Page 218 of Lovers' Dance

“Kick rocks…deuces,” Jenny said before they walked out the front door.

Matt stared at the door. “What in the bloody hell? Deuces?”

Madi laughed. “It’s a saying, Matt. ‘Kick rocks’ means you’re leaving and ‘deuces’ is for the peace sign. You know? Peace out. I didn’t think people still said that,” she mused.

Matt blinked slowly, running a hand through his hair as he turned his eyes back to her. “Mmm, where were we?”

Madi eased out from under his arm. “Nowhere. I’m not about to get my butt beaten. Jenny’s right. Auntie Cleo would go mental if she caught us and she moves like a ninja. Sneaks right up on you, then boom.”

Matt frowned at her. “You’re twenty-seven years old, Madi, not a child.”

“This is my aunt’s house, Matt. She’s old school, and I want her to like you.”

“I think we should both stay at Hannah’s condo for the duration of this holiday. I’m not happy with this set up, Madison, not one bit.”

She grinned impishly at him. “Think of it like we’re dating, hon.”

“Cruel,” he replied, unable to fight his answering grin. “You’re a cruel woman, Madison DuMont.”

“And you love me desperately,” she said.

“Desperately,” he agreed, while she stretched over to grab the remote.

“Let’s watch a game instead, Matt. It’s almost one and you have a choice. Cleveland Browns against Atlanta Falcons, Tennessee Titans against Philadelphia Eagles, Detroit Lions against New England Patriots. Oh look, the Jets are playing. They’re a New York team. Let’s watch them.”

“Those names mean nothing to me, poppet,” Matt drawled, pulling her back into his arms. “It’s backwards over here. You call football ‘soccer’, which is bollocks. Football is played with the feet, hence its name. Then you call rugby ‘football’, and it’s a pansy version of the real game, wearing pads and protective gear over the body. That actually makes the game more dangerous you know, because the players go in with a reckless tackling technique.”

She turned in his arms to stare at him, a little curl at the corners of her luscious lips. “First of all, wow, I didn’t know you liked sports—”

“I rarely have the time to watch sports,” he corrected.

“Second of all, don’t bring that snotty British ‘tude in here, Matt. You’re on my turf and I will not hesitate to teach you manners—”

“I’d love to see you try,” he mocked.

“Thirdly—wait—I don’t have another point to make. Let’s watch the game.”

Matt manoeuvred her around so she was snug against his chest and relaxed into the sofa. As far as things went, today was turning out to be better than he expected. Hopefully the rest of their holiday continued along this stream, and her family would accept their relationship. Once that happened, and he was certain it would, he could have a private word with her uncle to discuss his intentions. Matt had made his mind up and he wasn’t willing to wait anymore.

I waved goodbye to Matt, hating the fact we would have to spend another night apart and glad Thanksgiving was tomorrow. It would be Saturday soon and we could go home, I mean, England. It was strange when I came home. It took a couple of days for me to get back into it, then it was like I’d never left. All too soon, I was heading back to England with a New Yorkian frame of mind, which sometimes clashed with my life home, I mean England. I sighed and shut the door, knowing I would have to deal with the mountain of dishes left by the people who’d come to my uncle’s pre-Thanksgiving party. They did this every year as a way to see everyone before the holiday. Thanksgiving was a day for family, and family only, according to Uncle David.

Matt was taking things in his stride like I knew he would. There were a few awkward moments, though. Like Monday night. He’d insisted on taking us out for a meal at Masa. How he’d managed to get us in the small but exclusive restaurant without a reservation I had no idea. I enjoyed the food, trying everything Matt suggested, while Auntie Cleo and Jenny constantly whispered to me about the perceived self-superiority of the clientele. I told them to be quiet and eat theirwagyu tatakiwith truffles. Uncle David looked uncomfortable in his dinner jacket throughout the meal, and Jamal kept making eyes at this woman, which wouldn’t have been that bad, except her husband was next to her and he took offense and said something to which my horn dog cousin had to reply. Matt ended up paying for the couple’s dinner, too. I felt sick thinking about the overall bill. The wine had been flowing much to Auntie Cleo’s consternation.

And there was the bodyguard incident. Same freaking night. We were heading back to the limo. I had told Matt we didn’t need a limo but he hadn’t listened. I think he was trying to impress my family the only way he knew how. It was sweet but I could see my aunt’s face as she had mumbled to Uncle David about certain people showing off their wealth. I had also heard the words ‘rubbing’ and ‘noses’ interspersed between her whispers. Anyway, we were heading back to the limo when a crowd of exuberant revellers morphed around us on the sidewalk. Matt’s bodyguards, who were freaking ghosts, appeared out of nowhere. His bodyguards jumped into action and, unfortunately, Hulk had grabbed my aunt’s arm in a totally unnecessary attempt to move her to safety. My aunt did not take kindly to some giant stranger putting their hands on her person. In her defence, it was an instinctive reaction to being grabbed. Aunt Cleo began throwing punches and kicks at any part of Hulk she could touch, while screaming blue murder and calling him a purse snatcher. Uncle David, of course coming to his wife’s aid, had tried to yank Hulk away in the melee and ended up with an elbow in the eye. We still couldn’t decide if it was Aunt Cleo who landed the unintended blow or Ryan the Hulk. Matt was being tugged away by another one of his people while trying to gain control of the situation.

I had stood there, clutching my purse to my chest with my mouth hanging open and certain the flash of lights was not from someone’s cell phone. Oh God. If this made the news, I would die. Matt eventually calmed everyone down and we were hustled into the limo with Aunt Cleo complaining all the while, asking Matt why he needed bodyguards and if he thought New York was Afghanistan. We think alike, my aunt and I. Crap.That was a scary thought.My cousins couldn’t stop laughing as I apologized profusely to Ryan the Hulk, while Aunt Cleo said he should be apologizing to her and only a crazy man with a death wish would grab a black woman like that at night. He had matching red palm prints on both his cheeks and his right eye was starting to swell. Yeah. Don’t mess with my Aunt Cleo.

Matt hadn’t said more than four words after that. Things could’ve been worse, though. Aunt Cleo could’ve whaled on him. Monday wasn’t the best of times for me and my knight. Tuesday, I had spent a large proportion of the day in bed with Matt at his sister’s condo. It was my way of trying to make up for the night before. Matt was appreciative of my efforts.

This afternoon we’d had people around for the get-together. I had spent most of my day in the kitchen cooking with Aunt Cleo, while Matt quietly sat in the sitting room working on his laptop. Jamal and Uncle David had gone to work, and Jenny had disappeared with some of her friends. It gave me alone time with Auntie Cleo, but she wouldn’t talk about anything serious. I think Matt’s presence caused her to hold her tongue. Plus, she was still smarting over him staying at the condo instead of her house. She thought Matt felt our home wasn’t good enough for him. Coward that I was, I refrained from telling her the actual reason I asked him to stay at the condo. If I had told her that, then I would have needed to explain the whole security issue which would worry her further.

“Madi, you gonna take the rubbish out like you said you would?” Jamal called from the kitchen.

I sighed and hurried back into the kitchen to finish cleaning up. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, another day in the kitchen. Uncle David’s family would be joining us. Neither I nor Aunt Cleo got along with them. Whatever beef was going on, it had transferred onto me since I was Aunt Cleo’s blood relative. Having to call Uncle David’s mom, Ms Regina, while Jamal and Jenny called her grandma, had freaked me out as a child. It was another reminder that I wasn’t viewed as ‘family.’ Aunt Cleo had tried to make me feel better about it. I remembered getting birthday and Christmas cards from Ms Regina with money inside up until I was nine. Then Jenny had pointed out in her little precocious manner that the writing in her and Jamal’s cards were different. The cards stopped coming after that, but I always got a little extra at Christmas from my aunt and uncle.

“Where’s Jenny?” I asked Jamal as he swigged a can of beer.

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