“I do. She’s amazing. Not who I expected, to be honest, but I’m happy Wayne found her. She’s perfect for him.”
Again with the head tilt to the side, I wonder what he’s pondering this time. “She’s definitely all that.” When he doesn’t say anything else and just looks at me, I grow uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
“What?”
“Why do you keep calling your father Wayne?” His question shocks me to my core. I jerk back like he physically slapped me, causing his brows to snap together.
“That’s really none of your business,” I snap, the walls never far from the surface snapping in place in an instance. I have no intention to discuss my fucked-up family with this man.
“You’re right, it’s not. I’m sorry for prying. It’s just… I notice how it much it hurts Wayne every time you call him by his first name,” he says in a conciliating voice.
His tone of voice does nothing to lessen the hurt his words caused. I know me not calling Wayne ‘dad’ hurts him every time I do it. And even though he’s been amazing over the past weeks, that doesn’t eradicate the fact he’s been absent for the past fourteen years when I desperately needed my father. Someone good and steady to counteract the malicious force that is my mother. How do I explain to Kade—who’s probably only ever seen Wayne as this incredible man who’d give his last shirt to someone who needed it—I feel a disconnect to my own flesh and blood. It’s hard to explain my feelings without sounding like a resentful child. He’ll probably never understand what it’s like to have a family that’s always made you feel like a burden, the unpredictability that comes with it, the knowledge you can’t count on family, the one thing you’re supposed to always be able to do.
None of this would make any sense to Kade. Hell, it barely makes sense to me. All I know is that I don’t feel a connection to Wayne like I’m supposed to as his daughter. I’m more like an imposter. It doesn’t feel right to call him ‘dad’ when that’s not how I see him, unfortunately.
“I don’t mean to hurt him. It’s just… It’s complicated,” I say, burying the hurt deep since I know he didn’t mean to inflict any on purpose. “There’s a lot you don’t understand.”
“Why don’t you enlighten me then?” His voice is still soft and soothing, like he’s talking to a skittish foal. “I’d like to understand.” He places his hand on my hand, a calming presence that makes my skin tingle.
I wish I could confide in him. Even though he’s apologized for what he said about me, it doesn’t mean I trust him to keep my secrets. And I’m not ready for Wayne, or anyone else, to know all of my dark secrets. It’s bad enough they think I recklessly endangered the life of a child, no need to give them more ammunition, which is exactly what would happen if I told Kade all of my ugly truths.
“I can’t,” I whisper, not looking at him.
“Okay. I understand.” He slowly caresses my skin with his thumb. Something I never expect to be soothing my anxiety. “I haven’t given you many reasons to trust me.” Suddenly I can feel his breath against the shell of my ear, his heat warming my side where leaned into me. “I intend to change that.”
“What? Why?”
I lean away from him, his closeness overpowering my senses to the point where I can’t think. He raises his hand while the corner of his mouth lifts and tucks a strand of wayward hair behind my ear. “Because I find you fascinating. You’re this combination of defiance and kind-heartedness you’re hiding behind an ice-princess exterior and only show the horses you work with. Frankly, it makes me want to see what I would have to do to melt your icy façade.”
His words and the intensity behind them catch me by surprise. Unable to deal with all that is Kade, I get up from the couch and move toward the kitchen. “I’m starved. What about you?”
He only shakes his head at my obvious avoidance of the topic. “Sure, I could eat.” Since I have my back turned, I don’t see his face, but I can clearly hear him when he says, “Though, food wasn’t what I was thinking about.”
As soon as his words register, I stumble and nearly walk into the kitchen island. I swallow hard, fighting the arousal his words threaten to rise. I can’t believe he just said that to me.
Still keeping my back turned, I steel my voice and resolve to resist the sexy man behind me. “You shouldn’t talk to me like this. It isn’t right.”
It’s his turn to be confused at my word. “What are you talking about?”
I take a deep breath, gathering my resolve around me like a security blanket, and turn around to look at him, the kitchen island between us. “Lauren.”
The bewilderment on his face only deepens. “What about Lauren? What does she have to do with anything?”
“Are you for real?” I say in anger. I can’t believe he would pretend to be this ignorant. “Are you seriously pretending that us kissing, or you coming on to me like this”—I throw my hand out toward the living room—“has nothing to do with Lauren?”
“I don’t see how any of this has anything to do with her,” he says, his voice rising in frustration.
“Well, I don’t know about her,” I start, my voice dripping with scorn at his attitude. I can’t believe I just started to think he’s a decent guy. “But if my boyfriend was kissing other women I’d like to know. In fact, I kicked my ex’s ass when I found him cheating on me, literally. I will not”—I
