31
SULLIVAN
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Miller.”I extend a hand, and Tate’s father pulls it between two calloused palms and pumps enthusiastically.
“Ah. You’re the man I have to blame for taking my daughter away from me most evenings?”
I clear my throat. “Sir, I?—”
“Dad!” Tate laughs.
“I’m messing with you.” He breaks into a chuckle as we move further into their apartment, and I get my first look at the inside of Tate’s home.
I take it in subtly. The peeling paintwork. What looks like damp on the walls. The way the sounds of the city pass through the old windows like there’s no glass in the battered frames.
The maintenance company I employ to look after the buildings in Molly’s portfolio will have a new priority on their list first thing tomorrow morning.
“Going somewhere special tonight, are you?” he asks, taking in my suit.
“Somewhere I believe your daughter will enjoy, yes,” I reply.
He nods, his warm eyes, so much like Tate’s, twinkling. “Well, enjoy yourselves. Nice to meet you, Sully.” He claps me on the shoulder, then says to Tate, “Larry’s cooking tonight. Wish me luck.”
Giggling, she kisses his cheek. “You’ll be fine, Dad. I gave him some pointers.”
She turns to me as he leaves. “I’m sorry. I called you Sullyonce, and he’s latched on to it.”
“I can’t say anyone else calls me that, but he’s your father, Tate. The man can call me whatever he wants, seeing as he’s letting me date his daughter.”
Her lips twist into a smile. “Is that what we’re doing? Dating?”
“That’s what we’re about to do. If you’ll go and get changed.” I look at her pointedly. “Because as much as you know I love you in your uniform, I think you’ll want to wear something else for this.”
“Sounds mysterious. Can you at least tell me if I should do smart, or?—?”
I clear my throat. “I actually had Cliff deliver something here for you this afternoon that I thought you might like.”
Her brows hitch, and I hold my breath. She might think I’ve overstepped. Or interpret this as further evidence that I hate all of her clothes, which I’ve already told her, I do not. I just hate how I can’t think straight seeing how sexy she is in the ones that hug her curves. And then there are the ones that cover her body like it’s something to hide. Those ones, I really do hate.
“You bought me an outfit?”
“And shoes, jewelry, and… lingerie.”
She holds my eyes, and I stare back.
Put them on, Baby. You’ll look breathtaking.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
She grabs my hand and pulls me down the hall and into her bedroom. The smile that bursts over her face at the sight of the silk-ribbon tied boxes on her bed makes my chest tighten. She’s never been treated in this way, that much is obvious. But she deserves to be lavished with gifts and beautiful things.
She deserves me to spoil her like I intend to.
“Oh my God,” she gasps, tentatively lifting the lid off the largest box and gazing at the gold silk dress inside. “Did you choose this?”
“I did.”
Listening to Sinclair talk about designers of gowns who she models for came in useful. A few calls to the right people, and Tate now has a dress that isn’t even available to the public yet.
