Page 86 of Serving the Mogul

Swallowing the knot in my throat, I sidestepped the question. “What do you mean? I talked to her the other day, and she sounded fine.” A small white lie and guilt twisted my guts inside out.

“It’s just…I talked to her earlier, and they’re not planning to come to the family picnic on the Fourth of July. She never misses it. Do you have any ideawhy?”

Dina…

I bit back what I wanted to say, but Iwouldtell Dina she was acting like a spoiled, bitchy brat, and she needed to stop.

“No, Mom. But I’ll talk to her, okay?”

“Tina, thank you.” Her sigh of relief made me feel worse.

“No problem. Listen, I need to eat something before my crew comes back.”

“Oh, of course! Make sure you’re taking care of yourself, okay. I love you.”

Putting my phone on the improvised table, I closed my eyes. Dina had never acted this way before. I couldn’t understand why she did so now. She had no right to punish our parents just because we were fighting. It had to stop. I wouldn’t let her hurting our mom just because she didn’t like the guy I was dating.

Datingdidn’t cover what was between James and me.

Just thinking of him made my heart quiver, and I smiled, welcoming a distraction from the ache inside.

“Tina?”

The sound of his voice right after thinking about him sent my quivering heart racing. Standing, I moved to the dusty railing and saw him in the lobby, holding a giant boutique-styled paper bag in one hand.

“Hi,” I called.

He looked up, and the smile he gave me turned my knees to putty.

He held up the bag and arched a brow. “Thought you might want some lunch?”

The name of a trendy Italian restaurant adorned the bag. Pursing my lips, I gave him a thoughtful look. “Well, Ididbring lunch. But a ham and cheese sandwich with chips sort of pales compared to La Rosa. Come on up.”

As he climbed the stairs, I grabbed the box of wet wipes I kept on hand and wiped one across my face hurriedly, then another across my neck and hands before clearing up some space on the makeshift desk.

“Where’s everybody at?” he asked, taking the other stool next to mine.

“They went to a food truck a couple of blocks away—Garcia knows the people who run it, and they’re trying to build up name recognition.”

James placed the bag on the table. “Have you had anything from there?”

“Yes.” Huffing out a breath, I placed a hand on my belly. “Food that good should be illegal. It’s a good thing they’re not on this street. I’d have to run 10 miles a day to burn off all the calories I’d be consuming.”

“What’s the name?” He pulled a couple of foil containers from the bag, checking the writing on the lids.

Cocking my head, I said, “Kabob Hob. Why?”

“I’ll tell my people to try it out. If they like it, I’ll have them post about it on our social media.” He glanced at me before returning to the task at hand.

Slipping off my stool, I went over to him and kissed his cheek.

He stilled.

“That’s nice of you.”

He put his hand on my hip and tugged me closer. “If it makes you smile like that, I’ll have my people hit every food truck in the city and post about them.”

Laughter bubbled out of me, and I hugged him, some of the stress inside me fading away under the pleasure of having him here.

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