Page 72 of Badd Daddy
I felt him first. Just a sixth sense. I set my suitcases down and looked around—he was standing down the sidewalk a good fifty feet, looking in the wrong direction completely. I let out a sigh—a mixture of relief, joy, and anticipation.
I bumped my daughter with my elbow. “Wait here a minute, Cass.”
She set her things down and frowned at me, leaning down to massage a sore spot on her thigh. “Why?”
I shook my head, not knowing how to even begin explaining. “I…my friend is here to pick me up…pickusup. I wasn’t sure he would be, but he is.”
Cassie’s radar honed in on something in my voice and expression. “A friend?”
I gave her a Mom special—the look that saysdon’t push me, child. “Yes. A friend.”
“We’ll be talking about this later, Mother.” Cassie, ever impertinent, always did like to push; especially when she knew I didn’t want to her to.
I snorted but otherwise ignored her as I weaved through the crowd disembarking the ferry, and the family and friends welcoming them.
I was within a dozen feet of him, and he still hadn’t noticed me. I finally reached him, stood close enough to smell the cedar and pine of his beard oil—close enough to see that he had indeed not been idle the last two months. He was…wow. Well on his way to being jacked, as Lexie liked to put it. His arms stretched the short sleeves of his T-shirt, which was also stretched taut around his mammoth shoulders and chest. There was still a hint of a belly behind the shirt, but it was nearly gone. He’d gone down several jeans sizes, his hair was short and clean cut, and his beard was gone, replaced by a short, neat, silver-and-black goatee, his jawline shaved. He’d had his ears pierced, I noted, simple silver hoops in each ear—it was a look I’d never cared for, generally, but on him somehow just…worked. He had on a necklace as well, braided black leather with bits of what looked like bone—teeth or claws sandwiched between cylinders of polished metal. He also had tattoos, an indigenous, tribal, totem sort of thing on the bicep facing me, obviously a work in progress, and as he reached up to scratch his hair, I saw another tattoo on that forearm, but couldn’t quite make out what it was.
His jeans were loose but not baggy, a faded light wash, his T-shirt was a plain black V-neck, and he wore expensive-looking hiking boots.
My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.
Something else further south in me also sat up and took notice of this new and improved version of Lucas Badd. It was, all in all, a remarkable physical transformation.
My mouth was dry, my hand trembling as I reached up to touch his shoulder. “Lucas.”
He whirled, and those deep, dark, expressive brown eyes of his fixed on mine—his eyes lit up, warming from surprise to sheer joy and excitement.
“Liv!” His voice was pure Lucas Badd, a sound I’d know anywhere—a voice I could pick out of a crowd—rough, gruff, gravelly, weathered. “You scared the shit outta me, woman.”
I couldn’t help a laugh, staring up at him, a cheesy, happy, breathless grin on my face. “Hi.”
He growled, a sound of…god, I don’t know. Pure male exuberance, maybe. “Damn, girl. Sure is good to see you.” He let out a short, sharp breath. “You’re a hell of a lot more beautiful than I remember. You somehow get sexier, livin’ in Paris?”
I shook my head, laughing again. “No, Lucas. I’m just me.”
He hesitated, and then wrapped his arms around me. I froze for a split second, and then his scent and his warmth enveloped me and I had no choice—my arms went around his neck, my fingers buried in his hair, my nose pressed against his skin. I inhaled him, the scent that was Lucas—the beard oil, deodorant, and another deeper, earthy scent layered over that, the smell of the forest, maybe.
When he finally let me go, I couldn’t breathe—the essence of Lucas had me wrapped up and tangled and twisted. I made myself step backward, away from his scent, although I couldn’t take my eyes off of his.
“I missed the shit outta you, Liv.” He scratched the back of his neck as he said this, a sure sign that he was nervous to be admitting it.
My stomach flipped. “I missed you too,” I said.
We’d parted on uncertain terms, acknowledging the attraction between us, but no sense of resolution in terms of what to do about it—him knowing he wasn’t in a place to start any kind of a relationship, and me knowing I couldn’t allow myself to draw close to a man I was worried would only hurt me in the end.
Now?
The attraction that had been there when I first met him was still there, but the flickering flames of it were now a raging inferno. I felt shallow, my physical attraction to him being cranked so far up simply due to a few changes to his appearance, but it was a fact I couldn’t ignore. I had already been attracted to the man as he was when I met him; I left for Paris for two months, and he was drastically altered. Fit, powerful, clean cut. It was more than the mere physical fact of him losing weight and gaining muscle, though, it was what it represented: hard work, determination, a dedication to health and fitness—a pride in himself.
It gave me a sense of hope that, perhaps, he was a man I could let myself feel things for after all.
Or, perhaps more accurately, let myself act on the feelings I already had.
I realized we were just staring at each other, and any questions my daughter might have had were bound to increase exponentially with every second we spent just staring at each other.
“I…my daughter—” I let out a breath and started over, gesturing back at Cassie. “My daughter is with me.”
He smiled. “You mentioned that in your postcard.” He waved at Cassie, who waved back with a reserved expression. “I figured you may want a ride home.”