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Or maybe anthrax.
She meandered toward the built-in bookshelves to view the photos Lucas had taken with various political icons. There seemed to be an equal number from both sides of the political spectrum. She wasn’t surprised. Lucas had a magical way of bringing people together and encouraging a collaborative environment. Forever known for his rational, calm-inducing temperament.
Except, when it came to her.
She pulled herself from her meanderings. What did he ask her? Oh, yes. Mia.
“She was extremely agitated when I picked her up from your house the other day. I meant to talk to you about it sooner, but I’ve been busy doing Pinkie’s bidding, setting up a small production studio for her posse’s sixteen-second video. So far, I’ve managed to whittle it down to fifteen minutes, much to their dismay and ongoing criticisms. I’m not sure they understand the concept, or even know what a TikTok is.”
Lucas gave a reserved laugh and then his demeanor changed to one of concern. “Mia is still pretty pissed. She walks into the house and goes directly to her room. She’s even asked that her meals be delivered to her rather than joining me in the kitchen.”
Her daughter was the light of her life, but there were times when she could quickly morph into a petulant pain in the ass.
“I hope you told her to go pound sand.”
He looked guilty. “Maybe.”
Her shoulders lowered, giving him a look of recrimination. “You’ve been taking her food to her every night, haven’t you?”
He covered his eyes with his hand. “On a tray with a small vase and a tulip from the front yard.”
“Lucas,” she groaned.
“What?” he said, raising his arms to his sides in frustration. “I just met my daughter less than a month ago and you want me to piss her off more?” He crossed his arms and lowered his chin to his chest. “I don’t have that much time with her and I don’t want to spend it with her being mad at me.”
“How’s that working for ya?”
“Not so great.”
Empathizing with his desire to have an idyllic visit with his daughter, and maintain some parental control, Birdie walked toward him but kept enough room for the conversation to remain platonic. Friendly. Nonsexual.
Omigod, he’s sexy.
“Okay, let’s back up. What happened?”
He took a deep breath and let it out. “I caught her googling ‘vow of chastity,’ which, in my mind, wasn’t a bad thing. And then she asked if I would take her to church. I told her I would. Gladly. And then I found out the reason she wanted to go was to impress that little fucker, Oliver Sanderson. Then she asked me if I knew him.”
He shrugged his shoulders and she found his expression adorable. Irresistible.
He continued, “Imighthave misrepresented his character. I also questioned the reasons for her wanting to attend church. Were they the right ones? Then, she began to twist and turn my words into the worst possible interpretation. I got mad and she called me a misogynistic asshole. So, I sent her to her room.”
Birdie held back a smile. “She learned the word misogynistic in literature class last year and has managed to insert it in every sentence she can with dramatic flair. If it makes you feel any better, she’s accused Angus—whom she adores—of being misogynistic, sans the asshole part, about twenty-seven times.”
“What does he do?”
“Well, in his words, he accuses her of mindless ‘blethering’ and that she’s, ‘jist opening her mooth an’ letting her belly rumble.’ Or, telling her, ‘Keep it up, lassie, an you’ll end up with a face oan ye like a constipated coo.’ And then he sends her to her room since his company is so offensive to her.”
Rather proud of her impromptu Scottish brogue, she leaned her head toward him and gave him an encouraging smile. “Mia really hates it when Angus compares her to livestock.”
“Does she get mad and shut him out?”
“Sure she does. Both Angus and I get the cold-shoulder on the reg,” she said waving a dismissive hand in front of her. “It’s the blessing that comes with raising a teenager with an advanced vocabulary and above average debate skills. Safety tip: when she gets really flustered, she falls back on some pretty impressive gaslighting techniques, making you doubt yourself and end up walking away dazed and confused. God, I love that kid.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
“Oh, God no. It tells me she feels safe to speak her mind, even when she’s flat-out wrong. I was never able to look my mother in the eye, let along talk back to her. But that doesn’t mean I don’t punish Mia for when she crosses a line.”
His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “I’ve always found it ironic how you lived so large and out loud, considering how you were raised.”
