Page 48 of Beautiful, Violent

She smiles sadly, hugs me, and I feel an instant connection to her. “Thank you so much. And yeah, I’m sure he misses Ethan too. God knows I do. I miss him like crazy.”

“Frances! Where are the extra paper plates?” Don Juan calls from the back patio door.

She breaks the hug and looks in his direction. “Above the fuh-riiiidge!” When she turns back to me and shakes her head in shame, I’m in a stupor.

If Ethan is her son, then who is Mason?

“I’ve told that fucker a million times where the plates are. God a’mighty. Come on in and let’s get some grub, girl.”

Ben navigates to a corner of the living room, sitting at a small, plastic kid’s table and motioning for me to join him. He shoves a few books aside so I can put my plate down.

“Your sister’s really cool,” I say, stabbing some potato salad while eyeing a book on weird science facts for the middle schooler.

“Yeah. She’s crazy but fun.”

“And you guys just met seven years ago?”

He nods, tearing into a piece of chicken with the ferocity of a rabid wolf. His plate is piled with more food than I eat in a day. Man has an appetite. I mean damn. I know he’s big and all, but I’ll bet his grocery bill is astronomic.

“How’d you find out about her?”

“My dad told me, on his deathbed. Says he didn’t want me going the rest of my life not knowing he had a kid with someone else. He never was there for her. Not that he was really all thattherefor me. But at least I knew him.”

“Hmm. And your mom?”

“Never met her.”

“Is she … still alive?”

He gives me a look that suggests my question is too morbid for a first date. It probably is. Like I said, not good at this. I have to keep reminding myself I’m on a date, not working.

“No idea. She left after I was born, and my dad raised me from birth.” He licks his fingers, points his eyes at me. “What about you?”

I clear my throat. “My mom died when I was a little girl. Dad is still around. We’re really close. He’s in Phoenix.”

“If you two are so close why move away?”

This is the first question he’s proposed that forces me to dig deep. Only I’m not digging deep for the truth, but rather a lie.

“Always had saltwater running through my veins. I’ve wanted to live near the Pacific for as long as I can remember. Now that I’m twenty-one and have a good career, I figure, why not? It’s close enough that I can go home anytime I want.”

“Saltwater running through your veins, huh?” He pulls my hand across the table and runs his thumb over the inside of my wrist. My pulse thrums under his touch. I can feel it as he looks down at the blue lines in my skin. “So if you were to cut yourself and I ran out of salt, I could just … hold you over my food?”

My insides tumble, not just at his words but the way he’s looking at me. Which confirms, he’s just as dangerous as I expected. More dangerous, actually. Why does that excite me?

“Umm …”

His face pulls into a smirk and he lets my hand go. “I’m just messing with you.”

“Yeah. I know.” I force a smile.

“Frenchie … when I’d bug her about moving to Arizona, she’d pop off with shit like that, telling me her heart and soul belongs to the sea.”

I point my fork at him. “Relatable.”

“We can leave here early if you want, head back to Malibu and take a walk on the beach, check out the coves. If you haven’t done that already.”

“I haven’t. But hey, you don’t have any other friends who’re coming? I wouldn’t want you to skip out early just to take me for a beach walk.”

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