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“Pretty okay?” I laugh at his backhanded compliment. “Settle down, or I might let my ego run away with me.”
“Too late,” he shoots back quickly.
I let out a sigh and shake my head because the world really must be ending if I’m starting to see my biker bodyguard in a new light. Lucky is still rough around the edges, tough as nails, and has fucking face tattoos, but he’s kind of cool. Or hot—I mean complicated. He’s complicated and nothing else.
“You’re really worried about your old man?”
I laugh. “Would you be?”
He shrugs. “Never knew my old man. He was never around, so maybe I’d worry, maybe I wouldn’t. Can’t say. If it was my brother, I’d burn the whole fucking world down to get answers.”
“You have a brother?”
“Yep. Diesel is younger than me, and there’s nothing he can’t do with an engine.”
His gaze takes on a faraway quality, and his lips curl into a smile.
“My dad and I don’t have the best relationship,” I admit.
“Don’t know too many people with a solid relationship with their old man. Well, except for Letty, and even her shit is complicated.” He shrugs as if it’s just the way things are.
“Who’s Letty?” I ask. And how does he know her?
He doesn’t hear me but says, “That’s sad, don’t you think?”
“Sad? No. Pathetic? Hell yes. The older generation is built differently. They think being good providers is all it means to be a father, and the job is done. We know different.”
His gaze locks with mine, and there’s a depth of understanding there that makes me uncomfortable.
I can’t afford to start looking at this man like a person—or worse, an ally. Yet his words make me feel better, and he’s trying, which is more than I can say for most people. I smile. “You’re full of wisdom, aren’t you?”
“Or full of shit,” he offers with a playful smile and a casual shrug.
“Always a distinct possibility.”
A few minutes ago, I didn’t think anything could make me laugh or forget how upset I was, but somehow Lucky did. “Thanks.”
“Not a problem, Princess. Turns out no one is only one thing.” His big body moves gracefully as he pushes out of the chair and turns to face me. “I’m going to make that call and see what we can find out about your dad.”
“Thank you.”
He nods, one side of his mouth tugging up in a stupidly sexy crooked grin.
“Dinner will be served soon,” I say, grasping for something else to say.
“Well, since I no longer have to eat in the basement with the rest of the crew, I should dust off my tux,” he says with a smirk.
I let out a laugh, “Is everything you know about rich people from Downton Abbey?”
“Like Masterpiece Theater from back in the day?” he chuckles. “Mostly, yeah. My grandma loved all that old-timey shit.”
“It sounds like she’s not the only one,” I say.
He throws a thumb over his shoulder, “I’m gonna go make that phone call.”
“Sure,” I say, feeling slightly disappointed that he’s leaving. “Thank you again, Lucky.”
He nods, and the corner of his mouth tugs into a crooked grin. “Not a problem, Princess. See you at dinner.”
