Page 20 of Hot Rucking Canadian

Isaiah tapped my foot with his.

“I got into trouble with the cops. All juvie stuff, but I wound up dropping out. I dicked around—pardon.”

Becca waved me off.

“Doing nothing good, I mean.” I winced. “Then my mom got sick, and I had to take care of us. I got a job working in a fabricating plant. I was making good money, but the shop wasn’t so good about safety.” I gestured to my face. “That was me being inattentive and them not having proper safety protocols.” I blinked several times. “I was in the hospital for two weeks and when I got out, I had to take my mom right back there. She died a month later.”

Another brush of his foot.

Cassandra frowned.

“Sorry, too blunt.”

Becca offered a small smile. “Cassandra’s grandmother—Roger’s mother—passed away last year after a brief illness. We didn’t shield her.”

“I miss Grannie. Do you miss your mom?”

Slowly, I nodded. “Yeah, I really do. I wasn’t the kid she thought I should be and by the time I tried to grow up, she was gone.” I scratched my chin. “But I decided I’d do better. Not even a speeding ticket in twenty years. I work hard, pay my taxes, and stay out of trouble.” I pointed to my face. “But people see me a certain way and have certain expectations. Some of those I can meet, and some I can’t.” I glanced quickly over at Isaiah.

His dark-brown eyes shone. “You’ll always meet mine.”

He whispered the words, and I strained to hear them over the din of the restaurant.

“I don’t care what people look like.” Cassandra fingered her menu. “Like, it’s what inside that counts.” She nudged her dad. “At least that’s what he says.”

Roger, who had been in a deep conversation with Johnnie, turned his attention to his daughter. “Sorry, sweetheart, we were discussing scrum strategies.”

She perked up at that.

“Cassandra was just explaining how someone’s outward appearance doesn’t matter.” Becca closed her menu. “And how it’s what’s on the inside that counts.”

Roger caught my gaze. Slowly, he nodded. “Cassandra’s got a good head on her shoulders.” He met my gaze. “You’re…not what we expected.”

Johnnie nodded.

Isaiah coughed.

I shot a glance his way.

He mouthedlater.

I nodded—truly curious, but also aware small ears were probably the most likely to pick up on nuance that might just go right over my head.

At that moment, the server arrived to take our orders. On a whim, I ordered the steak. I certainly had the funds to take Isaiah out for a nice dinner when we could be alone.

All through dinner, he kept tapping my foot.

I regretted we hadn’t sat next to each other so I could press a hand to his thigh.

Unsurprisingly, Cassandra had commanded the seating arrangements.

Much to everyone’s amusement.

Dinner turned into dessert where I tried something decadent with Oreos. Who knew a simple cookie could be turned into something so tasty?

Isaiah, Cassandra, Johnnie, and Roger discussed the game in quite some depth.

I did my best to follow. I really did.

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