"Do you want that some day?" I ask Hugo. He doesn't talk much about dating. I think a lot of it has to do with his dad's death. Hugo once told me it's difficult to date with that in his past. If he says it on the first date, women either get spooked, or weirdly into it. If he saves it for a later date, women feel like it's something he should have revealed sooner.How do you tell somebody your dad was murdered, and the case is still unsolved?he'd asked.I understood, to a much lesser degree. I wasn't particularly jazzed about telling dates at any point in the dating stage about my childhood.
Hugo looks at the spot where the old couple danced. "I want that," he confirms. "My fencing career is behind me. I'm back home for good. I'm helping run the mill. And..." he sighs. "I want that. How about you?"
"More than anything." Funny how, just one month ago, that would not have been my answer.
"With Daisy?" Hugo asks, pushing the last of his sandwich into his mouth.
"How can you ask that when you're friends with Duke, too? Don't get me wrong, I prefer you on my side."
Hugo shrugs. "Duke's my friend, but so is Daisy. And she doesn't look at him the way she looks at you." He lifts his flattened palms in front of his chest. "I'm just calling it like I see it."
Chapter 45
Penn
By the timeI get back to my house to feed Slim Jim, the soft rain has turned into a downpour. It's raining so hard that at first I don't notice the sedan parked on the street, but it would be impossible to miss the man standing under the front porch overhang at my house.
He's put together, wearing dress slacks, a collared button-up shirt, and tan trench coat. Not a single silver hair is out of place, and it serves to sharpen an already shrewd gaze.
"Hello?" I say, stepping out of the rain. I don't immediately recognize this person, but he knows me.
"Penn Bellamy," he says evenly, and it's frustrating I don't remember him. I don't like being at a disadvantage.
"I'm Glenn Hampton. Duke's dad."
Of course. The icy blue eyes, sharp and calculating, are exactly like his son's. The last time I saw this man, he was standing over a crouching thirteen-year-old Duke, raging at him.
"What do you want?"
"I saw my son this morning at the office. His cheek was…" He pauses, like he's searching for the word, but it feels too practiced. Too on purpose. A boardroom tactic. "Colorful."
"That's nice," I say dispassionately. "What do you want?"
"He told me how he got it."
"And?"
"Have you ever been charged with battery?"
"Can't say I have."
"Hmm. That might be something you'll have firsthand knowledge of soon. I'm encouraging my son to press charges."
Fuck. This isn't good.
"I know you didn't come here just to say that to me, so spit it out. What else do you want?"
"I want you gone. You pose a threat to my son's relationship with his fiancée."
"That's between me, Daisy, and Duke. Nowhere in there were the wordsGlenn Hampton."
"You better watch it, boy. I will make your life hell. That payout you took to leave town when you were thirteen? Did you really think Daisy's dad had the money? That money came from me." He points back at himself. "I set your mother up in San Diego. I bought that condo near the beach, and put it in her name."
What. The. Fuck?
My mind races, trying to understand his words, his revelation, the reason behind it. But I can't. I'm coming up with nothing.
"Why would you do all that?" I ask.
