“No,” I repeated. “That’s part of the problem. Everyone thinks it’s about the men in my life, or the club. It’s not. This is about me. I love you, but I’m almost twenty-three years old. I want my own space—it’s time.”
“I want you to be happy,” he said slowly. “And I can even understand moving out on your own. But Portland is the wrong city.”
“Don’t give me that,” I told him. “The truce with the Devil’s Jacks is solid. Deke and the brothers will be there for me. You have to accept the fact that I’m an adult and I can take care of myself. I promise you—if I need help, I’ll ask for it. But you can’t just tie me up in bubble wrap and store me in the basement. Kit’s on her own and she’s doing fine. It’s my turn.”
“Well, if that’s what you really want . . .” he said finally. He shook his head. “I don’t like it. For the record, I don’t like her being out there, either.”
I smiled, because I knew I had him.
“I’ll be fine, Dad. I love—”
“Oh, I can’t believe how much my head hurts,” moaned my former classmate as she stumbled into the kitchen, her face faintly green.
Kind of like the inside of a cucumber.
The wave of warmth I’d been feeling toward Dad chilled. Why the hell did he keep f**king around with women like this? Mom would kill him dead if she saw him pulling this shit. Not out of jealousy. Nope. Straight-up mercy shot.
“You think you could turn that music down?” she whimpered.
I shook my head in mock sorrow, then shouted, “Can’t find the remote!”
Her entire body shuddered and then I felt sort of guilty. I might be disgusted by the situation, but now she was turning all pitiful on me, ruining a perfectly good self-righteous snit.
“Oh, here it is,” I muttered. I grabbed the phone and turned the music off, wishing I could remember her name.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” she asked, and I bit back a sigh. At least I wasn’t the only one with a shitty memory.
“We went to school together,” I said. “Unfortunately, you f**ked my dad last night, so I thought I’d make you breakfast. Consider it your consolation prize.”
Confusion filled her face, and I let the last of my snit go. Who cared if Dad screwed twenty-year-olds? At least he wasn’t marrying them.
“You want some coffee?”
“No thanks,” she said. She looked over at the silent man watching us and frowned. “She really your kid?”
He nodded, and I saw a hint of humor in his eyes.
“That’s kind of creepy,” she said, glancing between us. He shrugged.
“You ready for a ride home?”
She pondered, the wheels in her head obviously a little rusty.
“Um, yeah,” she said. “That’s probably a good idea.”
“Vanessa!” I blurted out, feeling proud I remembered her name. She winced, and I realized I’d shouted. “Sorry—I couldn’t remember what it was, and then when I did . . .”
She just looked at me with big, postparty raccoon eyes. That’s when I noticed her “costume.” It was a super short, super tight little dress that had something weird and orange on the front. There was a fluff of green covering each boob.
“What the hell is that?” I asked. “I mean, what are you supposed to be dressed like?”
“I’m a sexy carrot.”
I looked at Dad and shook my head slowly. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“I’m just gonna go get my things,” Vanessa said nervously. “This is too weird for me.”
“Good idea,” Dad told her. “We’ll leave in five.”
She stumbled back out of the room.
“Seriously? Sexy carrot?”
He shrugged.
“I didn’t realize how young she was. She looked older last night.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“Are you sure about this Portland shit?” he asked, clearly uninterested in discussing his carrot fetish, which wasn’t a huge surprise. He didn’t take women too seriously. In fact, that was his excuse every time he ran off one of my boyfriends.
He didn’t want me hooking up with someone like him. Too late for that. Fucking Liam.
“I’m sure. I’ve made all the arrangements. I’ll finish out my notice this week at the salon, and I’m moving on Saturday. I’d like it if you’d drive down with the truck, help me get my things settled.”
He sighed, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck.
“You’re an adult,” he said finally. “You can do what you want. But what about Painter? You totally sure that’s over? Boy’s got it bad for you.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Painter turned me down and then screwed some slut in the bathroom not five minutes later,” I said dryly. “I’m done with Painter. Been done with him for a while. This isn’t a secret, no matter how much he’s been following me around lately. He just wants what he can’t have.”
His eyes darkened.
“It wasn’t the right night, baby girl.”
“It never is,” I snapped. “I think I can do better.”
Dad nodded thoughtfully.
“Okay,” he replied. “Hey, Emmy?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re making the right choice,” he told me. “About Painter, I mean.”
I froze. Didn’t see that coming.
“What? I thought you wanted me with a Reaper?”