“Low.” I shook my head. “You need money or anything? I mean— What the hell am I saying? You didn’t even ask! You’re just staring at me.” I gave Bronte a pleading look. “She’s magic, isn’t she? Do all teens go to some sort of hypnosis training on how to get shit from people?”
“Swear jar.” Amelia held out her hand. “And I did kind of want to DoorDash…”
“A test then.” I opened up my wallet and pulled out my black AmEx. “Do you have the self-control, or will you buy yourself a new wardrobe? This may as well be the ring that makes you Frodo. Don’t let the Seven Kingdoms down. Sauron sees all.”
Her eyes were so wide I thought they would pop off her face. “Are you— Is this — a credit card?”
Bronte let out a groan. “Looks like Not-Your-Dad is about to learn the hard way you never give the teen the credit card. Ever.”
“Mom, don’t ruin it! I can do this.” Her excited gaze flickered to me. “If I do this, what do I get?”
“Respect.” I nodded. “And a puppy?”
“Drew!” Bronte scolded. “You aren’t getting her a puppy!”
“Oh, sorry. I meant a horse. I know a guy.”
“Oh, God.” Bronte burst out laughing. “Someone needs to train you or something. You can’t just—”
“Yes, please.” I grinned. “What do you think, Amelia, can your mom housetrain me?”
“Doubtful.” She sighed. “Very doubtful, and that’s a heck yes on the puppy. I’ll just be taking this.” She waved the card in front of me.
“Make me proud, Frodo!” I ruffled her hair.
“Anything for you, Gimli!”
I frowned at her disappearing figure. “Wait, isn’t that the dwarf with the giant beard?”
“Yup!” She skipped toward the door.
“Aren’t I more of a Legolas?”
She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “You wish, Drew Amhurst. You wish.”
“Hey!”
And then she was gone.
Bronte just shook her head at me with a blinding smile — a rewarding, blinding smile. “You’re seriously spoiling her, and she’s already spoiled.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say that was how it should have been because that was what dads did.
And then I froze up.
I wasn’t her dad.
But I would kick ass as her dad, or kick anyone’s ass if they messed with her. My emotions must have shown on my face, because Bronte was in my arms in seconds, cupping my cheeks, her green eyes searching mine.
“What’s this look, Drew?” she asked softly. “You went from being extremely happy to almost looking lost and then sad. I don’t like it when you do that, and I know I’m probably asking for way too much right now, but I want to understand you, I want to know—”
“I was thinking I was jealous.” I gulped.
“Jealous?” She squinted. “Of what?”
“Your kids’ piece-of-shit dad. Which just makes me feel even shittier because he doesn’t realize what he has — in his own kids, in his gorgeous ex-wife whose body I’m about to strip — and I don’t like it. I don’t like being jealous of someone who doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t play house with you, Drew. It’s already going to kill me when you walk out that door.”
“The only reason I’d be walking out that door would be to get groceries, run any errand you want, or go to the studio. Just know that walking out that door doesn’t mean I’m not fully planning on walking back in.” I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Fuck seven days, Bronte. You’re mine. You get that, right? I’m not playing at anything. This is real.”
“How? How can this be real? We don’t even know everything about each other, and I know you’re still hiding things from me.”
“To protect you,” I whispered, “not to keep you out.”
“What if I don’t want your protection?”
I smiled. “Then you have it anyway. Besides, Rome wasn’t built in a day. I can’t just drop years of baggage in one night, one week, even one month. The only thing you can do is trust me when I say I won’t ever let it affect you, your family, or us. I swear.”
“You can’t swear that.”
“Just did.”
“Drew—”
“Less arguing, more sexing.” I jerked her toward me. “Look at that. I made up a word. Am I the infamous Drew Amhurst or what?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh good. The ego’s back.”
“You love it.” I nipped her lower lip. “If you wanted to date a Bob, you’d be dating a Bob — or a Harry, George, Henry—”
“Dating?”
“But…” I didn’t give her a chance to panic. “…you wanted to date a Drew, and Drews are wild. Drews are unpredictable. Drews like kissing, they like sex, and they’re overconfident — but not to a fault. Drews aren’t selfish in bed, and Drews keep you guessing. And at the end of the day, I’ll admit, Drews are a risk, but I need you to stop playing it safe and take that leap with me, so I don’t fall flat on my ass by myself. Can you do that?”
She opened her mouth and then closed it only to try to speak again. But all she got out was “Dating.”
“Shame on you. I don’t do one-night stands,” I scolded. “PS, will you be my girlfriend? I can write it down so you can circle yes or no, but I figured I couldn’t handle the stress of watching your pencil hover over the no as if you actually had to think about it.”
“Dating.”
“Cool, so that’s a yes.” I smirked and then threw her over my shoulder and slapped her on the ass, enjoying her struggling and pounding on my back with her tiny fists. “You’re adorable; you know that?”
“Where are we—”
I tossed her onto her bed, and she bounced up, her chocolate hair scattering around her shoulders. I kissed her breasts, and her eyes locked on mine in total fear, but right after that fear, her mouth softened, showing need, followed by trust. Then my
