“Yep. I found out after my mom died, and I decided to show up on my dad’s doorstep, at the tattoo shop rather than his house because that was the only place I could find on the internet. Not the smartest thing to do as a ten-year-old. The foster family I’d been staying with at the time freaked out but then were eager to let me go.”
“Were you a troublemaker?”
“Maybe? I just wasn’t happy. And I didn’t even know my dad existed, but then he did, and he was fucking scary.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“He was a big dude, bigger than me, broad shoulders, huge beard, and covered in tattoos. Like completely covered. I thought he was some deranged biker who was going to murder me. But then again, that was probably better than some of the foster families I had met along the way.”
“And he wasn’t a scary deranged murderer?” I asked, oddly worried even though I knew that couldn’t be true.
“Not at all. He was a softy. A good man. And he met my stepmom around the time he met me. And we just fell into one another. I love my family, and it keeps growing day by day. I don’t know what I would do without them.”
“I don’t know what I would do with such a big family. I mean, it was just me and my parents for so long.”
“It can be a lot. They’re always in your business, always wanting to know what’s going on. Having something for myself, something that nobody else knows, is a novelty.”
“So you haven’t told them about the random American girl you met in Paris?”
We stood underneath a lamplight, the moon beginning to rise, the Eiffel Tower doing its sparkle thing that it loved to do.
“No. Not because I’m hiding you, but because I don’t want to break this. Ruin this moment with so many questions. Does that make sense?”
I swallowed hard and put my hand over his chest. “Nobody knows about you either. Not even the girls.”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
“They’re all with their guys, and they think that I like to go on long walks by myself, or stay the night in random places. But no, I just want this moment with you because I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He slid his hand behind my hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing either.”
“Okay. That sounds good.”
And then his lips were on mine, and I couldn’t breathe.
This moment would end soon, I knew it. There was a fraction of time before reality would settle in. But I didn’t want to think of reality. I only wanted to think of him.
The next day.
“You’re all packed up,” I said, my throat tight.
“Yes, but I have a couple more days. I wanted to make sure that I didn’t have to spend time packing when I could just be with you. Which sounds ridiculous, and presumptuous, but here we are.”
“I don’t want to think about tomorrow. Or the next day.” An urgency washed through me, and my hands shook.
“We won’t. We’ll just think about now.” I put my hands on his chest, and I went to my tiptoes.
“Will you draw me like one of your French girls?” I whispered, fluttering my eyelashes. His eyes widened before he burst out laughing.
“I thought I was the one that kept using the Jack Dawson lines.”
“Let me go with Rose then. What do you say?”
“They’ll just be for me,” he whispered as his hands slid up my shirt. Goosebumps pebbled over my flesh and I swallowed hard. When his hand continued to move up to cup my breast, I arched into him.
“Leif,” I whispered.
“Shh,” he muttered against my lips. “Let me take my time. And then set you up exactly how I want you.”
