And then she whispers that she’d like to go back to our tent and give me my first-place prize.
I can’t pay the bill fast enough, and since I’m operating with cash, that makes it pretty fucking fast.
We stumble out into the parking lot, drunk on nothing more than happiness and horniness, my arm looped around her neck,her hand tucked into my back pocket, my throat a tad sore from all of the karaoke, and it hits me.
I’m not paranoid anymore.
Not worried about not having security.
Not worried someone will recognize us.
Not even worried they’ll talk about the size of the tip I left on the table inside.
I’m free.
I’m completely, totally, undeniablyfree.
That’s exactly what I’m thinking when we reach the little SUV. I’ve put my hand on the passenger handle to unlock and open it for Daphne when I catch up to the fact that all is not, in fact, well.
There’s a man watching us.
And he’s not only watching us.
He’swaitingfor us.
Leaning casually against the side of a Mercedes sedan two empty spaces over from us.
Arms folded.
Glaring at us in the light of the moon.
I’m caught between wanting to tell Daph to leave without me and the still-instinctive response of kowtowing to authority, and I don’t find my spine fast enough.
Because Daphne’s caught sight of who’s here.
But her whimpered gasp—yeah.
That does it.
That helps.
“Get in the car,” I murmur to her.
“Don’t even think of getting in that car,” her father replies. “The three of us need to have a talk.”
32
I DON’T TALK TO YOU FOR A REASON
Daphne
There aren’tmany things in life that I can’t roll with.
Not after everything I’ve been through since being disinherited.
But my father showing up in the middle of nowhere, Colorado, all the way across the country from New York, is a punch to the gut that I can’t immediately get over.
He hasn’t called.
