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When the movie is over and the end credits start running, Inez turns my way, offering a twinkly-eyed grin. “I haven’t laughed like that in forever.”
“Yeah. I needed that,” I say in agreement.
She smiles at me. I smile at her.
In fact, I can’t stop smiling.
“I fucking missed you so much.” Whoa. That came out of nowhere. I didn’t mean to just blurt it out. And by the surprised look on Inez’s face, I can tell she wasn’t expecting it either.
Instantly, the atmosphere in the room changes, the air growing heavy and serious.
Her crystal blue eyes bounce around my face. “Well, maybe don’t take me for granted so much this time.” A shadow of resentment slides across her features. A moment later, it’s replaced with a blindingly pretty, blindingly fake smile.
But my brain is stuck here, trying to process her snarky comeback. She’s right though. I did take her for granted in the past. Now I see that I was so wrong for that.
Blushing, she quickly glances away, toward the wall unit. “I really can’t believe you own a functioning VCR.” She laughs quietly as she scoots backward, putting space between us. “You really have a thing for ‘antiques’, don’t you?” She reaches down and rubs the sole of her left foot as her eyes make a slow sweep of my living room.
I scoff. “Antiques? I don’t know a thing about antiques.”
“Could have fooled me.” Again, she looks around at our surroundings. I look around too and I totally understand where she’d get that impression. The plastic-covered, floral-patterned loveseat. The cedar cabinet with delicate vintage dishware displayed inside. The framed landscape art. The antique piano. The heavy drapes hanging from the double-hung windows.
I rake my fingers through my hair. “I haven’t had much time to dedicate to decorating over the past six years. Been busy running a bar and raising a kid, if you haven’t noticed,” I say gruffly.
Inez reaches down and rubs her foot again. “Give me a break,” she says, not believing one word I just said. She turns so she’s facing me. “Tell me why you really haven’t updated your house.”
“I don’t have the time,” I repeat, sounding grumpy even to my own ears.
“Don’t lie to me,” she tosses back, smirking. Like she thinks she knows me.
Here’s the thing—she does.
With a huff, I grab her left foot and pull it into my lap. “Because I worry about money. Okay? I said it. Are you happy now?”
When I press my thumbs into her sole, Inez grips the couch cushion and hums with pleasure. “Nolan, you run the most popular bar in this town. I’ve seen the books. You’re not hurting for money.”
“I know that,” I grind out.
She quietly studies my face, making me feel put on the spot. I don’t fucking like this.
“It’s just…I’m focused on saving for my daughter. Her activities and most importantly, her education.” I sigh. “It’s just me. Me and Stella against the world. So her whole future is riding on me making good decisions. I’m dead set on giving her the best of everything, and everything doesn’t come cheap.”
No one would ever guess it by looking at my crappy kitchen or my rust bucket of a car, but I’ve already managed to scrape up fifty-six grand in my savings. Still, I know that’s not enough.
Inez is looking at me with softness in her eyes. “You’re an amazing dad, do you know that? Stella is so lucky to have you.”
The way she says it, I know she’s thinking back to her own childhood. To how she didn’t always have someone there for her. “I just feel like I should be giving her more. More attention. More love. More time. More of me.”
I’ve never admitted this to anyone. It’s hard to talk about the anxiety of knowing that my daughter’s whole future depends on me and me alone.
Inez responds with one simple question. “And who’s making sure you have your needs taken care of?”
I’m sure she means it in an innocent way. Still the question ignites a rush of warmth below the belt. “What needs exactly are you referring to, Machado?” I apply increased pressure to the bottom of her foot.
She has pretty feet. So pretty I’m tempted to kiss them all over. Is every inch of this woman pretty?
Her back arches the slightest bit and her lips fall open with a soft groan. Shit. She likes that. Her eyes grow hooded and a wicked, little smile sprouts up on her plush, pink lips. “Don’t be a perv, Brighton.”
I grin, too, releasing her left foot and turning my attention to the right foot, rubbing gently. I veer the conversation back into non-sexual territory. “Okay, evil woman, you just made me dig up my deepest fucking secret and lay it out on a platter for you. Now give me yours.”
