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You mean like you being a bit of a prick?
“It’s not my thing.”
Seamus frowned and looked down at his drink philosophically. “Then what is lately?”
“Huh?”
“Except for the rendezvous in the VIP room, you’ve been like a monk lately.”
“Well, I had been prepping the Donelson deal.”
“And that’s an excuse. In days gone by, you’d have been working ninety hour weeks but still making time to party hard on Friday and Saturday night until dawn with a blonde on each arm anyway.”
I sipped my drink, wondering if my cheeks were as red as they felt. “Yes, I can’t deny that.”
That kind of behavior was how I’d reacted after my beloved wife had died. I’d spent fifteen years burying myself in anyone I could and, as my real estate wealth had grown, it had been quite a lot of ladies. However, something seemed off lately. The nubile wealth spread before me wasn’t enough. It didn’t matter if I tried movie star, minor duchess, or super model. If it were a blonde, brunette, the occasional redhead. Threesome for a bit of spice. Nope. It all had started feeling empty over the past six months or a year, and I wasn’t sure what that said about me. I was forty-seven and not dead, but it seemed like just another hot night on the town wasn’t doing it for me anymore. Maybe Seamus felt like everything was all the same too, hence his BDSM club idea. But I didn’t think he’d find satisfaction in exploring his kinkier side any more than I would from getting a few extra blondes in bed.
There has to be something more out there.
“Hello, don’t be so full of shite, Cal. You would have a rollicking good time at that club. We both would.”
I sighed and drained my second pint. “Maybe, but maybe there’s something I’m missing.” I dropped my money on the bar, taking care to leave a decent tip for the bartender. He’d need it if he was going to be keeping up with a pain in the ass like a drunk and lonely Seamus all night. “I don’t think it’s at some seedy club.”
Seamus practically growled his answer. “Suit yourself, mate, but I’ll be having the good time while you’re what? Home reading? Someone call the nursing home already.”
I ignored the continued taunts as I made my way out.
***
“Daddy!” Symone exclaimed as she pulled the shepherd’s pie from the oven.
I had to smile at that. She’d only learned to cook a few things from her mother before Priscilla had died. She could make a mean hamburger, shepherd’s pie, and, oddly enough, tacos. Maybe my daughter just had a way with ground beef. However, I hadn’t had a home cooked meal in ages, so as I sat down at the modest table in Symone’s flat, I prepared to dig into the pie.
“How are you doing, cupcake?”
She grinned, a beatific smile lighting up her entire face. Reaching up, she pushed a long strand of fiery red hair back from her face. The motion made my breath catch in my throat since it helped make her freckles even more prominent. Made her look just that much more like her mother.
God, I miss you, Priscilla.
“I’m doing great. Now, why do you look like hell?”
I narrowed my eyes at her as I bit into the pie. “I do not look like hell. What you see is the utter annoyance of having an idiot best friend or frenemy, whichever, and also losing out on a killer deal.”
She snorted and sat down on a stool across from me. “And you’re the one who always says that there’s another deal somewhere. ‘Come on, pumpkin, you just sniff it out like a shark.’ I mean, you told me that when you were talking about dating.”
I frowned. “Not that I was trying to encourage you to date too much. I was trying to help you understand that just because one boy broke your heart didn’t mean there wouldn’t be others, much to my dismay.”
“And then there are other land deals to scoop up.” She sighed and started preparing a helping for herself. “That doesn’t seem like that’s all that’s bothering you.”
“I think I’m lonely.”
Her eyes widened, and she brought a hand to her chest. “You mean that I’m not enough sparkling company for you on Monday evenings?”
“And you’re a real smart arse too,” I said.
“True, but I learned it from the best of them, Dad.” Her eyes narrowed, and the smile fell from Symone’s face. “I’m not surprised you’re lonely. You haven’t dated since Mom.”
I chuckled and mashed around the potatoes on my plate with my fork. “I think I’ve dated since then. Hell, most of the society pages on at least three continents agree on that too.”
