So that’s what this was about. Tuesday was worried her mother was dating already, moving on from her father. With a high school boyfriend, maybe it even had her concerned her parent’s marriage hadn’t been quite what she’d thought it was. Diesel rubbed her knee. “No, it does not sound like a date to me. It sounds like two old friends getting together.”
“How do you know?” She bit her fingernail anxiously.
“Well, what time were you supposed to meet your mom?”
“Noon. For lunch.”
“That doesn’t sound like a date to me.” It didn’t. It sounded exactly like what he had said it was.
“Yeah, but, how do you know?”
“You could ask your mother.”
“Hell no!” She looked horrified at the prospect. “What if . . .”
She left the sentence unfinished, but he knew what she meant. What if it were true? “Well, was he friends with your father, too?”
“Not really. Tom and my mom didn’t even really talk all that often. That I was aware of anyway.”
“Was he at the funeral?”
She gave him a look. “I couldn’t even tell you who was at that funeral. It’s a blur. Just a big black blur.” Glancing down at his hand on her knee she added, “Except for you. You letting me cry on you. And why would it matter if he was there or not?”
“It would show that he respected your father, respected your mother’s feelings. He wouldn’t be swooping in this soon.”
“You respected my father and you weren’t there. At least, I think you respected my father.”
Diesel stared at her for a second, not sure what to say. She was even drunker than he’d thought. “Of course I was there. You just said so two seconds ago.”
“You weren’t there there. You were there to visit your family.”
Had she really thought for the last month that he hadn’t attended her father’s funeral? That it was a coincidence?
“No, I was there for your father’s funeral. I just stopped by my family’s grave sites on my way out. I knew your dad for years, Tuesday. I wanted to show my respect.”
“Oh,” she said, looking as stunned as he felt. “Duh. That would have been quite a coincidence I guess, huh? And now that I think about it, you were wearing a suit. Yikes, I’m such a moron.”
He was getting pretty damn sick of her cutting herself down all the time, no matter how it was masked behind sarcasm. “Shush. You’re not a moron. Cut yourself some slack. The last six months have been rough for you.”
“No shit,” she said with fire.
She laid herself across his lap. It seemed to be a favorite position of hers when she was drunk. “Thank you for attending the funeral. You were my dad’s favorite driver you know. He thought you were old school and hardworking. Honest. A true sportsman.”
Diesel felt a rush of satisfaction, and no small amount of embarrassment. That was exactly how he would like to be remembered in his career and it pleased the hell out of him at the same time he felt a little like squirming. “I appreciate that.” He stroked her hair. “Do you want to go get something to eat still?”
“Mm.”
Her eyes were closed. Diesel leaned forward and fished around for the remote control. He turned the TV on and relaxed back, figuring sleeping off the wine was the best thing for her. Channel surfing, he found a baseball game on.
“I hate baseball,” she muttered two minutes later.
Diesel grinned, rubbing her backside before giving it a little swat. She was a pain in the ass, and it was clear he really liked her or he’d never put up with her.
“Deal with it,” he told her.
He was expecting a tongue being shoved out at him, but all he got was a light snore. Putting his feet on the coffee table, he settled in for the long haul.
TUESDAY woke up with a jolt, sitting half up, then instantly regretting that action. Her head throbbed. Where the hell was she?
Her bed. Reaching down, she patted herself. She was in her shirt and bra, but had no pants on. Panties were intact. She had no memory whatsoever of going to bed, which was scary. The last thing she remembered was blubbering on Diesel and coming to the realization that he had in fact attended her father’s funeral. Then . . . nothing.
Glancing over, she saw he was in bed with her, sleeping. It looked like he didn’t have a shirt on. Swallowing hard, her mouth as dry as the Sahara, Tuesday concentrated on her inner thighs. Did it feel like she’d had sex? She wasn’t sure, and damn, it would be so disappointing if they had and she didn’t remember it. Curious, she snaked her hand to his side under the blanket and touched his leg. It was bare thigh. She went just a little bit higher and encountered the fabric of his boxer shorts.
Hmm. That didn’t rule out sex though. He could have pulled those back on afterward, though she was starting to think nothing had happened. She’d been so drunk she wouldn’t have bothered to put her panties on afterward. Another two inches of creeping up his leg and she found herself hitting a solid wall of erection. Hello. Despite feeling like ass, she couldn’t help but stroke it just a little. It was such a damn fine penis.
“I’d prefer you do that when I’m awake,” Diesel mumbled, his hand covering hers and stilling her movements.
“You sound awake to me.”
He turned to look at her, tossing his hair out of his eyes. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
“Like crap,” she admitted. “Which I guess is to be expected. I drank a whole bottle of wine, didn’t I?”
He studied her in the early morning light peeking through her blinds. “Actually it was almost two bottles. But who’s counting?”
“Oh, God.” Tuesday shoved her hair off her face. “I’m sorry.”
“It happens.” He shrugged and pulled her over onto his chest.
Her stomach roiled a little and her head spun, but once settled on him, his hot skin felt strangely good on her clammy cheek. She relaxed with a sigh. “If we had sex, I’m disappointed to say I don’t remember it.”
“You blacked out?”
“Yeah, after we were talking in the living room, I don’t remember anything. I don’t have any clue how I got to the bedroom.”
His hand stroking her back felt good, through she could do without her bra. The underwire was jabbing her.
“No? So then you don’t remember us having anal sex.”