“I’m not a pushover, you know.”
“That’s for sure.” This is so weird, sitting on the floor buck-naked with the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever met, talking shit. I don’t remember ever having a conversation this crazy with a chick before, and definitely not after we just had sex.
“Are you serious?” She gives me a mock frown.
“What do you think?”
Her hand slides up my thigh and nudges my dick. “I think you need to be careful what you say right now.”
“You play dirty, you know that?”
“Ha. I learned from the best. Just hope you never get to see any of my self-defense moves.”
“Your self-defense moves don’t scare me.”
“They should. I play dirty, remember?”
“So we’re talking dirty Davis tactics? Who taught you them, your mom?” I drag her half on top of me, but instead of laughing and winding herself around me, she tenses.
“No. My dad.”
I frown. She’s never mentioned her old man before, and I guess I thought he wasn’t around. Something’s not right, though. I loosen my grip so she slides back to my side, but I don’t release her. With anyone else I’d ignore her last comment. I don’t want to know about her family baggage.
Except that’s not true. Not when it comes to Amelia.
Fuck it. So, what? All my rules have died since meeting her. What does one more matter?
“What’s with your dad?”
For a second I think she’s about to leap to her feet, and I tighten my hold on her again. Not going anywhere, baby.
She sucks in a jagged breath. “Nothing’s with him.”
Just leave it.She obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, but strangely I do.
“You can tell me.” I’m so fucking relieved no one’s ever going to know about this conversation.
She swallows and stares at my chest. “He’s dead.”
Fuck, is she going to cry? I hate it when chicks turn on the waterworks. Except they generally do that when I tell them our hookup is over, or it was nothing serious.
This is different. I should’ve kept my big mouth shut, except she’s the one who brought him into the conversation. Does that mean she wants me to know about him?
“You were close, huh?” Inside I grimace, because I don’t do all this emotional, touchy-feely shit, but what else can I do when she’s looking at me with those big, tragic eyes?
“Yes.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. It happened a long time ago but…I still miss him.”
I don’t know why she’s saying sorry. That should’ve been my line. I give her another hug, wishing there was something I could do to make her feel better. But at least I can let her know I understand how she feels.
“Yeah, same here. My old man died ten years ago, but sometimes I still expect him to walk in through the door.”
She looks as though I’ve just stabbed her through the heart. Jesus Christ. I need to shut the fuck up.
“He never laughed at me when I was a kid, when I told him I wanted to be a writer. Always said I could do whatever I put my mind to. I miss him so much.” She bites her lip and looks down at her lap. “I’m sorry, Gage. I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay.” I pat her shoulder. It’s awkward, and I’m not sure whether I should get up and give her some space, but the point is I don’twantto leave her alone to get over it, the way I would with anyone else. “Still hurts, huh?”
“I know he wasn’t perfect but—don’t laugh—he was like my knight in shining armor. I’d just—I’d do almost anything to see him again.”
