“Whatever you say,Daddy,” I snap, letting the sarcasm ooze out.
His forehead vein pulses. Oh. He hates that.
“Do you ever take anything seriously?” he grits out.
“Do you ever not?” I shoot back.
The way he looks at me suggests the answer isnever.
“I’ve had women near death on my operating table because they trusted the wrong man. So forgive me if I don’t find your cavalier approach to safety amusing.”
The intensity in his voice makes my skin prickle. Damn him for using that commanding surgeon tone.
And double damn him for being right.
“Message received,” I mutter. “I’m officially scolded.”
“Are you?” His tone says he remains unconvinced.
I narrow my eyes. “I know exactly what you’re thinking.”
“I sincerely doubt that.”
“Oh, I do. You think I’m some desperate ho-bag who throws herself at anything with a pulse and a Cavendish surname.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “A . . .ho-bag? I said nothing of the sort. It’s certainly not in my vocabulary. Or, for that matter, the Oxford English Dictionary.”
“It doesn’t need to be,” I huff. “Yourfacesays it. Your nostrils. Your eyebrows. Your jaw . . .” I gesture vaguely at his entire head. “They’re very judgmental features. They’re all judging me. Every single one of them.”
“Don’t be absurd. One cannot read judgement from . . . nostrils.”
“Oh,Ican read yours loud and clear. They’re blaring ‘Daisy, you’re an idiot.’”
He lets out a measured breath. “This conversation is bordering on idiocy. But no, Daisy, I do not think you’re an idiot. Impulsive? Yes. Reckless? Certainly. Questionable judgment on background checks? Without a doubt. But not an idiot.”
“Wow, thanks for the glowing psychological evaluation, Dr. Cavendish.”
He sighs again, clearly exasperated by my antics.
“What?” I huff. “If you’re going to judge me, at least do it out loud. Your nostrils are working overtime.”
His jaw tightens. “My nephew.”
“Yes, Edward, your nephew,” I bite back, my defensiveness kicking into overdrive. “Is there a point buried in there, or are we just playing a game where you randomly shout out family members?Yes, I went on a few dates with your nephew. The same nephew I didn’t realize was your nephew until it was too late. What’s your point?”
“He’s young.”
My chest clenches tight, that old, familiar sting of letting someone down slicing through me.
I throw my hands up. “Oh, for god’s sake, stop acting like I kidnapped him from daycare. We’re both in our twenties! You’re the one who’s practically prehistoric.”
“I’m thirty-nine.”
“Exactly. One foot in the grave.”
His nostrils flare, which is deeply satisfying.
I smirk, just to get under his skin. “Besides, your nephew can actually be quite charming. You know, when he’s impersonating you. Not thatyou’recharming. But he’s fun. He took me to jazz in Soho and an adorable wine bar near here.”
