The thing that counts, but now I’m right back to where I started. And there’s no sign of Dillon either.
Just when I feel my heart sinking, the routine negative thoughts seeping in, I catch the smell of coffee, then the sizzle of bacon.
My heart skips a beat when I push open the kitchen door and see Dillon wearing nothing but an apron, cooking me what smells like the best breakfast in the world.
“Morning!” he says cheerfully, leaning backwards to plant a kiss on my lips. He tastes like hot toast, butter and bacon. Everything I want in me right now, and more.
More of him, for sure.
I feel like a hobo wearing my baggy track pants and sweater, but Dillon’s eyes run over me again as I go to the sliding door to check on the resident dog, Baxter.
“I fed the little one,” Dillon says with a chuckle.
“I think we forgot last night, he was a little hungry.”
I cringe as Baxter leans up against the glass doors, forcing me to open them before he smashes them.
Baxter’s a hundred fifty pound Irish Wolf Hound. He lives outside, but he just seems to know Dillon has something he wants.
I know the feeling.
“Baxter, sit,” Dillon says, putting a piece of bacon behind his back, making Baxter sit and wait nicely before giving him his treat.
I’ve never seen Baxter so well-behaved. Walking him is like a sleigh ride, but when Dillon speaks, he listens.
“I think he likes you,” I observe, my eyes widening as a plate of eggs, sausage and bacon appear before me, with toast, coffee and juice at the table.
“Dig in,” Dillon says, helping himself to a double portion of the same and taking a set on the other side of the table.
“What’s up?” he asks, reading my face like the morning paper.
“I have to call my dad… those messages from last night…” I begin.
Dillon’s brow darkens and he nods.
“I took care of it. Those messages on the machine… it was your dad. But it’s fixed now. You can call him after breakfast.”
It’s my turn to give a dark look.
“Uh. Excuse me?” I say sharply, letting my fork and knife fall to the tabletop. I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.
“I think I’ll decide when I check messages in the house I’m sitting from now on, and I think I’ll decide when I call my own dad!”
I spin on my seat, and get up to leave.
Dillon doesn’t even call after me, he just lets me storm off.
I go check the machine. All the messages are deleted.
Fuck!
I know my dad can’t reach me right now on my cell. He only has a prepaid and the way things are, he never has any credit. The building he rents has a payphone, so he’s been calling me at the housesitting job to save money.
I should’ve called him last night. I should’ve checked those messages…
I quickly dial my dad’s number and he picks up almost straight away, like he’s right by the phone, which is weird.
“Roxy…” he says, almost absently. “Uh, I can’t talk right now. Can I call you back? Kinda busy.”
I frown again, my head jerking back in time with the stab of hurt in my chest.
“Uh… sure, okay,” I say sarcastically. “I’m fine by the way dad, I hope you are too!”
I slam the phone down, feeling so angry and hurt without knowing exactly why. I feel my lip quivering and then the tears again.
I race up the stairs, hurling myself onto the bed like a child having a tantrum.
I hate this. I hate not knowing what to do next. I thought Dillon had this, had me. But now I feel like he’s railroaded my whole life in one night… Even my own dad doesn’t want to talk to me.
Men!.
CHAPTER TEN
Dillon
I let out a low growl of frustration, Baxter raises his brows. His chin planted firmly on the Oriental rug as his head pokes out from under the dining table.
“I guess we’re both in the doghouse, Baxter?”
I tell him, shaking it off and telling myself I’ll let Roxy cool off for a while then I’ll go try talk some sense into her.
Do all women fly off the handle like that? I wouldn’t know.
Since I can remember, I’ve been a lone bird. A solo flyer. I get things done that need doing, I do what I have to to get by. I don’t think I did anything wrong.
Did I?
Maybe she doesn’t like eggs?
Maybe it was the dog thing… I dunno.
Hearing her slam the phone down and then run upstairs, I jump as she slams the bedroom door.
Is this the same girl I fell in love with last night?
A sly grin spreads across my face.
Yeah. It sure is. She’s got plenty of fire and I like that.
I like it a lot.
If I don’t wanna get burned, I’ll let her simmer down and then we’ll sort this out.
I know she’s pissed about me taking charge, I get that part. I called her dad back after hearing the messages he left for Roxy.
He’s in deep with Marconi, that’s for sure. But he wasn’t gonna tell me that. I could just tell. I started work with Marconi as one of those goons. I know the drill. It’s the part I don’t really want Roxy to know about. The part I don’t even want to remember. I’m trying to help her and her dad Carl who seems like a reasonable guy.
Until it comes to an older man and his daughter.
I haven’t mentioned the call to Roxy yet. It was… delicate to say the least.
Delicate because I had to bite down on my tongue so hard I nearly bit through it.
“I’m just a friend of Roxy’s…” I told him.
“I understand you have some problems with Mario Marconi…”
“What?” he exclaimed, “Who the fuck told you that? It’s none of your business…. Where’s Roxy? I wanna speak to my daughter… If you’ve hurt her, I’ll…”
At that point I held the phone out, letting him run his course.
I can see where Roxy gets her
