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Addison’s life felt like being in the center of a tornado, with everything whipping around her as she clung on for dear life. She still didn’t know quite how it all happened, but in the space of five days, she went from not having a clue who her father was to being in the passenger seat of Mason’s BMW on the way to meet him.
Steve Redford. Born in July of 1962. He had a Dennis Quaid smile and kind eyes. Apparently he never moved away from the tiny New Mexico town where he grew up, barely more than an hour from where she spent the first eight years of her life. She hadn’t entirely wrapped her mind around any of that yet.
Not to mention the cancelled Chile trip, receiving special treatment from Gabriel because she was fucking one of the partners, and the fact they were driving for thirty-three hours since she was too much of a wuss to fly...all that would hang over her head for a long-ass time.
At the end of the day, though, she couldn’t do this alone, and she damn well knew it. If Mason wanted to bend over backward to make the stars align for her, she wouldn’t say no.
She would, however, do her level best to pay him back. Not necessarily for the trip expenses—he’d assured her enough times that the money had no effect on him whatsoever, and she didn’t have too much pride to take the gift. But she would sure as fuck find some way to make it up to him and show him the same level of kindness he showed her.
“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet,” Mason said, glancing her way before returning his gaze to the road. “What’s on your mind?”
She had a feeling he’d give her a spanking if she told him she still felt guilty (it would be the third such punishment in five days). So she went with the other matter weighing on her mind instead—the one she hadn’t admitted out loud yet.
“Is this a mistake?”
Though his face showed no reaction, his hands tightened on the steering wheel for a few seconds.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” she rushed to add. “I’m not saying I don’t want to go. I know how much you gave up to make this happen for me, so please don’t think I’m not grateful.”
“It’s all right.” It came out a little too commanding to be considered entirely soothing. “I’m not mad at you. It’s perfectly reasonable to feel anxious about this.” When she didn’t respond, he said, “Tell me what you’re worried about.”
She thought about that for a second. “I mean, what if he’s an asshole?”
“I thought that’s why we were driving down there instead of messaging him.”
Mason knew perfectly well that was the reason, but it was kind of him to point it out in such a polite way. She had the option to reveal herself to relatives online—an option her dad clearly chose when he took his own ancestry test. If she did that, any blood relatives with an account would be notified, and she’d have the option to send them messages.
The notion fucking terrified her. She refused to reach out to a perfect stranger, announce she was his long-lost daughter, and just hope for the best. So they did the next best thing: stalked the shit out of him online.
Google and Facebook revealed that Steve Redford owned a bar in the tiny hamlet of Cedar Crest, New Mexico. Which apparently wasn’t even technically a town, but a Census-Designated Place, whatever the fuck that meant. He was its primary bartender and could be found there almost every night. The plan was to sit at the bar, act like a vacationing couple, and strike up a conversation. Once she knew what he was like, she could decide what to do.
All of which was very much beside the point as far as she was concerned. “Well yeah, but there are levels of assholery. What if we get there, and he’s literally the biggest douchebag on the face of the planet, and I wish I never found out who he was at all? Or, like, what if it turns out he’s a serial killer, and he tries to murder us?”
“Statistically, I don’t believe that’s likely to happen.” One corner of Mason’s lips twitched. “Though I suppose we can’t rule it out entirely.”
“Okay, so that was a bad example.” She held back her own smile. “Ugh, fine, no more worrying. At least not until we’re in the same time zone as him. In the meantime, we might as well figure out how to enjoy this little road trip.” Pulling out her phone, she began typing into a Google search. “I’ll figure out all the kitschy tourist attractions along our route. I bet we can find the world’s biggest ball of yarn or something.”
Addison learned in that moment that Mason St. John gave the most vicious side-eye of all time. “If you so much as think about that again, I swear to God, I’ll pull this car over and spank you right on the side of the highway.”
A giggle bubbled up out of her. Oh so tempting, but she decided to be good, at least for now. Connecting her phone to the car’s Bluetooth, she asked Mason several questions about his music preferences, putting on a Spotify playlist instead. At least then he wouldn’t find it weird if she didn’t talk.
Because in truth, finding out her dad was a major twat wasn’t even her biggest worry. She just couldn’t bring herself to admit the other part out loud.
What if he knew about her all along and simply wanted nothing to do with her?
CHAPTER 14
Mason
Driving across the country was not on Mason’s bingo card for the year. Yet here he was, fiddling with a plastic keycard at the best hotel he could find in Cleveland, desperate to lie down after twelve hours on the road.
“I would’ve thought this place was absurdly fancy if I came here two months ago,” Addison said as they finally stepped into their suite. “The Manor has ruined me for all other hotels.”
Mason let out an amused huff. “I’m sorry this is no longer up to your standards.”
“Oh, I suppose it’ll do,” she said, green-blue eyes sparkling with excitement as she surveyed the room.
A large sitting area stood to their right, with a sofa and three chairs in an assortment of grays and whites. They were arranged in a half circle in front of an enormous flatscreen TV. To the left, a sleek black dining table and six gray chairs sat under a dramatic faux-crystal chandelier. The corner of their king-size bed was just visible through a partially open door on the far wall.
