Oh God, here we go.
“I own a hotel or two... well, my parents did, God rest them. When they passed… I inherited.”
Mom was speechless.
Actually, so was I. Hunter’s lie came out so smooth and believable I almost forgot that the truth of where Hunter’s money came from rested between mine and countless other pleasure seekers’ legs.
I walked up behind him and ran my hand up his back. “Smooth,” I whispered into his ear, glad he’d had the sense to lie—especially after that grandchildren out of wedlock comment. He knew she’d have every missionary, bishop, and even the fucking prophet over here if she even suspected I was making porn for shits and giggles.
“Well? Why didn’t you say so, sweetie?!” Mom patted his cheek with one hand and gave a kiss on the other. “Which hotel line is it, dear? I’d love to book with you sometime. I’m sure you have a great mother-in-law special.”
“Of course, ma’am. King’s Palace. Locations in all four corners of the country.”
Mom raised her eyebrows, impressed. “Don’t let this one get away, Maggie. You’ll be set for life.”
“Nice, Mother… glad you approve of his wallet.” I rolled my eyes. She didn’t care that if I married Hunter, I’d be set for life—just how it would make her look if I was. But before I could even let out a huff, there was a knock at the door and Hunter bolted out of the kitchen, shoving past Graham on his way.
“I’ll get it!”
“What’s with him?” Graham asked.
“Nothing, just my mother meddling.”
“Would she meddle like that with me?”
“Not until she learned you had money.”
“I see.”
“Knock-a-lock-a-ding-dong!” A soft, familiar voice floated around the door. Relief rushed over me when I saw him standing in the doorway, both arms bursting with bags filled with what I only assumed were gifts.
“Hi, Daddy!” I ran up to him, excited—at least he actually gave two shits about me—which was another reason I was so pissed when Mom let Mary live with him, but not me.
He dropped the bags and scooped me up into the biggest hug.
I took in his familiar cologne—warm, masculine, and sophisticated. Just like him.
“Hey, Pumpkin! How’ve you been?” he asked, pressing a kiss to my cheek, his close-cut beard scratching like it always did. I’d missed it.
“Fine, Daddy… I’m glad you came. You look good.”
His thick head of hair had greyed some more, but he still kept it neatly combed back, accentuating his prominent widow’s peak.
“Ah, thank you, darling. And who’ve we got here?” He removed his aviator sunglasses and gestured to Hunter with them.
Hunter stood straight as a pole, still sweating from his encounter with Mom.
“This is Hunter, my?—”
“Ah, yes, of course—grab our bags, son, and pay the cabbie,” Daddy said, patting Hunter on the back, then handing him some cash.
As Hunter rushed out the door to the taxi, Daddy leaned in and whispered, “That’s the one we’re really rooting for… isn’t it?” He cut his brows toward Graham.
“Daddy?” Warmth spread through my chest, unbidden.
“Trust me, he’s the guy. Hasn’t taken his eye off you since I stepped in—looks like he can protect you too. I like that.” He sloughed off his double-breasted peacoat, handed it to me, and scooped up the gifts before heading past Graham by the kitchen. “The gifts go where?” he asked.
“Oh, let me show you, sir.”
