Page 70 of Hard to Love

She lifts her brows. “You have a favorite Disney movie?”

“Well, let me correct that comment. When I’m forced to watch Disney movies with my cousins’ kids, that’s the one I’m partial to.”

Her smile widens. “Even that surprises me. You seem like a man who no one forces to do anything.”

Except for meeting you. That first meeting in Carson’s suite flashes through my mind.

“For the most part.” He shrugs. “Besides, the hero’s name is Flynn Rider so I figure it’s close enough to assume they were writing about me. . .”

“Oh Jesus.” She barks out a laugh. “Ego much?”

“Flynn. Finn. Close enough for me,” I tease.

She shakes her head with an adorable smile on her lips and asks, “Do you have a big family?”

“No. I mostly know my dad’s side of it, hence the cousins.”

“What’s your dad like?”

My sigh is heavy. “Like someone I never want to be like.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“You’re fine. It is what it is. My mom leaving turned him into a bitter man who wanted to make his son be the same.”

“So you don’t see him much?”

“He died of a heart attack years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. He wasn’t exactly the nicest man. Never a kind or supportive word, something I didn’t realize until I worked with Carson for a while, actually. After my mom left, he took any and every opportunity to push his agenda. Tough love wasn’t even on his radar. As I said, bitter.”

“Well, if it’s worth noting, he failed. His son isn’t bitter. His son is successful and polite albeit demanding at times, and good at many things.”

“Should my ego swell with pride at that last part?” I ask, wanting my father nowhere near whatever this is with Stevie.

“No complaints here.”

I lean back in my chair, my elbows on the armrests, and a margarita in my hand as I angle my head and stare at her.

We’ve been here for almost an hour, and it’s been . . . effortless. Normally on a date, I don’t care much for the conversation. I haven’t cared about the conversation. Women have been there for my purposes alone, and at the end of the night, once I’ve pleasured them and got what I needed, I’ve sent them on their way. I’ve kept them at arm’s length, never wanting anything else. I’ve kept my father’s words foremost in my heart—that women are nothing more than a distraction, who will play you and screw you over—even though the man was filled with resentment and misery.

And yet I care about what this woman says, someone I should consider completely off limits both because she’s my client and nearly a decade younger than me. Why? What made her the woman I see in front of me?

“Who are you, Stevie Lancaster?” I don’t mean to put words to my thoughts but they’re out before I can stop them.

“I’m just a girl who likes the simple things most days and the roar of a crowd on others.”

“Do you like it? The crowd?”

Stevie sits back, her eyes watching her fingers trace around the rim of her glass before meeting my eyes. “It’s what I do and all I know. I mean, I’ve been doing this, competing professionally and training, for ten years.”

“But do you still love it? The fanfare, the competition, the crowds?”

A smile ghosts her lips and tears mist in her eyes. “It’s a rush and if anyone tells you differently, they’re lying. But it’s also like being in a pressure cooker that can either explode because the lid isn’t screwed on properly or it can create the most perfect meal.” She snorts and places a hand to the middle of her face like a little girl would. “That was the lamest thing I’ve ever said. Oh my God, I’m such a dork.”

“I just told you I had a favorite Disney movie so I’m pretty sure I already took that title.”