Page 69 of Dare You to Run
“Lord, will y’all stop.” I place my hand on Hendrix’s arm and tell him, “You do not have to answer any of that.”
The oven dings and Aunt CeCe grabs a potholder, pulling open the door and removing the cooked bacon. “Why don’t we finish breakfast before the men get back and leave poor Hendrix to catch his breath.”
Aunt Viv sets Sutton in a chair at the table by Anais, and Mom walks in carrying two little girls with tears in their eyes, one in each arm. She places them next to Sutton and Anais, then walks to the fridge and reappears with an applesauce pack for each girl.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize to Hendrix, my voice low so that the rest of the chickens won’t hear me. “Let’s go sit out on the back porch while they finish.”
“Don’t you need to help them?” he asks, bringing the mug to his mouth and wrapping his pink lips around the edge.
“I think they can manage.” We both look over at the three ladies buzzing about the kitchen to finish breakfast, while Anais talks to the girls to cheer them up.
I push on his shoulder, urging him towards the sliding doors, and follow him out. We take a seat on the couch and I cross my legs facing him.
“That’s quite the family you have.” He chuckles then takes another sip of his coffee.
“And this is my life. For the last ten years. It’s a circus, for sure, but I love it.” He nods with a solemn smile. “What was my Dad talking about? Oh, and my Mom knows we were together last night.”
“What the fuck, Dagen. You can’t just add that in like you’re telling me it’s going to rain today. How does she know?”
“I think the fact that you and I smelled of the same body wash and me knowing how you take your morning coffee clued her in.”
He hangs his head and I touch his hand. “It’s okay. She basically just said to be careful, because you're amanman, and to tell my Dad sooner than later.”
“What’s amanman?”
“Apparently you’re old enough to know things.” He snorts and practically chokes on his coffee. “Don’t worry. I didn’t tell her you gagged me with my nightgown last night.”
This time he does choke and I pat his back. Soon my pats turn into rubbing his back and I move in closer. Hendrix watches me and slowly leans in. Our lips are inches apart, but our bubble is burst in the worst way.
“Breakfast is ready.” Aunt Viv stands at the edge of the door and patio with a knowing smirk on her face.
“C’mon,” I tell him. “Let’s just get this over with.”
I grab his hand and pull him back inside and say a prayer that these women don’t have him running for Mississippi without ever looking back.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The Spanish InquisitionI endured from the ladies was cake compared to the growls and narrowed looks I got from Dagen’s uncles. My heart was pounding in my ears and beads of sweat gathered at my hairline. If it wasn’t for Vaughan and his friendly disposition, I would have been shit on a shingle.
Now I stand on a private tarmac getting ready to board Luca Amato’s private jet that will take me back to Mississippi. The difference between billionaire’s and millionaire’s is great.
When he offered to fly me home, I protested about it for about five minutes before Luca said there would be no more discussions on the matter. And when the rich Italian with possible mafia ties insists on something, you just go with it.
Dagen had already told me she would bring me, but once again, Luca offered his chauffeur. And with that, Dagen said she’d accompany me and Vaughan thought it would be more time for us to talk about cars and bikes. So here we sit, me stuck in between the two of them, talking to Vaughan about visiting my shop and wishing I had time alone with Dagen. Who knows when I’ll get to see her again.
“Whenever you’re ready, just let me know. I’ve got a room for you.” Vaughan shakes my hand with a pat on the shoulder and smiles.
“I’ll hold you to that, Hendrix. Thanks, again, for taking care of my girl. I really appreciate it.” Vaughan slides out from the back seat and I follow.
Dagen steps out behind me and I offer her my hand. “Sure thing, Vaughan. And thank you. It was a pleasure to meet your family.”
I shake Vaughan’s hand with a big smile on my face, figuring I need to soften the blow as much as possible when Dagen talks to him about us. I told her that we should do it together, but she said she needed to be alone with him.
An attendant stands at the top of the stairs leading into the private jet, and I take a look at her knowing it’s time for me to go.
“Dagen, stay away from light poles,” I joke and pass her a wink.
She laughs, sadly, with moisture building in her eyes. I lift my hand and give them both a short wave, hoping the longing in my eyes for Dagen isn’t too visible to Vaughan. Hefting my bag on my shoulder, I turn and begin the walk to the plane that seems impossibly far. Just as I reach the bottom of the stairs, a voice stops me in my tracks.
