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“For me, Logan. Do it for me?”
I closed my eyes. “For you.”
* * *
“I’m buying your dinner,” Tavy said the next night as she sat across the table from me.
“Damn right you are.” I reached for my glass of water, nausea swimming in my belly at the thought of facing Smoke after our conversation.
Tavy and I sat in a corner booth of the bar and grill while we waited for Smoke.
“Does he know I’m here? Or did you pretend this was just one of your father daughter dinners?” I asked.
“Um…”
“Tavy, no. We’re ambushing him!”
“The conversation was going to be an ambush no matter what,” she protested. “So might as well do it with you here.”
“Well, at least you warned me.”
“Ouch. That hurts a little. You don’t think I should do this?”
“What? Tell your dad about your grandfather in a public place with me here? Definitely not.”
“But you do think I should tell him.”
“I think your family is your family.”
“That’s diplomatic of you,” she muttered. “Crap. There’s Dad.”
Smoke strode across the restaurant and my heart jumped into my throat. He wore his leather cut and jeans, his muscular, tattooed arms on display. His clean-shaven jaw made him look younger, almost boyish, as did the smile appearing on his lips when he saw Tavy.
When he realized I was there, his grin dissipated and he frowned.
Tavy slid out of the booth and embraced him.
“Hope you don’t mind that Logan’s here,” Tavy said, her voice pitched unusually high.
Smoke pulled back from his daughter. “Not at all.”
“We waited to order drinks,” Tavy said, sitting back down and sliding all the way over so Smoke could take the spot next to her.
I had a direct line of site to the man who I didn’t know if I was still sleeping with.
The server arrived at our booth and took our drink orders.
“Haven’t seen you for a few days,” Smoke said to Tavy. “How are things?”
“Things are good,” she said.
“The job?”
“Good.”
I played with the straw in my soda.
“How are you, Logan?” Smoke asked.
