Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“It’s fine.” He opened the back door. “I don’t want to meet him yet either.”
“Why not?” I took immediate offense to his comment, like when my high school friends accused my dad of being a psycho.
“It’s complicated.” He shut the door.
I ran after him. “Where are you going anyway?”
“To take care of some business.” He opened the back door for Jericho then closed it after he hopped in the back seat.
“Business?” I folded my arms over my chest while he opened his door.
“Yep.” He slid into the seat.
“Does it have anything to do with that woman who drives the Lexus?”
He grabbed the inside handle to the door. “Jealousy is an ugly color on you, Liv … find something that’s a little more flattering.”
“I’m not jealous.” I stood in the way of him shutting the door.
“Then go inside and stop worrying about my business.”
“A simple ‘I’m not fucking that woman’ would suffice. But since you can’t say that, don’t plan on me still being here when you return later … or next week … or whenever your business is complete.” I stomped back into the house and slammed the door shut behind me. If he wanted to have my body in the most intimate way, he needed to give me more emotionally too.
Still … he was right. Jealousy was an itchy, teal bridesmaid dress.
The door flew open on my heels. The second I turned, he grabbed my face and kissed me, backing me into the wall, my head barely missing the clock. Everything about it felt brutal. His passion and anger tangled into an unforgiving attack on my body. I moaned from the intensity but also because I couldn’t breathe. He released me, though his hands didn’t budge from my face.
“Are we clear now, Liv?”
I gingerly pressed my bruised lips together and nodded slowly.
“Good. I don’t want to have this discussion again,” he muttered as he exited the kitchen with nearly as much intimidation in which he entered it.
*
“Dad!” I ran out the door to the rental SUV as soon as it pulled into the driveway.
My solid rock of a father caught me without a blink when I threw myself into his arms. A few seconds later, he set me on my feet again and brushed my hair away from my face with his gentle but strong hands.
“You okay?”
I nodded.
“Everyone else okay?”
“I think so. It was a party with lots of people, but as far as I know and have heard, everyone escaped with no more than minor injuries or a little smoke inhalation.
“Did you get burned? Are you having any breathing issues?”
“No. I’m good. I wasn’t …” I scrunched my nose. “I wasn’t home at the time of the fire.”
He frowned.
“Don’t.” I hooked my arm around his and led him to the back door. “You’re not allowed to be anything but relieved and grateful that your daughter is okay.” I opened the door and waited for him to step into the kitchen.
“Who’s your friend?”
I shrugged, fetching him a cup of coffee left over from the pot Wylder made earlier that morning. The rich nutty aroma still lingered in the air. “Well, clearly a neighbor … and someone I know from school.”
“And how long has he been screwing my daughter?” Dad sipped his coffee and took a seat at the table.
I sat across from him and smirked. He could no longer ground me or chase my boyfriends down the street. “Less than forty-eight hours … if you really must know.”
“Livy …”
“Daaad …” I rolled my eyes. “Before I left for college, wanna know what Jess told me?”
“No.” He scowled at me from behind the coffee mug.
“She told me you were the most loving brother and husband. She told me the two of you had been through so much that no one would ever be able to fully understand. She said you, in so many ways, have been and always will be the greatest love of her life.”
His expression softened into the admiration I had seen so many times before on his handsome face—when people talked to him about me, when he talked about Mom, and at the mention of Jessica’s name.
“She also said in spite of your flaws, no father has ever loved his daughter the way you love me.”
He relinquished an actual smile and a guilty shrug.
“But then she told me … until you met Mom, you were a total manwhore, and that I should never feel ashamed for sowing my wild oats.”
Curling his lips together and lowering his mug to the table, he inspected me through narrowed eyes. “That’s a terrible exaggeration and dangerous misinformation. Not settling into a long-term relationship before reaching my thirties didn’t make me a manwhore. It simply meant I had scrutinizing taste in women.”
“Before you met Mom, how many women did you have sex with? Just trying to gauge my own sex life to see if I’m on track to live up to the legacy.”