Page 24 of Lilacs and Leather
He chuckles and opens the passenger door. “Shall we?” he asks.
I nod and slide into the leather bucket seat. He gently shuts the door behind me and practically jogs around to the other side. He pulls away from the curb with practiced ease. I take a few long moments of silence, breathing in his scent. It’s warm tonight, full of dark chocolate and old books. I can pick up the traces of whiskey and leather, but they’re faint. He’s pushing out calming pheromones for me, and I fight the urge to preen at his thoughtfulness.
“Lex loved the flowers, by the way,” Rhett says into the silence.
“I’m glad,” I reply, looking out the window.
“Have you always wanted to be a florist?” he asks.
I shrug. “Not exactly. I went to school for event management.”
“Did you go to school around here?”
“I’m actually from Louisiana and went to a state school.”
“So that explains the accent I can pick up sometimes,” Rhett chuckles.
I snort derisively. “You’re one to talk. I cannot for the life of me figure out what your accent is,” I throw back.
He laughs harder. “My mum calls it ‘bastard’s Irish.’”
I blink at him. “I’m sorry?” I sputter.
“Such a classy woman, my mother. She’s full-blooded Irish, and I was actually born in Ireland. We moved to Massachusetts when I was but a wee babe, after she met me stepdad. Sometimes I can barely understand Mum’s accent when she gets on a tear, but mine’s a bit softer, seeing as I grew up and went through school in the states,” he says, playing up his lilting accent for effect.
“So, your mom wasn’t bonded when she had you?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
“Nah, she’s actually an alpha, and my father was just a fling. I’ve only met the man a few times, but Ben, her bond mate, has been my dad in all the ways that count,” he goes on, smiling a little to himself.
I hum and consider that for a moment. Having a female alpha mother must have been tough growing up, especially for a male alpha. My brothers always pushed back against our father and practically walked all over my mother when they were teenagers. They were never particularly mean to me, but indifference can be almost as cruel. My father never stopped them, even encouraging them at times, and it left a bad taste in my mouth. But maybe not all alphas were raised to be pushy, entitled knotheads?
“What about you?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Oh, you know. My parents were high school sweethearts. My mom’s an omega and her parents made my dad jump through all the hoops during the courtship. But they’ve had the model marriage, her raising me and my brothers while he runs his contracting business with his pack,” I say, trying to keep the tension out of my voice.
“How many brothers?” he asks, and I turn my head at the genuine curiosity in his tone.
“Three, two older and one younger, and all alphas. Jason, my younger brother, and I are the closest. He’s actually my Irish twin, no offense,” I add with a chuckle.
Rhett laughs back. “None taken. I have four sisters, so I know how it feels to be outnumbered.”
“Are they alphas too?”
“Just my baby sister, Amelia. Katie, Tessa, and Jenny are betas, but I dare anyone to try to tell them that.”
We share another laugh and spend the rest of the ride talking about the struggles of growing up in such big families. Rhett has more aunts and uncles than I do, thanks to his mother’s seven siblings. He shares stories about the crazy things that he and his cousins did at family reunions, and I lose track of time.
Before I know what happened, we’re pulling up to a parking lot of the restaurant. The lot is busy, and we park in a spot near the back. Rhett dashes around the car to open the door for me, and I tense, waiting for the sudden movement or entitled touch. But Rhett simply extends his hand in my direction, keeping his movement in my field of view and stopping well short of my personal space. My heart does a somersault, and I slide my hand into his much larger one and allow him to help me to my feet and hold my hand as we cross the parking lot.
Alice’s Kitchen is a two-story brick building with dramatically uplit metal pillars spaced evenly along the front facade. To the right of the main entrance, there’s a covered patio on the first level, and a balcony above it, both with full tables of diners. Rhett opens the door into an atrium packed with people waiting for seating. He squeezes my hand as we push through to the hostess station. The slightly frazzled looking brunette girl manning the podium looks up at our approach, and then relaxes, giving Rhett a dazzling smile.
“Welcome back, Mr. Cooper. We have your table all set for you,” she chirps.
Something inside me tenses at her batting lashes and coquettish smile. But Rhett gives my hand a quick but gentle squeeze, and I relax again.
“Thank you, Julia,” Rhett responds politely.
Julia grabs two menus and turns into the restaurant. The smooth concrete floors accent exposed brick walls and reclaimed wood beams on the ceiling. The bar to the right of the entrance is a warm honey color and lit with hanging Edison bulb fixtures. Mismatched chairs surround the tables in the center of the floor, and the booth seats are leather couches. The industrial-but-homey feeling extends to the second floor, and a second bar takes up the wall between the two open doors out to the balcony. Julia turns away from them and leads us around a huge free-standing fireplace that serves to divide the space and into a much quieter area beyond it. There are only a few occupied tables here, and we’re seated at a corner table away from them.