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Marcie gave me a look like she wasn’t sure whether to throw my laptop at me or fuck me on the table, but before I could say anything else, Clive returned, chair in hand to sit down with us.
“They’ll bring the coffees out,” he said, settling in next to his daughter. “What were you two talking about?”
A vivid pink stain appeared on Marcie’s cheeks, and I almost laughed. “Just small talk,” I said easily. “I asked about her store.”
For a split second, shock flitted across her beautiful features, like she was surprised to hear me mention The Blind Hem, which Clive had, at one point, told me about. But something new sparked in her eyes all the same, and I was secretly pleased that I managed to light her up like that.
“Yeah, he did,” she said, straightening in her seat. “What would you like to know?”
Marcie took fierce pride in her business—I could tell by the way she ticked off information about her space, inventory, and plans for expansion. And I learned another side to her personality, something beyond the sexually empowered goddess from the night before. She sparkled with purpose and determination as she articulated her vision, and I couldn’t have stopped listening to her talk if I tried.
“Told you she was smart,” Clive said like a proud dad, after Marcie finished explaining her point-of-sale system.
“She’s brilliant,” I agreed with a grin. “It’s obvious.”
Her luminous eyes, alive with intelligence, landed on me and I felt her thoughtful regard like a weight. Carefully—so carefully—I slid my foot closer to her under the table and gently bumped her shoe with mine.
“What would you like to do with your store in the long run?” I asked, keeping the conversation focused on her business. “Your shoot-the-moon goal, if you could pick just one?”
She flushed and I felt the toe of her shoe slide against mine. “After we move the store to a bigger space, I want to get into some bridal stuff.” Her tone was tentative, like she was giving voice to a thought that she hadn’t yet shared with anyone. “Not a full-service bridal boutique, more like niche gowns for nontraditional brides who aren’t into white lace ballgowns. I’d love to work with Seattle designers and maybe do some shows.”
Clive smiled warmly and as he chucked her on the shoulder affectionately. “I like that idea, sweetheart. You were always a creative thinker.”
Marcie glanced over at me where I sat and thoughtfully considered her concept. She took in my expression and chuckled. “You don’t have to have an informed opinion if you’re not a clothes guy, Denton.”
I looked her in the eye, trying not to react to the way my name sounded on her lips. “It’s not that I’m not a clothes guy. It’s more that I’m impressed that you have such a specific vision and that you’re already so close to making it happen at such a young age.”
I leaned in closer. Her pupils dilated slightly as I kept her gaze captured with mine, and her lips parted.
“I loved hearing about your store,” I said honestly. “And I’m excited to see how far you can go.”
She looked away with a breathless laugh and refocused her attention on Clive.
“I have to head out, Daddy,” she said, gathering up her purse. “This was a lot of fun, but I need to get to the store to handle a few things. Will I see you again before you leave town?”
“Of course,” Clive said.
The two of them made dinner plans and exchanged a lingering hug, but before I could stand and drag her into my arms to deliver one last whispered promise in her ear—that she would definitely see me again—she turned on her heel and was flying out the door, dark, wavy hair streaming behind her. My heart thumped in my chest as I watched her hasty retreat, but at least this time I knew where to find her.
Brilliant, creative, ambitious and gorgeous. She wasn’t a woman that I could easily forget. Not that I intended to.
“It was really good to see her,” Clive said, settling back down in his seat with a sigh. “No matter how old they get, you always want to look out for your kids and take care of them.”
“It looks like she’s doing great,” I pointed out. “What is she, twenty-seven?”
“Twenty-four,” Clive responded.
Ooof.Even younger than I guessed, and for a moment I felt every one of my forty-seven years.
“Well,” I continued, carefully keeping my expression neutral, “most people her age don’t have that kind of drive or vision. You did great with that one, Clive.”
“Thanks,” Clive said, looking rightfully pleased before his expression turned more serious. “And I don’t want to smother her, or for this to be a big deal, but would you do me a favor?”
“Sure,” I agreed. “Anything.”
He leaned in. “Check in on her for me. Just keep an eye on how things are going. I don’t want to keep her under surveillance or anything because I’mnother boss, but if she’s ever sad or struggling or could use a call from her dad or an extra visit sometime, just let me know, and I’ll be there. Maybe drop in at the store and say hi and take her for lunch now and again. Is that okay?”
“I can do that.” I leaned in to place a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a great dad, Clive. It’s obvious. And I’m happy to check in with her if it helps you rest a little easier with your daughter so far away.”
