Sliding the phone in my pocket, I slam the tailgate closed and plaster on my fake smile as I make my way toward them. I tone down my sex appeal, shifting my smile from coy and seducing to more friendly.
Yes, there is a man, but there is also a woman and her three children standing next to him and the last thing she needs to feel is that I’m flirting with her man. Insecure women do not tend to buy cars and if mama says no, I’m not getting a sale.
HAWK
“Have you decided to grow the fuck up yet?” Trista asks, walking up beside me.
I’m sitting at the bar, a bottle in hand.
Turning my head, my brows rise as I look over at her. She’s frowning, her gaze focused on mine and nowhere else.
“Grow up?” I ask.
She nods her head, lifting her hand. I watch as the prospect hands her a bottle of water. She arches a brow, her gaze never leaving mine, but a small smirk appears on her lips.
“It’s been months. You’re either a pussy or you didn’t really like her that much. Though, I doubt it’s the latter because Avah is fucking fantastic and totally your type.”
I snort, knowing that my daughter has hit the nail on the head, but I’m not willing to admit it, at least not right now and probably never, at least to her and probably not out loud.
“You’re saying all of this because?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes to the ceiling, then brings her gaze back to meet my own. “She’s lonely. She hasn’t been dating and she’s been doing nothing but working. Go and get her, Hawk. Bring her home.”
“Home?” I ask.
Her lips twitch into a grin. “You love her and I’ll get her back. This is where she belongs, with us—her family.”
Fuck but my daughter could bring a man to tears. I hope she brings Taz to bitch baby cry fests. Clearing my throat, I lean back.
“How do you know my type, anyway?” I ask, changing the subject.
Trista presses her lips together. “My mother wasn’t nice, but she was beautiful and a hellcat when she wanted to be. She could be funny and sweet too, when she felt like it. She wasn’t always sour and bitter. I know you fell for her, because of those good things and not the bad. I know you left because of the bad and I know you thought you were doing it not just for the club, but for my benefit too.”
“You hate me any less?” I ask, trying to keep my voice from sounding like I’m on the verge of tears.
“No,” she whispers. “But, I don’t hate you. I don’t like you very much for walking away from me, but I don’t hate you, couldn’t.”
Inside, I’m beaming with pride that this girl is mine—my daughter. On the outside, my lips twitch into a small smile. Lifting my hand, I cup her cheek briefly, then let it fall down to my side.
Clearing my throat, I force the lump that had found its way in the middle, down. “She needs to find her happiness, Tristiana. She needs to find someone who can love her, give her a good life, and a family.”
“You can give her all of that,” she points out.
“Can’t do that. Already fucked up with you, can’t give her kids.”
She snorts. “You’re a pussy. Firstly, do you even know if she wants kids? Secondly, maybe you’d like to have a kid and actually be around it? If you think it would piss me off, it wouldn’t. I have my own family to start.”
My eyes widen and they dip down to her belly, then flick over to the water in her hand before I shift them to meet hers.
“You need to tell me something?” I demand.
“Not much, but do you like Poppa or Pappy?”
My breath leaves my lungs. Pregnant. My daughter is going to have a baby and I’m going to be a goddamn grandfather. Fuck. I’m old enough to be a grandfather, at least in age, but fuck me, I do not feel old enough.
“Happy for you,” I murmur.
She laughs softly, lifting her hand and for the first time in I can’t remember how long, she wraps her fingers around the side of my throat.
“I have peace with what happened in the past. I can’t hold a grudge, not anymore. I don’t hate you for trying to give me a good life. You thought you were doing the right thing. I get it,” she whispers. “But you can’t punish yourself forever and you can’t walk away from a chance at happiness.”
“Happiness,” I grunt.
Trista shakes her head, then tilts it to the side and smirks at me as her fingers fall from the side of my neck.
“I admit, I was really grossed out at first. I mean, my father and my best friend? Gross.”
My shoulders shake as I silently laugh at her description and the way her nose wrinkles as she watches me. She straightens her head, her gaze focused on mine and nowhere else, all laughter is gone from her and I clear my throat as I nod and wait for her to continue.
“But there’s something missing in both of you since you came home without her. Whatever you had, and I do not want to know, it was something that I think you both needed.”
“She ain’t doin’ well?” I demand.
Trista’s lips curve up into a grin. “You care?” she asks. “Why?”
With a growl, I stand to my feet while she laughs. Fucking women. Trista rolls her eyes, then finally decides to answer me.
“Something is up, I don’t know what it is. I can’t tell and she’s not talking to me about it. She needs to come home, Dad.”
Without another word, she turns
