“You know a lot about the kid for someone who hasn’t been on a date,” I half teased.
Lexie furrowed her brows. “Yes, because we talked first. Had actual conversations. Became friends. Isn’t that what you taught me to do?”
Drat. I did teach her that. “Take a chill pill, dude, I was only teasing. Let’s move on to the most important question.”
Lexie eyed me. “What?” she asked with suspicion.
“What are you wearing?”
It was safe to say I wasn’t happy about Lexie’s date. I was far from it. But I couldn’t tell her whom she could and couldn’t date. Well, technically I could since I was her mother, but I knew what doing something like that would do. Not only distance me from her, but possibly rock the peaceful relationship I had with her and turn a good kid into a hellion. I’d seen it happen with girls I’d been to high school with. The stricter the parents, the more they rebelled. The only difference was the parents didn’t know a thing. I didn’t want Lexie to lie to me, so I knew I couldn’t stifle her with rules or else it would bite me in the ass. And she was a good kid. I trusted her. It was the little punk in the leather jacket I didn’t trust. So when he knocked on the door later that night, my stomach was swirling. Lexie came running into the kitchen.
“I’m not ready I’m not ready,” she chanted, hopping on one foot. “Answer the door, Mom. Stall him,” she ordered, racing back into her room.
I was glad for this turn of events. When I opened the door, Killian turned from staring over at Zane’s house to face me. He was clad in jeans, motorcycle boots, a Grateful Dead t-shirt and a leather jacket. It was hot as hell outside. Obviously hot guys and teenagers alike were impervious to frivolous things such as climate.
“Hey Mrs. Spencer,” he greeted respectfully.
“Killian, come in.” I gestured inside. “Lexie’s not ready yet.”
He walked through and followed me to the sofa. His demeanor was casual, relaxed; he didn’t seem like a nervous teenage boy before a date. Then again, he wasn’t dealing with a shotgun-toting father.
“Can I get you anything? Coke?” I offered, trying to swallow the dislike I had for him.
He shook his head. “I’m good, thanks, Mrs. Spencer.”
I moved to sit opposite him. “Call me Mia,” I said.
He nodded but didn’t speak.
I decided to go right in for the kill. “I trust Lexie,” I started evenly. “I know she’s a smart kid. That’s why I’m not going to lecture with rules and curfews. She knows them all, she’ll respect them,” I said, glancing to make sure Lexie hadn’t arrived. “But you hurt her…make no mistake, I’ll kill you. Not in the figurative I’ll shout at you a bit and maybe call your parents type of way, but in a straight up murder type of way. No one will find the body,” I told him seriously.
Of course, I would never murder a teenager. But Lexie didn’t have the gun-toting father, so I had to make up for it somehow.
To my surprise, the bad boy nodded quickly. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Mia. Lexie’s special. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, just so you know,” he told me sincerely.
And damn it if I didn’t believe him.
His eyes moved from mine as if he had some kind of sixth sense, and he stood. Lexie stood in the doorway looking beautiful. Her hair was plaited into a fishtail and her face was lightly made up with a dusting of pink lip gloss. She had on her lightest pair of skinny jeans and a fitted floral blouse, which had huge bell sleeves and a slightly plunging neckline. She was wearing my wedges and I felt a pang at how grown up she looked.
“Freckles,” Killian muttered, looking her up and down, “You’re beautiful.”
Lexie blushed bright red.
I didn’t blame her. The big, bad, leather-wearing, smoking teenager spoke softly and called her beautiful, in front of her mother no less. I’d be blushing too.
He moved to her and grabbed her hand. His eyes reluctantly moved to me.
“Have her home by ten, Mia,” he promised before directing them out the door. Lexie gave me a little wave and then they were gone. I sank down into my chair and tried not to cry. I picked up the phone.
“Lexie’s just gone on a date,” I greeted as soon as Ava answered. I didn’t give her time to respond. “And I want to hate him. He rides a motorcycle, smokes cigarettes and practically has Dangerous tattooed on his forehead. But he’s polite and is clearly obsessed with my daughter,” I groaned into the phone. “I’m torn between wanting to run him over with my car or be happy for them.”
Ava laughed. “Sweetheart, you are going through what every mother goes through. Whether they’re wearing leather or plaid, you’re always going to instinctively dislike your daughter’s first boyfriend.” She paused, and I knew she was remembering her own daughter, who she lost to a drink driver at seventeen. “But our Lexie’s a good girl. A smart girl. She would pick the right boy,” she said with a slight tremble in her voice.
“But I didn’t,” I half whispered. “I thought I was a smart girl—look what happened to me. Thank God it did happen because I got Lexie, but what if that happens to her?” I told the only woman I could talk to my greatest fear, tears welling in my eyes.
“Oh sweetie,” Ava said softly. “You were a baby. Not only that, you had parents that didn’t take care of you the way they should.” Her voice held a hint of anger. “Your parents were animals. You sought affection and solace in the one place you found it. That doesn’t make you bad or weak. Only human. You got out of there, made a life. Made Lexie a life. You’re strong, sweetie. You’ve got a strong daughter. We’re so proud of you.” Her voice cracked again and my tears really threatened to fall. “Lexie has such a good role model, she’d never have to blindly seek acceptance like a scared little one we knew. Trust her, be there for her, and make sure you keep a loaded shotgun under the bed, just in case,” she added lightly.