It was Lark’s turn to sniffle. “We love you too.”
“And the feeling is totally mutual,” Aurora added.
Best. Friends. Ever.
I went through the rest of my day feeling like my head was in the clouds, and by the time I got to my dad’s house, I couldn’t have wiped the smile off my face if I’d wanted to, which I absolutely didn’t.
Still in Stone’s truck—and not the least bit bothered by it—I shifted it into park and threw the door open, so excited to finally see my dad that I put a little too much strength behind it, and it nearly slammed back on me.
More careful this time, I opened the door and shot out, all but running all the way up to the front porch, only slowing once I got my key in the lock. I needed to be calm. He didn’t remember what had happened the night he hit me. If there was any mercy at all with this illness, he wouldn’t even have noticed my absence, and that was what I hoped for.
I needed to be as normal as possible to keep him from asking questions.
The door creaked open, and the familiar smells of my childhood home welcomed me back like the warmest, most familiar embrace.
“Dad?” I called as I kicked my shoes off out of habit and lined them up beside the door.
“In here, pumpkin,” he called back, and from the tone of his voice, I knew it was a good day. Thank God. I reached the living room and stutter-stepped so hard at what I saw—or more to the point who I saw—that I would have faceplanted on the rug if I hadn’t caught myself on the doorframe.
“Stone?”
My man was sitting on the sofa across from my father’s recliner, one booted ankle resting on the opposite knee, and a long, thick arm extended across the back. His other hand lazily held an open beer bottle that looked to be half-drunk already against his powerful thigh. He turned to look at me over the back of the couch, smiling in a way that melted my insides. “Hey, mouse.”
My eyes bugged out a little as they bounced from him to my dad and back to him again. I’d been so excited at the thought of seeing my dad that, apparently, I hadn’t noticed Stone’s motorcycle parked out front. “Uh . . . hi? What are you doing here?”
“Your young man came to join us for dinner,” my father beamed. I had to bite back my smile at my father referring to Stone as a young man. He was a hop, skip, and a jump from forty, only a few months shy of being a full decade older than me. “Isn’t that nice, sweetheart?”
I felt my lips curl up into a grin as I looked back at Stone, answering softly, “Yeah. It really is.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were seein’ someone, Willow girl?” Dad asked, and when I looked back at him, I could practically see hearts in his eyes as he looked from me to Stone. He’d never said it, but I knew he worried about me, especially after his diagnosis. I could tell he was scared that his memory would go completely before I had someone else in my life to love me as wholly as he did. It seemed like this big, scary, tattooed biker showing up on his doorstep and announcing himself as my boyfriend was an answer to my father’s prayers.
“Jon and I were just hanging out, talking about cars while we waited on you,” Stone declared.
“Still can’t believe you got a ’70 Chevelle you’re restoring,” Dad said, his eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. With everything that had been going on recently, it had totally slipped my mind that my father was a classic car enthusiast.
“Well, your girl can vouch for it,” Stone replied. “She’s seen it up close and personal.” The heated way he looked over at me made my belly curl in the most pleasurable way, and I knew exactly what he was referring to.
“It’s, um . . .” I had to clear my suddenly dry throat. “It’s a beauty,” I told him, my cheeks catching fire.
“Well, this I gotta see,” Dad said, breaking through the haze of lust fogging my head.
“You name the time, and I’ll make it happen.”
Snapping out of my stupor, I belatedly rounded the couch and moved to my father, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. “Hi, Dad,” I whispered, choking down the lump that had formed in my throat.
“Hey there, pumpkin,” he returned with tender affection. He clasped my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Feels like forever since I’ve seen my girl.”
I understood the feeling more than he could possibly know. “Well, I’m here now. And I’m starving, so how about I start on dinner?”
“I’ll help,” Stone said, rising to his feet. He tilted his chin toward my father’s perspiring, nearly empty glass of iced tea. “Need a refill?”
Dad shook his head and picked up the remote, ready to aim it at the TV to put it on whatever game for whatever sport was currently playing. “I’m good, son, but thanks.”
Stone followed me into the kitchen, and as soon as we were out of sight and earshot, I spun around. “How did you—” I started, but before I could get the rest of my question out, he grabbed me by the hips and pulled me flush against him, and sealed his mouth on mine. The kiss worked to melt my knees, and by the time he pulled back, I’d have been a puddle on the ground had he not been holding onto me.
“Hi,” he rasped in a low, gravelly voice dripping with want. God, I loved it when he used that tone. It meant he was close to losing control.
“Hi,” I whispered back, feeling goosebumps spread across my skin and my nipples tighten into stiff peaks. “Not that I don’t love that I get to see you, but I’m kind of surprised you’re here. I didn’t think we were really at the ‘meet the parents’ stage of our relationship.”
He reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear before dragging his fingers down my temple and cheek, across my jaw. “Didn’t want to go a full night without seeing you.” Okay, I really loved that answer. “And I figured this was as good a night as any to meet your pops. He’s important to you; that means he’s important to me.”
I gave his solid chest a smack before faceplanting into it, my words muffled as I said, “You have to stop being so freaking perfect before you make me cry. I am not a pretty crier. There’s no hiding it, then my dad’ll ask why I’ve been crying, and it’ll just be this whole big thing. So . . . knock it off.”
His chest vibrated with silent laughter that shook my body with it. “All right, baby. I’ll try not to tempt you too much with my perfection.”
I looked up at him with a fierce scowl that I knew had no effect on him, mainly because I didn’t mean it at all.
“Good. Then stop lazing about and help me cook.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Willow
The evening ended on one of the highest notes I’d ever experienced. My dad and Stone had gotten along better than I ever could have imagined. We’d enjoyed a delicious meal full of stories and laughter, and I knew the evening had wound down to an end when Dad started nodding off in his recliner while we all watched TV together.
Stone stuck around while I got my father his meds and got him up to bed, only preparing to leave once I was ready.
Stepping into my house a short while later, I turned to thank him for all he’d done for me tonight, only to have the words dry up on my tongue as he entered my house behind me and closed the door, twisting the lock with a resounding thwunk.