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That was my last thought before I drifted into a dreamless sleep.
* * *
A ringing phone woke me up. It took me a moment to realize it was mine. And it was coming from the pocket of my sweatpants lying on Wilson’s bedroom floor.
Damn.
I rolled to the edge of the bed, reached to the floor, fumbled until I pulled my phone free, and glanced at the screen.
Shit.
It was almost noon.
Double shit. It was my father.
I silenced the call but it was too late. Wilson was awake and pulling me back into him.
“I have to take this.”
“Jackson?” he rumbled.
No, worse.
“My father.”
He let me.
Now I had a conundrum. Unlike Wilson, I didn’t particularly like prancing around semi dressed. The blackout shades weren’t fully closed, giving the room enough light I couldn’t stand without him getting an eyeful of my ass. Not that he hadn’t seen it before, but this seemed different. We hadn’t had sex. We’d…cuddled.
Stupid, stupid me.
I nearly dropped my phone when it started ringing again.
With no other option than speaking to my father in front of Wilson I quickly got out of bed and tugged my pants on, but not before I gave him an up-close glimpse of my ass, and rushed out of the room. I was in the living space when I answered.
“Hey, Dad, how’s… Punta Cana?”
Last week he’d traveled to the Dominican Republic to spread his altruist genius.
I’m seriously going to hell.
“Busy. Leptospirosis outbreak. There’s been heavy rainfall and flooding which means dengue is on the rise. Dr. Shultz is with me. She’s been a big help.”
Dr. Tina Shultz had the hots for my dad. I’d met her a few times when she was lecturing in New York. My father, like everything else, was completely oblivious of the attraction.
“Well, that’s good,” I told him, staring at the calm fountain pond.
“Dengue fever is never good, Atlee.”
Sometimes I wondered if he purposefully misunderstood me or if it was the disconnect that hindered our communication.
“I meant Dr. Shultz being with you.”
“Yes, she is very competent and bright.”
And beautiful but I doubted if he even noticed—unless she was ill lying on his table, then he’d be observant and possibly take note. That was the only way my father the Good Doctor paid attention to anything.
I heard the Keurig sputter.
