“Erin,” Mrs. Walton hissed.
Sam sent him an apologetic look as she took the salad to the table.
He smiled at her. “It’s fine. I’ve got a bratty-ass little sister too, you know.”
Sam bit her lip and told him with her eyes that Ava wasnothinglike Erin; there was no misreading that expression. But Erin made a scandalized sound.
Mrs. Walton pinched her arm. “Let’s all sit down and eat,” she said.
And so they did.
~*~
“Aidan, what do you do for a living?”
Sam set her fork down, food untouched. No way was she going to be able to eat a bite of this meal.
Her eyes moved to Aidan as he used his fork to poke holes in his slice of tenderloin, uncertainty pressed into the lines of his face.
“I’m a mechanic,” he said, lifting his head so he could address her mother properly. “Bikes, mainly. But I know my way around a car, too.”
“Oh. That’s nice.”
“But you’re, like, a gangster, too, right?” Erin asked sweetly. “My friend Amanda says the Lean Dogs are like the mafia or something.”
Helen’s eyes widened.
Kill me now, Sam thought. “Erin–” she started to intervene.
Aidan beat her to it. “Mafia?” He smirked. “Nah. The club’s just what it says it is – a club. We’re a buncha bike nerds. But” – he lifted one brow – “so long as we’re talking boyfriends, what’s Jesse do? Other than deal, I mean?”
“Deal?” Helen said. “Deal what?”
Erin turned crimson and tucked her face down into her hoodie, but not before Sam saw her furious scowl. Damn, she was going to pay for that later, but she mentally applauded Aidan for the diversion.
“Deals candy, Mom,” Sam said. “He’s one of those kids who sells candy bars during class changes at school, ever since they ‘healthed’ everything up and pulled all the good stuff out of the vending machines.”
“Oh.” That seemed to placate her. “Well, I hope it doesn’t get him in trouble.”
Erin glanced at both of them from beneath her lashes, still furious, but a touch relieved.
“So,” Sam said firmly, “all but two of my students passed their latest paper.”
“Wonderful,” Helen said, and the conversation veered back toward neutral waters.
~*~
All in all, dinner was awkward, but not unbearable. Once he shook off his obvious nerves, Aidan settled into his usual cheeky, uneducated charming self, and Helen seemed to react positively. When they were done, Erin was sent up to finish her homework, and Sam offered to do the dishes. “Aidan’ll help me,” she said, and he made a face that left her biting back a grin.
Helen poured herself a glass of wine and left the room talking about a bubble bath and how nice it would be to have a little down time tonight.
She paused, though, just before she slipped out; laid a hand on Aidan’s tattooed forearm, eyes trained on the inked skin, small frown plucking her brows together. She murmured something Sam couldn’t hear, and then moved on, silent on her socked feet.
Sam waited until she heard the top step of the staircase creak before she asked, “What did she say to you?”
Aidan had been leaning against a cabinet and pushed away from it, face thoughtful as he came to join her at the sink. “She said, ‘I don’t know how I would have lasted after my husband died without Samantha. She’s very special. If she thinks you’re special, then I know that you are. You’re always welcome in my home.’” He glanced over at her, dark eyes probing. “I make her nervous, I could tell. And she hates the tats.” He passed a hand across his forearm. “But she’s gonna try to like me for you.”
She found the idea of it sad, for some reason. “My mom.” She knew her smile was crooked. “She misses some stuff. She’s naïve – a blessing, really. It must be nice to think the best of people, living in the shitty times that we do now. She wants us to be happy. She thinks I’m lonely, and…” She was rambling, so she stopped, concentrating on the greasy baking dish she scrubbed.
