Beneath the Scars (Masters of the Shadowlands #13)(39)

When the boy set his soda on the table, Holt noticed the dark bruises on his face, arms, and neck. “You catch grief at school about the bruises?”

“Yeah,” Carson muttered. “The teachers asked. And some of the guys.”

“Guys? Not friends?”

The kid’s brows drew together. “My best friend’s only in one class with me now. I didn’t even see him today. An’ a lot of my other friends—I don’t see them.”

“You lost me. Why?”

Carson shrugged. “When we got into middle school, half my friends went to other schools. The rest who’re at my school take different classes and eat lunch at other times.”

Holt tried to remember middle school, but that was about when he’d been running drugs at his aunt’s and then he and Aunt Rita had been homeless…with no school at all. “Sounds like you’re going to have to find new friends.”

“Yeah.” After a heavy sigh, Carson brightened. “Brandon an’ Yukio are okay. Not total losers, you know. Gamers an’ stuff.”

“That’s a start.” Smiling, Holt rose. “C’mon. Let’s see if we can get Zuri’s old lawn mower started.”

*

That evening, as Holt and Carson discussed Xbox games, Josie leaned back in her chair with a pleased sigh. Her impromptu supper had gone nicely, hadn’t it?

Maybe life would settle down now.

After Carson had left for school this morning, she’d written an excellent fight scene by channeling her fear from last night into her heroine. The chapter had been bloody and scary…and the evil reptilian attackers had lost.

And hey, she’d been able to describe the sights, sounds, and feeling of hitting someone with a rock quite authentically.

When Carson had returned from school, they’d talked, gotten everything out, and she’d sent him off to work for Holt.

In the quiet house, she’d tried to dispel her lingering anger and fear with a cooking marathon. The enormous amount of food had reminded her of her own debt to pay, and she’d sent Carson over to offer Holt a neighborly invitation.

That, perhaps, hadn’t been the…wisest idea. Sure, she had a debt to pay, but after last night’s off the scale, erotic dreams, she was having trouble remembering Holt was a neighbor and that she didn’t date or…anything. It sure didn’t help that he was a more muscular, much smarter version of Thor, and that his darkly masculine laugh could make her heart skip beats.

You’re being a weak female, Josephine. With a silent sigh, she turned to watch him.

On her right, he’d leaned a thick forearm on the table as he and her boy argued about a gaming technique. His blue-gray, button-up shirt matched his eyes so perfectly she’d bet Uzuri—a Brendall’s fashion buyer—had bought it for him. He sat close enough his muscular shoulder occasionally brushed against hers.

She got a hot tingle every time.

He caught her staring and captured her gaze with a long look. When he finally smiled, she had to remind herself to breathe. Honestly, Josie.

Forcing her gaze away, she tried to study her dining room. She’d dressed the table with a white tablecloth, and her dark red stoneware looked festive—and reminded her she and Carson needed to buy a Christmas tree and figure out which boxes held holiday decorations. Tomorrow, for sure.

The room needed a lot of work though. Boxes needing to be unpacked were stacked in the corners. The sickly pale green walls and trim needed new paint. But the beautiful antique chandelier softened the ugly hue…and brought out the sun streaks in Holt’s caramel-colored hair.

Good God, she was back to staring at him. Stop.

“Mom, I’m finished. May I be excused?”

Ah, wasn’t it awesome when her son actually used the manners she’d tried to teach him? Josie smiled. “Sure. Do you have homework?”

“Of course,” he grumbled. “I know—do it first.”

“Good plan. Don’t forget your dishes.”

With a heavy sigh, Carson picked up his plate and silverware and trudged to the kitchen as if the chore required all his strength.

Holt chuckled. “Makes me want to talk about how I suffered when I was his age and how easy kids today have it.”

“I know, right? Only I didn’t, really. Now Gramps, he boasted about having to walk across town to school because the school bus was only for the ranch children, not anyone inside the town limits.”

“Ah, one of those. He had to struggle through snow drifts up to his waist, right?”

“In Texas?” She gave him an outraged look. “The cattle would have heart failure.”

“There is that.” He grinned. “I knew that was a Texas accent I was hearing.”

“Accent?” She scowled. Dammit, she’d been sure she’d lost it years ago.

“Yes, pet, you have a pretty Texas drawl.”

She could feel herself flush at the compliment.

With a slow smile, he ran a finger down her hot cheek.

“Done, Mom. See you, Holt.” Cookie in hand, Carson headed for his bedroom and homework.

In the now silent dining room, Josie settled back in her chair and eyed the man beside her. The one she barely knew. “I just realized I don’t know your name. Is Holt a nickname?”

“Last name. My first name is Alexander.”