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“I can’t do that, Dex. It’s only two.”
He waves me off, striding toward me and prying my mug from my hands. He dumps it into one of the tumblers from the cupboard, screwing the lid on before he shoves it back in my hands. “Take your coffee to go and give Gavin shit. Nobody makes Claire Thompson wait.”
Chuckling, I wrap an arm around his middle. “Thanks, Dex.”
Jordan Valley is less than an hour away, nestled in the heart of wine country in Niagara. Unfortunately, traffic is an absolute crapshoot out of Toronto on any given afternoon, which means that a commute that takes fifty minutes on a good day takes me over two hours today.
I pull up the long gravel driveway, spotting my dad’s truck, and I’m out of my seat and flying up the steps of the porch before I know it.
Turkey, my dad’s dog, leaps to his feet the second I fling through the door. Whimpering, he bolts across the old hardwood, leading me into the living room, where my dad is…fast asleep on the couch.
I crouch down in front of him, examining the deep lines on his face, the sun he got this weekend. With my hand on his shoulder, I give him a gentle shake. “Dad.”
His eyes flip open and he jolts in place. “Claire.” His arms come up, nearly knocking me to my ass as he rubs at his face, then sits up. “Claire, honey, I didn’t know you were coming over. What time is it?” He fumbles with the strap on his wrist.
“It’s almost five, Dad. On Monday.”
He blinks his bleary blue eyes at me. “Ah, shit. Did you call me?”
“Several times,” I tell him with the arch of my brow as I take the spot he offers next to him on the couch. “Casey left twenty-four hours ago.” I bury my fingers in Turkey’s fur. “Please tell me you haven’t been sleeping this whole time.”
Dad shakes his head and gestures at the dog. “He woke me up for his breakfast and his usual run around the yard, but then I guess I…I was still tired, so I laid down for a little rest…” He climbs to his feet and I shoot up, steadying him as he wobbles. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he insists stubbornly. “Gotta get his dinner ready and let him outside.”
I push him back down. “I’ll do it, Dad. Just relax.” Patting my hip, I call Turkey into the kitchen with me and fill his food and water dish. When he’s done devouring his dinner, I let him out into the yard. Checking the fridge, I discover nothing but fruit and veggies, which is great, except that my dad needs to eat something of substance. I run my fingers along the edge of my mom’s apron, which still hangs from its spot on the wall all these years later, before I head back into the living room.
“Do you wanna go out for dinner, or stay in and order pizza?”
Dad’s face cracks with his wide grin. “You’re staying?”
“Of course I’m staying.” I wink at him. “Word on the street is you’ve got a fridge full of cold beer in the garage.”
Dad stands, embracing me in a hug I can’t help but sink into. He’s warm and safe, one of my favorite places to be. “Pizza and beer with my favorite daughter.”
“I’m your only daughter,” I murmur against his shoulder.
“And that’s why you’re my favorite.”
“How you doing, gorgeous gal?”
With my cheek pressed to the cool walnut desk, my eyes lift toward the voice in the doorway, calling out to me. Charlee takes one look at me and grins, rolling her eyes as she strides toward me, the largest iced coffee I’ve ever seen in her hands.
“You’re being dramatic,” she says, slapping the sloshing, enticing liquid down in front of me. “Get up. You’ll be fine.”
“Fine?” I doubt it.
She plops down in the chair across from me. “Yes, fine. You, Claire Thompson, will be fine.” She gestures to the giant coffee that’s calling my name. “And now you can’t complain that you’re too tired to go.”
She’s got me there.
With my palms flat on my desk and my head tipped down, I slurp greedily at the iced coffee. The sound I make when that delicious vanilla cold brew coats my throat is something akin to the noises that were flying from my mouth on Saturday night when Avery’s magical fingers went to town between my legs.
“I just think maybe I should go home. You know, get an early bedtime. I need it.” It’s not a lie. By the time I made it back to Toronto last night after leaving my dad’s, it was nearly midnight. I don’t know if you know this about me, but I get myself easily wound up. It was after one in the morning by the time I was finally able to drift to sleep. I normally need a solid eight hours to function properly.
“So why don’t you head home now and take a quick nap before you go? Dex won’t mind.”
I quirk an amused brow. “Oddly enough, I feel responsible for working the hours your brother pays me for.”
“Yeah, but this is technically work tonight.”
