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“I guess you’re mad at me.”
“You guessed right.”
“You wanna tell me why?”
“Are you serious?” I jerk my head in his direction. “You talk shit about my dad then want to know why I’m upset?”
“How do you know I talked shit about him?”
“Based on what your nephew said that’s the only logical conclusion.”
He blows out a hard breath. “Danny overheard me talking to his mom. He picked up on bits and pieces. I love him but he can be a real punk ass sometimes.”
Frenchie told me she didn’t know what he’d said. So … she lied. I shake my head, look out the window.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Obviously there’s no point in me ratting her out. Of course she’s going to protect her brother. “I just would like to know what you said. That’s all.”
“I formed an opinion about him. I honestly don’t remember what I said.”
“You don’t remember?” I glare at him.
“Not word for word. No.”
“Then paraphrase. What was your opinion?”
Ben groans. We come to a red light and his head falls back against the headrest. He slowly looks my way. “You really want to know?”
Well damn. The way he’s saying it I don’t know if I want to know.
“Yes.”
He scoffs. “Okay. I didn’t like him.”
“You didn’t like him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He tosses a hand casually to the side. “Can’t say for sure. Just got a vibe. I don’t know, maybe it’s a guy thing.”
“It’s not a guy thing. I get vibes from people all the time.”
“Well. I got a vibe. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“So those nice things you said about him at dinner. Was it all a bunch of bullshit?”
“Not at all. I do think he’s disciplined. And incredibly intelligent.”
The light turns green and Ben hits the gas so hard my body jolts back. “But?”
“But nothing. I just picked up on something not quite right. It’s probably me. In fact, I’m sure it’s me. As anyone who knows me will tell you I can be a fucking asshole. I’m judgmental as hell with certain people and I don’t take any shit. And I don’t make any apologies. Not ever. If I do or say something it’s because I fucking mean it. So if it hurts your feelings that I’m not instantly in love with your dad, well …” He shrugs, and I can hear the rest of that sentence in my head.
“It’s my problem, right?”
“No, it’s not your problem. But I won’t apologize for my feelings or opinions. I had a conversation with my sister. I shouldn’t have to defend myself to you for something I said in private to someone else.” We pull into the parking lot of my condo and he parks the car, keeping the engine on. His hands grip the steering wheel and his body language is so tight he looks like he might snap in two.
