Page 109 of Tate
She stilled. Looked at herself in the mirror. Yeah, that was pretty. She hadn’t taken off her makeup, and her hair resembled something out of the sixties, teased and definitely annoyed.
“Are you kidding me?”
She was wearing a T-shirt—she did remember pulling that on last night before falling into bed—and now pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and grabbed a bathrobe.
“Gloria!” The voice turned shrill, and Glo yanked open her bedroom door.
“Calm down, Mother. I’m coming.”
She strode down the hallway and down the stairs and only then did she see Sly walking in the back door, followed by Tate, whose hair was just long enough to resemble her own. He wore a black T-shirt, jeans, and was barefoot.
Clearly, yanked out of bed .
“He’s here, ma’am.”
Glo’s attention went to her mother, who sat on the white sofa and set her iPad on the glass coffee table. “Please tell me that isn’t a picture of you…two…kissing.”
She looked at Glo, then at Tate. Back to Glo. Who hazarded a glance at the iPad.
Oh, that was a lip lock all right. Tate’s hand around her neck, pulling her in tight. Hers inside his jacket.
“Yes,” Tate said quietly.
Her mother drew in a breath and slowly rose from the sofa. Picked up the iPad. “And this one?”
She flashed to a shot of Rags holding Tate back, a darkness in his eyes that could still send a shiver through Glo.
“That would be me after Sloan hit me.”
“I’d say you deserved it.”
“Mother—”
Reba looked at Glo, raised an eyebrow, then back to Tate. “Have you no consideration at all for Gloria’s reputation? What this looks like?”
“It looks like Glo kissing the right man, finally.” Tate’s eyes sparked.
Sly put a hand on Tate’s shoulder.
“I know this may be hard for you to understand, Mr. Marshall, but Gloria is part of a bigger future than you are. She is on the way to the White House, in some capacity. If I should win this election, she’ll be called on to lead organizations, lend her name to social projects.”
She would? Glo stared at her mother. “Mother, I’m not a politician.”
But her mother seemed not to notice her. “And perhaps Sloan was a little hasty in declaring his feelings for her, but you, Mr. Marshall, made me a promise. As did I.”
Tate’s mouth tightened. “Listen. I?—”
“Can’t seem to control yourself. You’re impulsive and heedless, and you get people hurt.” She tightened her jaw. “Killed.Don’t you?”
He stared at her, stricken, and suddenly Glo didn’t know who to panic for—Tate or herself.
He shook his head.
“Like your entire squad?”
He drew in a breath, as if she’d stabbed him.
“Mother!”
