lot full of bikes. But this was a family restaurant. People came here to eat. If they wanted to get drunk and brawl, there were bars for that.
“You come here often?” she asked as a guy in motorcycle leathers walked past them.
Seth shrugged. “Often enough. Don’t forget, I own part of a motorcycle company. This was normal when I was growing up.”
In fact, now that he had her here, he wasn’t sure that this was a good idea. The odds of him being recognized by one of his dad’s buddies were pretty decent and this could be an intimidating crowd. Kate stuck out worse than a thumb, sore or not, and word would probably get back to his dad.
Damn.
She really didn’t belong in a place like this. He should’ve taken her to a classy place, with linen tablecloths and snooty waiters and artistically displayed food on oddly shaped plates.
Then again, he’d been so busy since he’d officially returned to Rapid City that he hadn’t had time to catch up with the old gang. It just wasn’t a priority—not right now, anyway.
Not that he would ever admit it out loud and certainly not in a joint like this, but Seth had missed his sister and even his parents. However, the phrase “you can’t go home again” turned out not just to be a tired cliché but an absolute truth. Seth loved his family, but he didn’t fit in their household anymore.
Still, he hadn’t seen a single home today that made him want to give up his suite of rooms at the Mason Hotel. There, at least, he could come and go as he pleased, the bed was always freshly made and if he ate out too much, well, it wasn’t that different from how he’d lived in LA.
The waitress took their orders—Kate went with a chocolate shake and Seth ordered an extra side of fries. Once they were alone again, he waited.
She didn’t make him wait long. “Can I ask you a question?”
God only knew where this would go. “Of course.”
“How old are you?”
Seth notched an eyebrow at her. “Does it matter?”
He had the feeling she was older than he was—not much older, but she might be anywhere from twenty-five to her early thirties. And really, was that such a big leap from twenty-five? No. It wasn’t. It wasn’t like he was thinking improper thoughts about a grandmother, for crying out loud.
He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. It wasn’t like he was thinking improper thoughts about her at all. She was his real estate agent. The only thing that mattered between them was that she helped him find the right properties.
Yeah, right.
“No, no,” she defended weakly. “It’s just that you seem a little...old to have a sister who’s only ten.”
He couldn’t stop the smirk if he wanted to. “Technically, she’s my half sister. My mom married into the Bolton family when I was fourteen.”
He could see her doing the math in her head. It really wasn’t complicated—except, of course it was. And he still didn’t have a whiteboard to help explain the ways the Bolton half of his family overlapped with the Lakota half.
“Oh. I just assumed...”
“That I’m really a Bolton? I am—Dad adopted me. But I’m also a full-blooded member of the Pine Ridge Lakota tribe.” He hoped that was enough of an answer for her, because he didn’t want to get into his birth father, the sperm donor. Not at Mike’s, not ever.
She dropped her gaze to the table, and he saw that she was nervously twisting the straw wrapper around her fingers. Seth had a moment of panic—his heritage wasn’t going to be an issue, was it? He’d grown up on the reservation with his tribe, where he’d been loved and protected and then, when Billy had adopted him, the Bolton name—and reputation of his dad—had shielded him from the worst of the bullying off the reservation.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t know racism existed, in both subtle and overt ways. Once he’d left the rez, he’d seen how kids at his new high school had talked about other Native kids. He heard stories from his friends on the rez. And his dad had made damn sure he knew how to defend himself.
Part of that defense mechanism was not announcing his heritage until he was sure of his reception. And sometimes, that meant he never found the right time to tell a paramour before the relationship drifted away.
Within his family, his ethnicity wasn’t just accepted, it was normal. Welcomed. His dad and his uncles came to powwows and helped out at the school on the rez and had married into the tribe. They hired Seth’s uncles and cousins and friends from the rez to work in the factory. It all overlapped and blended together. Just like it had in Seth.
They’d never demanded that to be a Bolton, he had to give up being a Wawausuck. His legal name was Seth James Wawausuck Bolton. He was safe to be both, and that freedom was not something he took lightly.
It shouldn’t matter what Kate believed, really it shouldn’t. Because there was nothing more than a professional business relationship between them.
Except...
Except for the way she’d leaned into his touch as he’d rubbed circles on the small of her back. And the way she’d looked when he’d stripped the petticoat off her. And the way her entire face had lit up when he’d walked into her office—and that was before he’d told her why he was there.
Okay, it mattered, what she thought. It mattered a lot.
Kate opened her mouth just as the waitress arrived with their food and said, “Anything else?” as she unloaded enough french fries to feed an army.
Seth eyed the plates of food. Mike didn’t mess around with his burgers, and the malt was huge. There was easily enough food for five on the table, but Kate was staring at it with something that looked like devotion. “I think we’re good,” he said.
The waitress left and Seth turned his attention back to Kate. She was staring at him openly. “Is it a problem?” He wasn’t talking about the food.
“Of course not,” she said easily. But she looked worried. “It’s just...”
She picked up a fry and slid it slowly between her lips as she nibbled at the tip.
Who knew that eating french fries could be so erotic?
“You obviously have a really complex family history,” she finally said.
Seth snorted. “That doesn’t begin to cover it.” Which was not an observation that let him relax. Crap, why had he brought it up at all? Oh, right—because Kate had thought Julie was a girlfriend and it had been important to make sure Kate knew that wasn’t true.
He sighed and picked up his burger. Deep thoughts about identity and fathers could wait. “Eat, Kate. I know you’re starving.” And one fry at a time wasn’t going to make much of a dent in this meal.
They made good headway into the food. Kate ate delicately—but she ate, thank God. Finally, she said, “I’m glad you came for me at Zanger, Seth.”
“Are you?” Because
