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She whips around with a mortified look.
“Um, yeah, I know. Since 1978, Dad, I looked it up. Their protection is almost as old as you, Boomer.”
“I’m not old enough to be a Boomer, Zoomer brat,” I grind out.
What if she’s serious about this marine biology thing?
Am I really happy with a lifetime ahead of my holier-than-thou daughter jamming her wisdom up my ass?
I find a big piece of driftwood on the beach and sit, holding her smoothie while I gulp down mine until the paper straw collapses.
Protected species or not, the lazy turtles have a mind of their own. One of them waddles into the water and swims up to her like a big dog with flippers, poking its head above the surface as soon as Dess surfaces.
They’re almost face-to-face and she bursts out laughing before the beast ducks down again and swims off.
“Dad, did you see that?” She turns to look at me with a smile that’s pure joy.
I smile back, watching her hold her hands up to the evening sun like she’s giving thanks to the universe.
In a single moment, she’s a young woman and a kid again all at once, bursting with wonder. My kind, excitable, happy daughter, bobbing in the water without a hint of the tragedy that unfolded on this beach.
I give her a thumbs-up, refusing to let my mind crawl back there.
If only I had my turtles.
If only I had somewhere else to go besides Eliza and the filthy ways I want to defile her pretty little face. She struggled so sweetly just to fit me—and not nearly long enough.
I want to fuck her into the next century a thousand different ways.
I want her body molded to my cock, ruined for anyone else.
I want to take every hole, bend her over, and press her face deep into the mattress.
I want her to bite the bed as she screams my fucking—
“I love these guys. I’m gonna miss them so much.” Destiny appears at my side, the smoothie I was holding already in her hand. She sucks her drink down loudly.
Goddamn.
Where is my mind? Is it ever coming back?
I glance at her. “Yes, I think we’ve established your love for everything that swims.”
“Oh, Dad. Definitely not everything. Weren’t you listening the other day when Uncle Troy tried to tell me about sea worms? I mean, they’re interesting, but yuck. No parasites for me.”
“Got it. We’ll find you a program that only lets you work with cute animals then. I’m sure it’ll be a breeze.”
Her jaw drops at my sarcasm and she rolls her eyes.
Fine. I had that coming.
I’ve got to do some Googling and find out what the career path is for marine biologists. Damn, why couldn’t she just take over Wired Cup? This would be much easier.
At least I manage to avoid Eliza and the impending hell-discussion about feelings or whatever the fuck for the rest of the evening as I sign off from my last meeting with finance back in Seattle.
If only I were just as happy to avoid her all night too.
By the following evening, it’s been a day and too damn long since I saw her.
She’s not in her lab when I go searching, so I look around outside. On the other side of the house, a few yards away, I see smoke curling up in the distance.
I think it’s the old picnic area with its fire pit and laid stones where my grandparents would host luaus and barbecues ages ago.
Something tells me to follow it.
My nostrils tingle as I close in and see a small, familiar figure with curves that make my body knot.
She’s sitting in front of the fire pit, brewing coffee over an open flame in a small pot balanced over it.
Out here, we’re alone, surrounded by lush vegetation and a makeshift wall on one side. I sit down beside her.
“You fired up the old fire pit for brewing?” I ask.
“Why struggle with a lab grill when I can do better out here? This is a real campfire, a lot like what Wyatt used to brew the original stuff.”
“Wyatt?”
“The guy who gave me the original idea back when he was homeless. The latest flavor is mine, but he was a huge help with the original technique,” she explains. “I tried to see if he wanted to help refine it before I started working for you, actually, but he’s busy with his girlfriend and a real job and all...”
My jaw relaxes when I hear the word girlfriend.
Fuck. I hadn’t even realized I’d gone full jealous Neanderthal.
My growl is still neolithic when I reach for her, pulling her into my lap with a startled squeal. “You spend too much time on your feet. I have a better idea. It’s after nine, Eliza. Why not end your day at a decent hour?”
She turns, devastating me with this moonlit smile that turns her eyes into amber gems.
