“He said you were backstage with the band Mouth2Mouth. They were in the news last year when their road manager went to prison. Is he a friend of yours, too?”
“Maman!”
“No, he’s not a friend of mine,” Ice answered curtly.
“You didn’t meet him in the prison where you took my daughter hostage?”
“No. He must have been in a different one.” Ice finished his beer, standing up. “I enjoyed the food, but I better head back.”
As Ice walked to the door instead of the living room after they finished dessert, Grace followed behind him unhappily.
“Goodbye,” he told her mother shortly, which her mother ignored, going to sit on the couch to give them a moment of privacy.
Ice pulled her out the front door, closing it behind them. “Sorry, baby, but I thought it was better if I leave before I say something I shouldn’t.”
“You could have tried harder, Ice. She’s still upset about the prison riot.”
“She wouldn’t like me, regardless. I’m not the type of man she ever thought you would bring home to meet her. I bet she would fucking love Jones.”
“I don’t,” she said, reaching out to play with the patch on the front of his leather vest. “Would it have killed you to have dressed up a little?”
Ice went stiff. “You want me to pretend to be someone I’m not?”
Grace’s heart ached as her hand dropped away. “No. I haven’t asked you to change anything about yourself. You expect me to wait on you like the women at your club, and I don’t mind it, because I like making you happy. I go to the club and stay with you and hang out with your friends, even though one of them humiliated me and none of them want me to be with you, because I don’t fit in, but I do it to make you happy. I wear jeans and tops I usually just wear around the house, but I wear them to make you happy. It would be nice if you did the same for me once to make me happy and keep my mother from spending the next few days asking why I’m with you.”
Ice stared down at her, frowning. “You’re mad at me.”
Grace sighed, aggravated. “Never mind, Ice. I’ll give you a call when my mother leaves.” She put her hand on the doorknob.
Ice put his hand on the nape of her neck, turning her back around to face him. “I can’t come tonight—I have some business to take care of—but I’ll be here tomorrow night. Your mother and I will work it out, like me and the rest of your family will, because I’m sure we all want to make you happy.”
Her head fell against his chest, breathing in his scent.
“Do me a favor and tell her to lay off all the prison references.”
“I’ll try.” That was easier said than done with her outspoken mother.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then, and I better have a chocolate cake waiting for me.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
* * *
The next night, Grace was much wiser and invited CeCe and a date to dinner to lighten the atmosphere. Her mother was getting dressed, and she was putting the last touches on Ice’s cake when she heard his motorcycle pulling into her driveway.
She met him at the door, watching as he got off his bike, taking off his jacket. She bit her lip to keep from smiling widely at his appearance.
While he wasn’t wearing slacks, he had donned a pair of expensive jeans and new boots. His shirt was casual, but at least it wasn’t a T-shirt. He took a comb from his pocket and ran it through his hair, combing it back from his face.
“Happy?” he asked as he walked toward her.
“Ecstatic,” she said, jumping into his arms to plant a kiss on his lips.
They were both smiling and laughing when her mother came into the kitchen. Grace was trying unsuccessfully to keep Ice away from the cake while she finished dinner. Grace’s mother greeted Ice coolly before pouring herself a large glass of wine.
“How are the ribs?” her mother asked, sniffing the air appreciably.
“Almost done,” Grace said, peeling away the foil. “The barbeque sauce is ready and so are the vegetables.” She put the ribs back into the oven to stay warm, taking the corn muffins out and placing them on the counter to cool.
Ice’s hand immediately went to them.
“Don’t you dare,” Grace scolded, smacking his hand. “You’ll eat them all before we even sit down for dinner.”
Her mother watched for Ice’s reaction.
“You could always make another batch,” Ice suggested, snagging her around the waist to pull her to him, kissing her lightly on the cheek while his hand went behind her back to snag a muffin.
“Fuck.” He pulled his hand back sharply, staring at her mother who had smacked his hand like a five year old.