Fatal Strike (McClouds & Friends #10)(65)

That was such an odd request, she was taken aback. “Uh, sure.”

“I need to distract myself.” He lifted the comforter, tossed it up over her naked body. “Cover your chest. The view melts my brain, and I’m going to need my brains to make this call.”

“Who are you calling?” she asked.

He shot her a dour look. “My mother.”

That startled a peal of laughter out of her. “You’re kidding. Now?”

“Don’t think I’m one of those guys,” he said, defensive. “It’s just that I haven’t spoken to her in weeks. Not since I lit out camping. She’s out of her mind with worry, or so they tell me, and I felt really bad about it, but I just couldn’t talk to her. Not in the shape I was in.”

“Then why now?”

He frowned. “I don’t know. I guess because, for whatever reason, now I can. And if I can, then I damn well should. I promise, I’ll make it short. I just have to catch the impulse, before I lose my nerve.”

“Go on, then,” she urged. “Want me to leave? For privacy?”

He looked shocked at the idea. “Hell, no! This is your room. Stay right where you are. Don’t even move. Unless it’s to eat.” He picked at the keyboard, and turned, giving her a perfect opportunity to admire the muscles in his back. The astonishingly perfect shape of his ass.

“Hey,” he said, his voice uncertain. “Mom? . . . yeah, it’s me . . . oh, God, Mom, please, don’t.” There was a long pause, then he spoke again. “I know. I’m sorry. Sean told me he talked to you, and that you . . . yeah. I was busy . . . yeah, I know. No, it’s not an excuse. There was this girl in trouble, and I . . . yeah, that’s what I said. A girl . . .” He shot a grin over his shoulder at her. “Her name is Lara. She’s an artist. Yeah . . . it was tricky. Of course I was careful.” He listened patiently for a moment, and she could see, though his face was turned away, that he was grinning. “Yes, she’s a nice girl . . . yeah, pretty, too.” His gaze darted to her. “Beautiful, actually. Sure, first chance I get . . . don’t know yet, Mom. Things are dicey, and I have to . . . yeah, but . . .” He held the phone away from his ear, frowning. “Yes, she is, but she’s just gotten out of a bad situation, and now is not the time to ask her to . . . no, Mom! Not a chance!”

Lara could hear the shrill, tinny lecture from across the room.

He turned, gave her a dismayed look.

Lara felt her lips twitch. “She wants to talk to me?”

“You don’t have to, for God’s sake,” he said. “Don’t sweat it.”

“What’s her name?” Lara asked.

“Helen Davenport,” he said.

“Is she nice?” she asked.

He looked puzzled. “Of course she’s nice. She’s my mom.”

Lara held out her hand, on impulse. “I haven’t heard a nice woman’s voice in months,” she said. “Give me that phone.”

Miles handed it to her without a word.

She held it to her ear, marveling at how familiar and unfamiliar the heavy little device felt in her hand. “This is Lara. Mrs. Davenport?”

“Lara?” The older woman’s voice was distorted with tears. “Hello. I’m sorry to put you on the spot like this, honey.”

“That’s okay,” she said.

“I just can’t seem to stop crying. I’m so emotional right now. It’s been so long since I heard his voice, you see.”

“Of course,” she said. “I’ve been doing a lot of that myself today.”

Helen Davenport forced brightness into her tone. “So. Miles tells me you’re an artist.”

“Yes, that’s right,” she said. “A sculptor.”

“That’s wonderful! How creative of you. And you go to art school?”

“Not lately,” she said. “I was in some really bad trouble. But Miles saved me.”

“Did he, now?” The woman’s voice sharpened.

“Yes, he did. He was incredibly brave,” Lara told her. “And so smart. He was amazing. You should be very proud.”

“Oh, I am. I am.” The woman’s voice dissolved again.

“Oh, please. That is enough of that shit,” Miles snapped, twitching the phone out of her hand. He held it to his ear. “Me again, Mom . . . no way! You cannot talk to her anymore . . . as soon as I know what’s going on. Hanging up now, Mom. I love you. Hanging up, okay? Yes . . of course I’ll call again. Yeah. Love you, too. Give Dad a hug. Yeah . . . hanging up for real, Mom. Yeah. Bye.”

Hs hand dropped. He blew out a long breath, and sat down heavily onto the bed. “Wow,” he said. “That was intense.”

“Pretty much,” she agreed.

He set the phone down on the bedside table. “Thanks,” he said.

She shook her head, tried to smile. Mostly failing.

“She can’t wait to meet you,” he added. “She’s going to love you. My dad, too.”

That did it. Too much cheerful normalcy on an empty stomach.

“My mother would have loved you, too.” Her voice cracked.

Miles’ gaze whipped over to her, alarmed. She looked down at her lap. Her face was shaking. About to melt right off.