He shrugs, a little bit of a sheepish expression covering his features. “I had a thing for the character Julie Taylor on Friday Night Lights when I was younger.”
“Oh my God! I had a thing for Eric Taylor!”
“Her dad?” His face contorts in disgust. “He’s like a hundred.”
“I’ve always been into older men,” I admit with a shrug, and then I wink at him. “You’re the exception, not the rule, boy toy.”
He grins and pulls me into him, holding me tight, and I cling to him just as fiercely. He gently pulls away, stopping to kiss my forehead, then claiming me in another kiss just as passionate as the last. I’m the one who breaks it this time, because if I don’t, I’ll have to find an empty room and fuck him senseless. “I wish I could take you home.”
“You need to focus on your dad.” He kisses my neck and then my cheek. I shiver with need. “And the fact is, we still have a big problem and no solution. So that’s our last kiss for a while.”
Right. The rules. Him or my career. The rock and the hard place.
His expression darkens, his smile fading and his mouth slipping into a serious line. “Remember, I’m not going anywhere. If you need me, I’m here.”
“Okay.”
He hugs me so hard he lifts me off my feet, and everything inside me feels warm and relaxed. He takes my hand and we leave the little alcove and walk to the elevators.
“So, am I listed under a fake name in your phone?” he asks as we wait.
“Yeah.”
The elevator arrives, and he steps inside next to an orderly and a doctor holding a chart. “Who?”
“Justin Bieber.”
His horrified face as the elevator doors close is priceless.
I walk back into my dad’s room, grinning, because I can’t wipe it off. He watches me intently as I plop down on a chair next to him. “Enid, honey, forget the shotgun. Any boy who makes my Little D smile like that is okay by me.”
That makes my grin grow. “He’s a good friend for now. That’s all.”
“Sweetie, we raised you not to lie,” my mom says in a serious tone with a giant smile.
I cover my face with my hands and laugh. “You guys, cut me some slack.”
“Okay, for now, but when I get home I’m going to grill you,” he warns and coughs again.
My mom stands. “I’m going to get you some fresh water.” She takes the small plastic cup with the lid off the tray beside his bed.
“Make it a beer.”
My mom chuckles as she heads out of the room. My dad is silent for a few minutes, with his eyes closed. I assume he’s drifting off, but then he says, “Dixie, honey, shouldn’t you be back at work?’
“I would only be getting back from the road trip this afternoon if I’d stayed there,” I explain and inch my chair closer so I can lean on the edge of his bed. “And I need to be here. If they don’t like it, they can fire me.”
“I don’t want you and Jude messing up your careers over me.” The guilt in his voice slices through me as if it’s a buck knife.
“Don’t worry about that. First of all, Jude is their top player. He can do virtually anything he wants,” I say. “Players would have to murder someone at center ice to get their hand slapped by the management.”
His blue eyes flare at that, because my bitterness is more than apparent. He moves, struggling a bit to pull himself up a little on his pillows. I reach for the remote and tap it, moving the top part of his bed up a bit. He smiles gratefully, but his expression quickly turns back to concern. “The players are the heroes, and you and the rest of the people behind the scenes are the unsung heroes. It’s the way it is in any sport. You knew that going in.”
“I did. But the team is owned by a woman, the most incredible businesswoman I’ve ever heard of, so I guess maybe I thought they would be different.” I sigh. “I’m just tired and cranky. It happens when your dad scares you to death.”
I smile at him, and he smiles back. “You know I’m just as proud of you as I am of Jude, right?”
“I know.”
