Player forced a smile even as he shook his head. “People have these maps their parents gave them. Or grandparents. Or someone. I don’t have anything like that. I don’t know the first thing about a relationship. Not one damn thing, Anat. That would be letting her in for a lifetime of hurt.”
Anat sighed again. “Perhaps, Player, but then my Zyah knows quite a bit about relationships. She knows what love is, even if you don’t. She is open to learning all the time. You’ve closed yourself off. Where you could have learned from her, you have shut yourself off from happiness. She should back away from the relationship, Player, and I was wrong to push to save it. I see something in you, just as she did. That matters little when you don’t see it in yourself. Using your past as an excuse to stand still is still an excuse to be a coward, Player. I never would have believed that of you. No one can change your life but you. No one can save you but you.”
Had anyone else called him a coward, Player might have resorted to violence, but he just stood there in shock, wincing at her condemnation. Absorbing every word.
The door between the garage and the kitchen opened and closed. “Mama Anat? I’m home, safe and sound. Savage and Destroyer escorted me home and scared everyone off just by looking at them.” There was genuine amusement in Zyah’s voice.
The sound of her laughter always opened up something soft and unexpected in Player he hadn’t realized was in him. He’d thought every part of him was hard, completely closed off to anything human, but somehow Zyah had found a way into that one little piece that was still vulnerable.
“We’re in here, Zyah. In the bedroom,” Anat called, joy in her voice. “Perhaps you’re right, Player. My Zyah deserves a man willing to fight for her. If you don’t think she’s worth fighting for, then you certainly are not that man.”
Player opened his mouth to protest. Anat was deliberately misunderstanding him. Zyah was worth fighting for. He had never, not once, implied she wasn’t. Zyah rushed into the room, graceful, her dancer’s body flowing with energy, dark eyes bright, her hair thick and shiny even in the dimmer lights Anat had by the bedside.
“Did you have a good day, Mama Anat? It was so beautiful outside, I hope you were able to go out. Player, did you take her outside on the back patio?”
It was one of the few times Zyah addressed him directly unless they were sitting in bed with the lights off. The moment she did speak, the moment she looked at him, her eyes meeting his, he tasted her in his mouth. That perfect blend of subtle jasmine and a rich green floral mimosa. His tongue would forever know that very distinctive cinnamic-honey flavor edged with a cassis-raspberry facet. He wouldn’t have even known what those flavors were had it not been for Alena’s cooking abilities. She had schooled them all in various spices.
“We spent a couple of hours in the sun, although I made certain we were careful. She wanted to lie out in her bathing suit,” Player said. “I told her it was too soon for that. And there was this man coming around, a Dwayne River. He showed up with an armload of flowers and suddenly she was all about suntanning in her altogether.”
“Player!” Two spots of color appeared on Anat’s cheeks. “I did not. I just said I didn’t like tan lines. I wanted to put on a bathing suit. And only for an hour. We were out there longer, but I didn’t stay in my suit the entire time.”
“Mama Anat! You did go in your altogether.” Zyah deliberately misunderstood, her eyes wide with laughter. “A few flowers from that man and you’re back to being a cat woman. I told you sunbathing in the nude was out for a while.”
Anat made her trilling sound, the one Zyah loved from her childhood.
“Wait,” Savage said, crowding into the bedroom behind her. He stuck his head in the room, keeping his body behind the door frame. “You really went out sunbathing in the nude because of some man named Dwayne River? Has Code looked into him? We need to have him investigated. He could be a total con man. Or a serial killer. Anat, you’re too trusting. Beautiful women are always too trusting. Look at your granddaughter.”
“That’s true,” Maestro agreed. “Zyah’s way too trusting.”
Anat laughed. “All of you are awful. Leave poor Dwayne alone. He’s very nice. He visited me for a little while, but not while I was sunbathing. He makes me laugh. Not nearly the way all of you do. Serial killer?” She rolled her eyes.
“You never know,” Savage said. “The nicest-looking men usually are the ones that fool you. The ones with bald heads and scars usually are good ones. They come around, and you should just feed them, Anat.”