So...not Kevin, but my mom. Gideon had been talking to my mom. I was too shocked to grab the phone he offered me as I stared blankly at him.

When he waved the hand holding the phone, I snapped out of it. I accepted the phone and answered, but not before I gave Gideon a look that told him just how pissed I was. He only smirked that wicked half-smile again.

"Mom?" I said hesitantly, knowing there would be lots of questions from her, and honestly, I really didn't know how I would answer them.

"Honey, why haven't you told me you've gotten a boyfriend?" Mom's voice was just as warm as always, though there was a certain curiosity in it now.

"Boyfriend?" I asked, sending Gideon a look of confusion, but he made no moves to answer.

"Yes, he introduced himself to me. Is that why I haven't heard from you in a while?" She sounded fucking thrilled as if grandbabies would start popping out of my vagina at a moment's notice. Mom wouldn't care that I was only twenty-two and hadn't yet finished college. Dad, on the other hand, would definitely care. Those two were the polar opposite, but somehow, that made them perfect for each other.

"It's all pretty new. We're just getting to know each other," I told her, which was only half a lie. While Gideon wasn't my boyfriend, he was my dominant–they were both relationships of different kinds. She just didn't have to know that.

"When are we going to meet him?" She was probably jumping at the prospect of me seeing someone. I'd never dated before, which she was well aware of.

"Mom," I sighed, not ready to handle this conversation right after I'd woken up. We were close, and I hated having to lie to her, even if it was for her benefit as well as mine. She really didn't need to know what her daughter liked in bed.

"We're taking it slow, and it's way too soon to meet each other's families." Hell, I didn't even know if Gideon had any family.

"Okay, that's fine. We'll wait until you're ready. How did you guys meet?" And then the interrogation had started. Gideon really had to do me like this.

"Hang on," I said. I moved back to the bedroom, partly to give Gideon peace and quiet and partly to keep our conversation private. I closed the door before I sat down on the bed, all the while wondering how I would tell her about him.

"We met at a...club. I was talking to a friend of his before Gideon joined us." That, at least, was true; I just withheld some parts of the night–okay, a lot of parts.

"Tell me about him, what's he like? Does he treat you well?" My mother's heart was the biggest there ever was, always worrying about me and wanted to know that I was alright. I knew they'd been trying for years to have me, and when I was ready to move from home, it had been hard for them to see me off.

"He's..." Yeah, what was he? Gideon was so hard to figure out, and I struggled to put what he was into words. "He's assertive and doesn't talk that much. He makes me feel safe like nothing can hurt me when I'm with him." At least, no one but him–and his friends. But he never crossed a line yesterday, always giving me what I could handle and no more. "And...I feel like I can trust him with all that I am if that makes sense?"

"That makes perfect sense. I'm happy for you. You know a mother always worries, but it seems like he takes care of you." I could practically hear her smile through the phone.

"Yes, he does." My mind took me back to yesterday when he stroked my hair until I almost fell asleep. What happened afterward...I didn't think he meant to hurt me by leaving, not with the rugged look he had going on this morning. I guessed I'd just gotten used to how Mateo and Callan were with me, that I forgot how different Gideon was compared to them.

I talked to her for a long time, realizing how much I'd missed hearing her voice. Marissa, my mom, was such a sweet and kindhearted woman. She always managed to put a smile on my face, even when I was in a shitty mood.

Mom filled me in on my dad, Kent-Adams. Apparently, he'd broken his ankle, and none of them thought to tell me about it earlier. She said I shouldn't worry, and I tried not to. I knew he was in great hands. Still, I was going to send him a little get-well package with his favorite treats.

When my stomach started growling, we said our goodbyes, and I went back to the kitchen to scavenge for food. Turned out I didn't need to; Gideon was behind the oven, making something that smelled wonderful.

"You answered my phone," I accused the second I saw him, not really all that upset.

He stayed with his back to me, letting me see his muscled back through the form-fitted t-shirt.

Shrugging, he turned whatever he was making on the skillet. "You told me to." Yup, I really had, thinking he wouldn't answer the phone in a million years. That was what I got for underestimating him.

"And you talked to my mom." It was more of a statement, but he still answered.

"Yes."

"And you introduced yourself as my boyfriend?" That was the part I couldn't understand. Why had he done that?

"Did you want me to tell her I was your dominant instead?" He chuckled darkly, knowing I definitely wouldn't have wanted that.

"What are you making?" I asked instead of answering. I hadn't needed to; the answer to his question was pretty oblivious–that was a big, fat no.

The smell of herbs made me drool. I didn't know Gideon cooked. To be honest, I figured he had staff for that, especially after seeing where he lived.

"Breakfast quesadillas," he informed me, which didn't tell me much; I'd never had it before.

"Yummy," I said, leaning against the kitchen island.

Gideon looked over his shoulder at me, "Ever had it before?"

"Nope, but it smells delicious." Not liking that he was doing all the work, I started setting up the table for us. It was weird how relaxed I felt with someone I hardly knew, but it didn't change the fact that I felt at ease in his company.

When it was all done, we sat down opposite each other. The only sounds were the birds chirping outside.

The first taste exploded in my mouth, and my eyes shut as I chewed. Freaking hell, this was so good. Why hadn't I ever had this before? I opened my eyes to find Gideon watching me with interest, just like he'd done yesterday when we eat dinner. Wait...

"Did you make the dinner yesterday?" I asked.

Gideon shocked me as he nodded once but didn't say anything. Damn, he was making it a regular thing to surprise me today.

"Can you...can you teach me sometime? I'm more liable to burn the water than make it boil." A little over-exaggeration, but I really did suck at cooking. Maybe this was a way to spend time with him. I was desperate to connect with him outside of the bedroom. Hopefully, this could help with that.

He looked uncomfortable, but he didn't say no. "Sure," was all he said, but I took it as a win.

"So..." I started after a couple of bites. "Why did you leave last night?" No matter how uncomfortable it made me to ask him, I needed to know. My own insecurities wouldn't let go of me until I was sure it had nothing to do with me.

He looked at me like he was thinking carefully before answering. "I don't share a bed." When he saw I still needed more, he continued, "I'm a restless sleeper. I would only keep you up if I stayed."

"Oh, I thought I'd done something wrong," I admitted, staring at my plate. I had a hard time opening up, but I suspected Gideon was even worse.

"It wasn't you," he assured me in his low voice. "It's just...I'm not good with that kind of intimacy." I knew that was about as much as I would get out of him, but it was enough to make me relaxed. After that, he focused on his own plate, shutting out any possible conversations.

He's my boss. The thought sneaked into my mind, reminding me of what he'd made me forget with one hell of a first night together. Gideon had made my mind go blank with the way he'd handled me yesterday, and only now did I have time to think about it.

We should definitely talk about how this would affect work, though I was afraid of his answer to that. I'd wear a pair of pants behind the bar if that meant I wouldn't get fired. I didn't know what kind of rules we had about dating–or being involved with–a co-worker, or worse, a boss.