Page 117 of Hard to Handle

“Hardly the gigolo, but you and your sisters’ well-being was more important to me.” His smile warms my heart as much as his words do. “What else do you have milling about in that mind of yours?”

“Did you ever love any of them?”

“A few, yes. Not in the same way I loved your mom. I mean, look at what she and I created together.” His eyes fill with tears. “You and your sisters and this agency, but yes, I think I may have loved one or two.”

“I don’t even know what to say. My mind is blown.”

“Why?”

“Weren’t you scared to be hurt? Weren’t you . . .” My voice fades off.

“Ah,” he says, his fingers steepled in front of him, as if I finally got to the point he was waiting for me to get to.

“Ah, what?”

“Part of putting yourself out there, Dekker, is opening yourself up to getting hurt.”

I stare at him for a beat and try to figure out how to put the jumble in my head at peace and turn the last key in the lock chained around my heart.

“Not that kind of hurt . . . the kind . . .” My eyes well with tears I attempt to blink away as my dad rises from his chair and moves toward the seat next to me. He turns my chair to face him like he used to do when I was a little girl, about to get a scolding or be taught a life lesson.

“The kind where the person dies and your insides feel like they’re broken and your heart will never recover let alone beat again?”

I don’t trust myself to speak. His words are too damn close to the truth, so I nod and when I do, the first tear slips over.

“It’s always there in the back of your mind, because that’s a pain someone never forgets, but Dekk, finding someone to love again is how you know you’re not broken. It’s how you know your heart can still beat again. It’s the cure and the demise all at the same time. To be able to love again means you’re still alive.”

He reaches out and wipes a tear off my face like he did when I was a kid, his hands still feel so big even now that I’m older. I lean my cheek into his hand as his eyes meet mine. “Love is powerful, Dekker. It’s why you’re here. It’s why you try so hard to please me. It’s why you fight doggedly with your sisters. But it’s also so very powerful when you find the one you want to give it to. Don’t ever be afraid. You can’t give half a heart, that’s equivalent to giving someone your broken heart. No, you have to give them all of it and trust that they’ll hold on to it and protect it.”

The knock on the door shocks both of us apart to turn to look toward the interruption. “Come in,” my father says.

And the shock that floods through me when Hunter opens the door and peeks his head in. “Mr. Kincade. Hi. Sorry for the interruption. I wanted to see if Dekker was free for lunch.”

“No need to be sorry,” my dad says. I wait for the shift from doting father to savvy agent as he crosses the distance toward Hunter to shake his hand. But it never happens. Instead he shakes Hunter’s hand and pats the side of his shoulder. “Looking good out there. First round down, second starting, what? Tomorrow?”

“Yes, sir.” Hunter nods. “We’re headed to the airport in a few hours.”

“Good luck, son. You’re going to need it.”

“Don’t I know it.”

My father looks back to me with something I can’t read before nodding to Hunter and leaving the conference room.

I’m left to stare at Hunter as he leans against the shut door behind him and meets my eyes. He has a dark blue Henley on with jeans. His hair is styled and his grin is wide, and I’m sure the emotions I just shared with my dad are sitting on my sleeve for him to see.

For him to decipher.

For him to realize.

“You’ve got a lot of balls showing up here.” I laugh as I close the distance toward him.

He shrugs. “Agents are a dime a dozen.”

“Then switching agents should be no big deal,” I tease and then am more than surprised when he tugs against my waist to pull me in for a soft kiss that steals my breath and incites my pulse.

“Hi,” he says when he leans back.

“Hi.” I’m breathless and my knees feel like rubber. How does he do that so damn easily?