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CHAPTER 37
Jimmy
“Shit!” I grabbed the skillet handle and moved it to the sink.
As I stared down at the third batch of bacon I’d burned, I realized I should’ve just grabbed something from the Dreamy Bean instead of trying to cook. In fairness to me, I hadn’t expected to be interrupted by a phone call that had completely blindsided me.
My mind was all over the place. I wasn’t sure what to do or how to do it. For the past hour, I’d been spinning the conversation that I’d had on that phone call, and the one that I now needed to have, around in my head—and I still wasn’t any closer to having a clue what should be done.
The clicking of Sherlock’s nails on the hardwood floor interrupted my inner turmoil. I turned around just in time to see both the dog and Bella rounding the corner into the kitchen. Her newly-red hair was still piled up in the now-messy bun that I’d put it in last night. She wore her shirt and shorts from the day before, which were every bit as messy and disheveled as her hair, and there was a long red crease on her cheek.
And I knew at that moment that I wanted this exact scenario to be my Groundhog’s Day for the rest of my life. I wanted each and every morning to start by seeing Bella. And Sherlock, of course, but that was a given.
“I can’t believe I slept this long. I’ve gotta go.” Her voice was laced with panic.
“Actually, before you go, I need to talk to you.”
“Is this the talk?” Her eyes shot to mine and widened.
My heart squeezed in my chest. She was so damn adorable. Her reactions to things were as heartbreaking as they were endearing.
“No.”
“Well, can it wait? Because I’m supposed—”
“I got a call this morning and I think you should know about it,” I interrupted her. I wasn’t trying to be a dick, but I really didn’t think this could wait.
From the look of alarm on her face, I could see that I had her attention.
“Okay,” she said hesitantly.
“It’s not that big of a deal, I just thought it would be better if you know.”
“Know what?”
There just wasn’t an easy way to say this, and even though I was known for my charm, this was one of those rare times that not even that could soften the blow. “The call was from your father.”
“My father?” The color drained from her face. “What did he want?”
“He knows that we’re seeing each other and he’s not happy about it.” I was doing my best to ease into this, but from the mortified look on her face, I was failing miserably.
“What did he say? Exactly.” She emphasized each syllable.
“He introduced himself, explained that he was your father and that he didn’t want us seeing each other anymore. Then he asked me what my price was.”
“Your price?” she repeated, obviously confused.
“My price. What he would have to pay me to stop seeing you.”
Now her expression was blank. It happened in a heartbeat. One moment, I could see emotions playing on her beautiful face, the next it was as if she’d pulled a privacy curtain down. I didn’t see anything when I looked into her eyes. I couldn’t tell if she was upset, numb, sad…I had zero clues as to what was going on behind her baby blues.
“What did you say?” Her question was spoken with absolutely zero inflection.
“Nothing, at first. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Then I said that I cared about you, that I loved you, and that I wasn’t for sale. I may have called him a few choice names that I know we’ll have to get past if he’s gonna walk you down the aisle, but—”
“Wait!” She held up her hand. “What did you just say?”
This was not going well, and it was about to get worse. I took a breath before confessing, “I called him a piece of shit, and an asshole that didn’t deserve to even know you, much less call himself your father.”
