Wicked Force (Wicked Horse Vegas #4.5)(9)

His gaze lifts and he stares at me in this way that says he’s glad I started a conversation.

At least that’s what I think it means. So, I blurt, “I mean... where are you from? How old are you? Are you married?”

The corners of Kynan’s mouth curve upward at my last question, and I can tell that for some reason, he’s pleased with that level of curiosity. Still, he doesn’t satisfy me because he merely says, “I was in the Royal Marines and served in Afghanistan with Jerico Jameson. He just started up this company a few months ago and hired me to work with him.”

Hmmm... that sounds sexy and hot but leaves me hanging.

“I’d say you’re... twenty-four?” I press.

“Twenty-six,” he says and then lays out five tiles to spell out B-O-U-N-C-E vertically from my lame-ass word B-E-A-R.

“And your wife’s name?” I ask sweetly, because he’s making me work for it and he’s enjoying making me work for it.

“No wife,” he says as he refills his tile holder thingy.

My mind races to the next level of personal questions I can ask him, but he turns serious again. His eyes are focused and intent. “Your mom was right in hiring a security company for you. You’ve drawn enough attention in the Vegas area to be considered one of their superstars. You know that, right?”

I’m flattered and frazzled all at once. He clearly researched me, but he also thinks way too highly of me. I don’t want to believe those things he saying about me, because I still struggle with confidence in my abilities on a daily basis.

So I deflect by saying something that truly surprises me. “She’s not my mom but my stepmom.”

Kynan blinks at me in surprise and my face flushes with awful guilt for reducing her down. I hold my hands out. “I didn’t mean that in the bad way it sounded. Of course, she’s my mom through and through. Raised me since I was six and I love her dearly.”

My words trail off and Kynan just watches me. I feel like a bug under a microscope with a hot glaring light just overhead to illuminate the worst of my flaws.

“I’m not sure why I felt the need to distinguish her that way,” I murmur as my gaze falls to the board. “It makes me sound like an ungrateful brat.”

“It makes it sound like there are times in your life that you need to categorize her,” he replies and my head pops up in surprise. “She wears different hats. She’s a mother and your business manager. They are two different things and I bet they often conflict.”

I nod stupidly, because yes... THAT exactly.

“And I expect,” Kynan continues on, “that when she might be failing a bit on the mom side, and perhaps becoming a little overbearing on the manager side—say for example hiring a security firm that you don’t believe is necessary—you need to have her be just a stepmom so you can express your anger and frustration a bit.”

Again... more nodding with my mouth hanging open.

Kynan smiles at me. “I didn’t take what you said to be ungrateful or bratty in any way. I think your relationship with your mom is complex but I’ve seen the way you look at her and talk to her. I know you love her. You have nothing to prove to me.”

Is this guy a security professional or a psychologist, because I think he just boiled down all my frustrations into something that actually sounds acceptable to my conscience?

With a sigh, I sit back on the couch. “I’m not sure when it happened, but at some point, she wasn’t satisfied with just managing the business side of my career. Now she wants to control all of me.”

“How so?” Kynan asks as he puts his elbows to his knees and clasps his hands together. The game has been forgotten and now we’re just conversing.

“She tells me what to eat, what to drink, where to go, where I can’t go, how much to exercise, what clothes to wear, and who I can have for friends. I can’t go out and have fun because it’s too dangerous or I could fall in with the wrong people, and frankly... part of the reason she hired your company was to just add a babysitter on me. She doesn’t even want me to have any say-so on the type of jobs I take on. It’s like my opinion just doesn’t matter.”

“You’re an adult,” Kynan says and the deep timbre of his voice gives me a slight shiver. Acknowledging he doesn’t see me as still a teenager, which technically I am. “Why do you let her control you that way?”

“Because she’s done so much for me that was good, both for my career and as a mom. She took care of my father when he died a slow cancerous death.”

Kynan winces. “I’m sorry. When was that?”

Smiling through the sadness, I murmur. “Almost two years ago. And like I said... when my album didn’t do as well as we’d hoped, she landed me this amazing deal here in Vegas. A stepping stone is what she calls it, to bigger and better things.”

“Is that what you want? Bigger and better?”

My shrug is slow and without indifference, more of an indication that sometimes I’m not sure I know what I really want. Except for one thing. “I just want to sing. That’s all.”

Kynan smiles at me and my heart skips a beat. “It’s a good priority, Joslyn.”

Hearing him say my name makes my skin prickle, or maybe it’s the way he’s staring at me so intently from across the table. He makes me feel completely stripped and bare, causing me to self-consciously wrap my arms around my stomach.