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Not exactly an admission of guilt or an apology but he’d take it. “Thanks.”
“I’m heading out.” His father headed for the door.
“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.” Rick looked across the hallway to Sloane’s apartment door, willing it to open. He hated how they had been interrupted. He hadn’t even gotten to give her a goodnight kiss.
What the hell were they doing? He’d talked about his mother with her. About his frustration with his father. She’d talked about her marriage. Not a lot, but he had a feeling they were both sharing more than they ever did with other people. This was no longer a teen fantasy for him. This was a friendship growing and developing and becoming something much, much more. Only he had no fucking clue how to handle that. Sure, Sloane was opening up to him. But he’d spent most of his adult life having women want him for the outside package, not nearly caring all that much who he was on the inside.
It was the irony of growing up and out of his Little Dickie persona. Sure, it was great to be considered attractive to women, but it had been a long time since anyone had attempted to get to know him. He didn’t really know what any of it meant or what Sloane wanted.
River came out of the bathroom in a T-shirt and cotton shorts. It was clear to him she had gotten her hair wet without washing it. It was matted and flat and when she buzzed past him to the kitchen she did not smell like soap or shampoo. She smelled wet and dirty. What the hell was with the lack of hygiene at this age?
He followed her into the kitchen where she had opened the fridge. “Did you wash your hair?”
“Yep.”
“Did you wash your body?”
“Yep.”
“Did you brush your teeth?”
“Yep.”
He waited until she stood back up. Then he held his fingers up one at a time. “Lie, lie, and lie. You smell like a worm farm. Get back in there before I take you down to Paws and Effect and shampoo you myself like a mangy Labrador.”
She looked unperturbed. “If I were a dog, I’d be a Jack Russell Terrier.”
“Why is that?”
River tapped the side of her head. “Intelligent.”
“That’s true. But they’re also highly trainable and you are not.”
She made a face. “Do I really have to shower again?”
“Yes. Why do you want to walk around smelling like wet hair?” He found it hard to comprehend. At her age, he’d been painfully self-conscious and had worked hard to just blend in and be the funny guy.
She didn’t answer him. Instead, she said, “You know, if you want to have a real girlfriend, instead of your girls who send you dumb pictures of themselves posing like this.” She paused to stick her hand on her hip, drop her mouth open, and put another hand up in her wet hair. “You can, you know. I don’t care.”
He wasn’t sure if he was amused or horrified. He did get a lot of pictures like that. Or ones where women were mostly naked, but looked surprised by the fact. Or the ones where they tugged down the neckline of their tight T-shirt, legs spread wide. He liked those pictures generally speaking, or he had until Sloane had come back to town. He just wasn’t aware his sister had seen any of them. “What do you know about those girls?” he asked, reaching in the fridge for a beer. This conversation required an action for his suddenly nervous energy.
“I know that you don’t care about them.”
That didn’t sound right. “They’re friends, that’s all. Girls I talk to, flirt with. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about their feelings.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I mean. I mean, if you want like a real girlfriend, it’s fine. Like Sloane or whoever.”
There it was again. The little matchmaker. He wanted to grin but just took a sip of his beer and leaned against the countertop. “Do you think Sloane would want to be my girlfriend?”
River nodded. “Sure. Who wouldn’t want to be your girlfriend? You’re a nice person.”
That touched him more than he wanted to admit. He suddenly had a lump in his throat. “Thanks, kid. I love you, you know that, right?”
“Of course I do. I love you, too.” She chewed on the tip of her wet, unwashed hair. “So are you going to make Sloane your girlfriend?”
River seemed to want a commitment. “It’s not that simple.” It had been a long time since he’d had a real, honest, to God, girlfriend. “She might not want to. Or she might not want to upset her brother.”
That made his sister scoff. “Why would he care? He’s an adult. I’m a kid and I don’t care, so why should he?”
