The night only had a few hours left in it. How much trouble could they get up to in that time?
“Lucky for you, I’m in the mode for something simple.”
But her breath hitched on the last word. He saw it. She knew it. Wherever they went next, it wouldn’t be simple.
He took a deep breath and opened the passenger door for her. “Then let’s find an all-night diner or something like that.”
Something like that turned out to be a sushi place just north of the 210 because Monica’s phone told her it had the highest Yelp rating of all the local joints.
“Do you eat fish?”
He grinned. “Eat it, catch it, skin it. Yep.”
She laughed. “I only eat it.”
“Let’s put that on your list of things the expensive tutors overlooked.”
Drag racing, fishing, how to keep secrets from her father…there were a lot of things Josh wanted to teach her.Fuck.
In the last four hours, he’d gone from thinking of her as Miss Fischer, a dangerous annoyance, to lovely young Monica, who posed a challenge he was more than up for.
At the restaurant, they pored over the menu together, each suggesting their favourites, which had some convenient overlap. He ordered a beer, and she asked for green tea.
While they waited for the first plates to arrive, he figured he should deal with some unfinished business. “I dodged your question earlier. About your father.”
She frowned, her brow pulling tight. “No, I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”
“Your dad’s an asshole.” He said it straight up.
She burst out laughing. “Okay, so you don’t feel awkward about the question, then…?”
“Not at all. But I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“Ah. That’s nice.” Her lips curved softly. “And now you’re not worried about that?”
“Now I’m quite confident you can compartmentalize how I feel about him from how you feel about it. You’re a smart girl.”
“Woman,” she corrected.
“Barely.”
Her eyebrow quirked. “Is that easier for you? To think of me as Michael Fischer’s daughter? A kid?”
“I didn’t say kid.”
“You said girl.”
“I—” He was glad their drinks arrived. He took a long, slow sip of the refreshingly cold beer. “You just turned twenty-one.”
“And you’re, what, thirty-nine?” She said it like she was joking, like she wanted to get a rise out of him.
“Thirty.”
“Oooh, another milestone birthday.” She lifted her still steaming mug of tea. “Happy birthday, old man.”
“I guess I deserve that.”
“Call my dad an asshole and me a kid? You’re getting off easy.”
