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“What is it?” I press. “Talk to me, babe.”
“It’s my dad,” she sighs. “I hate keeping this from him. I can’t even tell my mom because she’ll blab to him.”
“We can tell him. Any time,” I insist.
Yeah, it fucking scares me to admit to Hayes I’m banging his daughter but fuck it I love this girl—he’ll see that, he has to.
She shakes her head. “I want to wait a little longer. I feel like if he gets to know you more on his own maybe he’ll be quicker to accept … us.”
I hate to tell her, but I don’t think anything will get him to accept there’s an us. She’s his daughter and no guy is ever going to be good enough, least of all me. I fucking deserve for him to hate the idea of Mia and I together—after all, when we first arrived here look at the situation he found us in. To him, we’re nothing but stereotypical musicians chasing any available pussy that falls in our lap. There’s no way to explain how this place has changed my point of view, how Mia has, fuck how even Hayes has changed me. Anything I can say to defend myself will sound weak and pathetic—an excuse to cover my ass.
“Okay,” I agree, trying to hide my relief.
My biggest fear about telling her dad is no longer about him dropping us, or even hating me—it’s the fear he could be the reason I lose her.
Joshua Hayes is her father, a guarantee in her life.
I’m the guy she’s only known for two months.
I’m replaceable. He’s not.
I brush a strand of red hair behind her ear, taking in the sharp lines of her cheekbones and full lips. She’s focused on her food, but from the slight jump in her cheek I know she’s aware of my touch.
I’ve never known anything like this. I want to believe it’s special, different, but what if I’m wrong. Inexperienced isn’t a word I’d use to describe myself, but it’s exactly what I am when it comes to relationships. I know nothing and it scares me shitless.
I glide my thumb around the shell of her ear and she shivers. My food lays forgotten in my lap. I want to look at her, memorize every feature. She looks over at me and doesn’t cower from my scrutiny. Instead she looks right back and I almost jolt physically, because I see the same fear in her eyes.
I hate this feeling of being on solid ground together, but the minute we think about letting other people in on this, important people, suddenly the ground is quaking and we’re falling endlessly into the unknown.
But if I’m going to fall with anyone I choose her, always.
I force myself to stop staring at her and turn my attention to my food.
“This is fucking delicious,” I tell her, and I mean it too.
She smiles. “My mom taught me how to cook—I’ll confess, it’s rare I make an entire meal anymore, I don’t have the time, but I enjoy cooking when I do.
“I can’t cook worth a shit,” I admit. She knows this.
“I should teach you sometime.”
I laugh at the idea, but say, “I’d enjoy it.”
I’ll admit, my mind is imagining her teaching me to cook leading to a loss of clothes and dirty kitchen sex.
She smirks, knowing exactly where my thoughts strayed. I can’t help myself. I’m a dirty bastard and I’ve finally found my equal.
Mia’s innocent in many ways, but my God she’s adventurous. Never, not once, has she balked at anything I’ve wanted to try. I love how open she is, and her trust in me is astounding.
She turns the TV on and changes it to … “Are we seriously going to watch National Geographic?” I ask with an upturned brow.
She glances over at me offended. A speck of tomato sauce clings to her lip. I reach over and brush it away with my thumb and she licks her lips.
“What’s wrong with National Geographic?” she retorts, the pleasure that previously flashed in her eyes at my touch vanishing.
“I mean … it’s … like educational, right? Boring?”
She glares at me, her mouth parted aghast. “What?” I defend.
