“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.”
“Livy …” he warned with a look.
That look made me think of Slade, and that gave me chills.
No. No. No.
I did not fall for a guy like my dad.
Fall? Had I fallen for Slade Wylder?
“Where’s your friend? Too scared to meet me? That’s not a good sign. If you’re going to let some guy screw you, at least show some of your own scrutinizing taste and make sure he owns a pair of balls.”
“I love this.” My lips pulled into a smirk just before taking another sip of my tea. “I love that we can talk so openly about sex and the balls of the men I’m dating. Mom would be so proud of us.”
Another well-earned frown. “So this guy … you’re dating him?”
Good question.
“I’m not sure. Maybe. Maybe not. We haven’t been on an actual date.”
“For God’s sake, Livy …” He leaned back in his chair and ran his hands through his short, dark hair.
“He’s different.” I let sincerity seep into my words. “We haven’t labeled our relationship, but it’s different than any relationship I’ve had with a guy. You’d like him. He’s very protective of your daughter.”
“If your idea of protective is just some asshole being possessive, then I promise you … I won’t like him.”
I drummed my fingers on the table. “Would you want me to date twenty-something Jackson Knight?”
He grunted a laugh, focusing on his drink, tracing the handle with his finger. “That’s not a fair question.”
“It is. Everyone has said I’m destined to find a man just like you. I’m just curious how that makes you feel.”
“Terrified.”
On a giggle, I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin on them, gazing adoringly at my father. After a few seconds, my smile faded. “I lost everything. I know they’re just things, but … they were my things. And some of them were Mom’s things.”
“What do you need?”
I shrugged. “Slade bought me some clothes, but I need more. My computer is gone. My—”
“Slade?”
I nodded. “That’s his name.”
“It’s a terrible name.”
“It’s a cool name, Jack.”
“Watch it …” He relinquished a grin. “So is this Slade guy a political science major too?”
“He is.”
“Rich family? Or is he working to pay for this place? Roommates?”
“I don’t know anything about his family. We just started screwing … I mean dating.”
Dad’s nostrils flared.
“No roommates. He has a dog, Jericho. A German shepherd. Totally makes me think of Gunner. As for a job … rumor has it, he’s a drug dealer.” My mouth pulled into a toothy grin.
“Not funny, Livy.”
It was quite funny because it was true, at least it was true about the rumors.
“He’s a bodyguard.”
“A bodyguard?”
I nodded. Mine … but that detail wasn’t necessary at the moment.
“Like a bouncer at some club?”
“I don’t know all the details. Again … we’ve only been screwing for a day or so.”
“Go to your room.”
I erupted into more giggles. “Sorry. You set yourself up for that one.”
“Where are you planning on staying now? I’ve looked at some options.” He pulled out his phone and opened the screen. “There’s an elderly couple a half mile from campus who have a room for rent. Two hundred a month. Or a single woman who works nights … she’s in her forties and has a room for rent. She has a pool and security cameras. Or—”
“I’m waiting to see what my friends are doing, but thanks, Dad. That elderly couple option is really tempting.”
He scowled at me, setting his phone on the table. “And in the interim … where are you staying? If you say you’re planning on staying here, I’m going to take your ass home right this minute.”
“Dad …”
“I have a hotel room for the week, and I’ll stay longer if need be. So you’ll stay with me until we find you something.”
“Dad …”
“Don’t give me that look and don’t Dad me. Let’s go get you what you need, grab some lunch, and get checked into the hotel.”
“I’m twenty-one.”
“And homeless. Get anything that’s yours and let’s go.” He stood, sliding his phone into his pocket.
For years, Dad was Daddy, and I was his little girl. My friends loved my daddy. They thought he was handsome. Then, as teenagers, they thought things about him that were very inappropriate and made me nauseous because … he was my dad. When family said I’d marry a man just like my dad, I didn’t like that either.
Seeing my dad, after meeting Slade Wylder, changed the way I looked at him. My dad was ripped. I didn’t care to acknowledge it.
Again … my dad.