking of which—and this is the last thing before we go—can you convince Camden to let me cut his hair?” he asks Naomi.

I swear, they arenevergoing to leave this restaurant. This extended conversation is making me twitchy. I’m starting to think this was a really terrible idea in the first place.

Naomi tilts her head a little, giving the top of my head a once-over. I want to squirm under her attention but force myself to be still.

“I kind of like the messy look,” she says. “But maybe a trim wouldn’t hurt.”

“I do a great job,” Mike says.

“He does,” I agree. During the time I lived with him, he was the only person who touched my hair with scissors. I still think he does better than anyone else I’ve found, no matter how much I pay now for a cut. “Can we talk about this later?”

“You could use one too,” Mike tells Jordan, who looks aghast and touches his ponytail protectively.

“Locks of Love would be able to make a beautiful wig,” I tell him, payback for the extended hug with Naomi.

“It would,” Naomi agrees, giving Jordan a little smirk.

He presses a hand to his chest in mock horror. “You two deserve each other. Let’s go, Mike. And if you so much as mention my hair again, I’m not stopping for that malt.”

As the two of them walk away, laughing and talking, Naomi’s sharp gaze lands on me, somehow at once both inquisitive and accusatory. But before she can ask one of what I’m sure are many questions in her mind, our waiter stops by, asking if we want dessert.

I order a cappuccino and Naomi does the same but also adds a chocolate raspberry cheesecake. The waiter clears our plates, and as soon as he’s out of earshot, Naomi leans forward, steepling her fingers together. She doesn’t ask a question. She just waits, which is almost worse.

Clearing my throat, I wipe my hands on the khaki pants Mike insisted I wear when he saw me in jeans. “Can’t wear jeans for a date,” he’d said.

“Did I say it was a date?” I asked.

“No, but your nerves did.” He was right. Though I wish I’d gone with jeans. I don’t get the feeling Naomi cares about my pants.

Right now, for instance, she’s more concerned with the very confusing scenario I just dropped her into.

“You met Mike.” Not a great way to start, and Naomi seems to agree, giving me the smallest of eye rolls.

“I did meet him. And Jordan. Your … assistant?”

“Not quite.” I take a sip of my water while Naomi waits. “He’s actually a caregiver I hired who helps out with Mike when I’m not home. You might have noticed a few times, but Mike has early-onset dementia. He’s not aware anything’s wrong—at least most of the time. But his short-term memory is very affected, and he kind of bounces back and forth between the present and the past.”

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