Page 24 of Badd Daddy

“You can see the best in me, but not yourself.”

I wasn’t falling for that bait. “Just listen to her, Liv. She’ll come to the right conclusion eventually. She may fuck up along the way, but that’s life, and she’s gotta learn that one way or another.”

“I can’t protect her from getting hurt or screwing up, is what you’re saying.”

I nodded. “Basically. And that you ain’t gonna do her any favors by trying, even though it may seem like it.”

She stood up, fiddling with her phone before stuffing it into her purse, which she slung over a shoulder. “I enjoyed today.” She smiled up at me. “Tomorrow, we go furniture shopping.”

“For what?” I asked. “I got a couch to sit on, a bed to sleep in, and a table to eat at. What else do I need?”

She laughed, that merry tinkle of amusement sounded so much like a bell, like music. “Spoken like a man.”

I snorted. “Well, I am one, so…”

She smirked, her eyes raking over me almost as if she liked what she saw. “I’ve noticed. Believe me.”

She seemed to falter, leaning forward as if to embrace me and then thinking better of it. “I…well. Tomorrow?”

I wanted to hug her, hold her. See if her skin was as soft as it looked, if she smelled as sweet as I thought, if she would fit in my arms as neatly as I imagined.

“Yeah,” I said, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Tomorrow. Furniture I don’t need.”

She hesitated, eyes flicking back and forth as she gazed into mine, looking for…something. I wasn’t sure what. And then, perhaps seeing whatever she was looking for, she did lean forward. Into me. Her hands flattened against the backs of my shoulders, her arms stretching to reach around me. Her head fit under my chin, her small but taut frame pressing against mine; my hands splayed over her shoulders, and my hands had never felt so big, so unwieldy.

She was that soft—that sweet smelling. More. I was dizzy, holding her like this. Smelling her, inhaling her scent. Her breasts were hard round bumps pressed against my chest, and I fought the erection I felt growing. This was not that—this was a hug between friends, and nothing else.

She didn’t want that—not with me. She couldn’t, and shouldn’t.

She was the first to back away, and I dropped my hands to my sides—I suddenly didn’t know what to do with them.

“Bye,” she whispered.

“See you tomorrow.” I watched her walk out the door of my condo, then went to the front window and watched her get into her truck. She slid behind the wheel, started the engine, settled her phone into a holder thing, and backed out; I saw her mouth moving as she reversed, and I knew she was talking to Poppy, her youngest daughter.

I wondered if she would mention me, and then wondered why I should care if she did.

Once she was gone, I made a spur of the moment decision, and my first action was to call Roman. I had to dig the ancient flip phone I kept around for emergencies out of the drawer in the kitchen, powered it on, and dialed Roman.

“Hello? Dad, that you?”

“Yep.”

“I didn’t know you had a phone.”

“It’s the oldest damn thing you ever saw, and I only use it for emergencies.”

“You have an emergency?” I heard his voice go wary, worried.

“Nothing like that, Rome. I’m fine, everything is fine. I just…I need your help.”

“With what?” Still wary.

I sighed. “It’s a long story. Come get me. I hate talking on this fuckin’ thing.”

Roman laughed. “Me too. That’s why we text, Pops.”

“Text? What kind of text?”