Page 43 of Beneath Your Beautiful

“I’ve been your father for twenty-two years. You think I don’t know when you’re lying?”

“Are you calling me a liar?” I asked, incensed. He grunted. Like a caveman. I should have been fluent in the language by now. “Whatever. The point is I’m fine, and I’m sorry you got that call. It was good talking to you. I’m sure you’re busy.”

He grunted again. “Sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure. I’ve got a hard skull. Tough to crack.”

My dad chuckled. “Got that right.” He paused, and I heard an announcement in the background. He was probably hanging out at Lowe’s, stocking up on more tools or charcoal for the barbecue. “Who’s Killian?”

“Oh…uh, Killian…he’s…my boss. Or, you know, one of my bosses. I work for him. How’s Kate? Did you ask her on a date yet?” I smothered a laugh. “You really should. She’s got the hots for you. She’s quite the catch, Dad. Better hurry before some doctor snatches her up. You’ll need a nurse in your old age.”

My dad muttered something unintelligible, then got back on topic, undeterred by my attempt at sidetracking him. “Killian was worried about you.”

“Oh, well…he probably doesn’t want me to miss any work. He’s a slave driver. And you know I can take care of myself. Nothing to worry about here.”

Killian and my dad snorted simultaneously. I rolled my eyes. Last night’s antics didn’t support my claim. At all.

“Getting drunk won’t make you feel any better. Just forget about Luke,” my dad said gruffly.

I chewed on my bottom lip. “I’m over it.”

“Good. You deserve better.” His voice was gruff again. My dad wasn’t great at discussing emotions or displaying them, but he’d always been in my corner, and I’d never doubted his love. “Call me if you need me, kiddo.”

“Bye, Dad.”

I cut the call and tossed my phone on the bedside table. Killian was still standing in my doorway. “He didn’t buy my story.”

“You’re a shitty liar.”

“I know. I’ve never mastered the art.”

“That’s a good thing. Your dad seems like a good guy.”

“Yeah. He’s the best.” Killian gave me a little smile. Something the cop said last night came back to me. “Why did that cop want to call your dad?”

Killian rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s NYPD. Chief of Police.”

My jaw dropped. The man who came into the bar and insulted Killian was a cop? Not just a cop, but one of the head honchos. “Wow. That’s—”

“Brody’s covering your shift tonight,” Killian said, cutting me off. He obviously didn’t want to discuss his dad, and I couldn’t blame him. “And yourbossis leaving.”

What was I supposed to call him? “I’m okay to work,” I protested, following him out to the living room on somewhat shaky legs.

“Get some rest,” he said, opening my apartment door. “You’ll need your energy if you want to paint the wall in the courtyard.”

The wall? I tried to make sense of what he said. Then, it dawned on me. I’d texted to ask if I could paint the wall and he was okay with it? I stopped in the open doorway. “Really?” I asked, barely able to contain my excitement. “You’d let me do that?”

“Sure. Why not?”

I gave him a big smile. “Thank you. For everything.”

“No problem.” He reached out his hand as if to touch me, but withdrew it, and I felt a pang of loss for something that never happened.

Chapter Sixteen

Killian

“Hey, Killian,” Zeke called as I crossed the courtyard with the cash drawer. If I never had to hole up in an office with Louis again, balancing cash drawers, I wouldn’t miss it. “You up for hanging out with us tonight?”