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He’s gigantic. Like a rugged frontiersman who could wrestle a bear kind of big. I check for a man bun but see that his sandy blond locks are neatly secured at the nape of his neck. Good. He’ll get a few side eyes for the long hair but it’s not like he’s channeling Jason Momoa.
“Just wanted to make sure you’re not late on your first day.” Mr. Murphy looks down at his watch. “I’d say you’re cutting it close.”
“Don’t worry, Uncle Danny, everyone will get their cucumber finger sandwiches right on time.”
He looks my way when I giggle, but his hard eyes cut through me and suck the air from my lungs. I immediately look down to my boots to avoid his glare.
Mr. Murphy looks up to the ceiling and lets out a breath once his nephew leaves. “Like I said…That kid’s going to be the death of me.”
I take a deep breath too, relieved once his nephew is gone. “All these years and I didn’t know your name was Danny. Same as my dad, but everyone calls him Daniel.”
He smiles in a way that tells me he knows I’m doing my best to lighten the mood and he’s grateful for it. “Need some help with Shadow today?”
“Nope,” I tell him as I go on making long, lazy brushstrokes. “I have nowhere I need to be.”
Chapter Four
Busted.
I’m still pissed at Parker, but getting caught in a lie is still unsettling.
He’s sitting at the kitchen island with an obscenely large bouquet of red roses resting between him and my mother. They’re laughing like old pals when I come walking into the kitchen, while my father—yup, he was supposed to be out riding with me—is making himself a cup of coffee.
“I was just about to make Parker some breakfast, Bug. Are you hungry?”
“Nope,” I answer, even though I’m damn near starving. “I ate before I left for the club.”
My mother shoots me a look because I’ve just made this little get together awkward, but taking in my father’s profile, I see that he’s cracking a smile as he’s pouring cream into his cup. He’s probably wondering what Parker did to his little girl that required an early morning stop at the florist, so my snotty tone and dismissal please him.
“Don’t go to any trouble, Mrs. Hamilton. Sarah, you want to take a drive instead and we’ll grab an early lunch?”
This exchange would be so much easier if we were alone, but no, we have an audience. I seriously don’t want to get into it right now. Could you imagine?Sweetie, what’s the matter? Oh nothing...Me and Parker are just fighting because I won’t give up the goods.The worst part?I don’t trust that my mother wouldn’t side with my boyfriend. I imagine her advice might go something like:Well, youarealmost eighteen...What are you waiting for?
“Sure...Gimme a minute.”
Five minutes later I’m changed into sweats and my hair is in a messy topknot. I want him to see that I’m putting in zero effort. Once we’re in the car, he turns to me. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“Why?” I shrug when I add, “You’re entitled to want what you want.”
“I wantyou, Sarah, and putting pressure on you was wrong.Iwas wrong.”
“Butwhydo you want me?” When he looks away, I ask him again. “I’m being serious, Parker. Sometimes I wonder what it is that you see in me.”
His voice is flat when he says, “And sometimes I wonder if you even care about me at all.”
His words sting, and I look down into my lap feeling guilty. “I do care. You know that.”
He’s still looking straight ahead when he reaches over to take one of my hands in his. “I can see us,” he says a moment later, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “I can see a future for us.”
“What do you mean?” As the words leave my mouth I’m wondering why I’m even asking the question. Am I fishing for compliments, or some affirmation of my worth? Deep down am Ithatgirl? Do I need the “it” guy to tell me that I’m special, wonderful, or, God forbid, pretty?
When I look up I see that he’s turned back to face me. “You’ll be at Penn, I’ll be at Princeton...An hour away. And I’m not looking to chain you to me for the next four years...I know what being at different schools means. But I think about my future and I definitely see you in it.”
“You do?” I want to slap myself for sounding so needy, but it’s no use.
“I do. And as for what I see in you? Jesus, Sarah, you’re smarter than just about everyone I know, you’re kind to everyone and you’re beautiful. You make me want to be a better person.”
I don’t know what to say to all that. I’ve never been able to accept compliments without feeling uncomfortable. When I don’t answer, he leans in and kisses me on the cheek. “So can we please just forget about last night? We’ll move at your pace, no more pressure. I feel like an absolute ass when I think about what I said to you.”
