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"I told you we'd be safe down here." His fingers sweep away a lock of hair from my forehead before his palm rests flat behind my ear.
Oh yeah. Everything else can go to hell. I just want Foster to keep touching my hair while he's looking at me like I'm a precious gem.
"Milana!" The muffled voice of my father seeps through the door to the wine cellar. I scramble to my feet and dust off my clothes. My sundress is hanging off one shoulder. There's a wine glass and two empty bottles on the floor. This doesn't look good.
Before I head up to face my dad, I grab Foster's hand. "Thank you for last night. You were right. I was being reckless. I enjoyed sitting out the storm with you."
His eyes brighten and he presses his lips together, maybe holding back what he wants to say. Instead, his hand slips under my hair and tightens with gentle pressure around my neck.
Oh yes. I like the Unstoppable Foster Dunham. A lot.
I suck in a deep breath and open the door. "Down here, Dad."
"Milana!" His footsteps travel across the kitchen. "Where?"
"Here!" I step out of the wine cellar and make my way up the stairs.
At the floor level, my dad embraces me roughly and kisses both my cheeks. "Milana, I was so worried when I found out you didn't evacuate with us. You nearly gave me a heart attack."
The house looks undisturbed, but there's debris outside the window.
"It was too late to leave so we took shelter in the wine cellar."
"You were in the wine cellar?" He hugs me to his chest. "The thought of losing a daughter in a hurricane is not something any father should have to live through."
I'm glad my father cares about me, but I was safe with Foster. My dad glances behind me. His eyes widen before anoffended frown appears. "Who is that?"
Foster is rubbing his hair and looks sleepy. He's adorable, but his sleeves are rolled up and his arm tattoos are on full display for my dad. A mix of blue and white waves wrap around his corded arms. I think I see King Triton in there too. I needmore time to inspect those. "His name is Foster. He helped me get into the wine cellar and kept me safe."
My dad looks from him to me. "That was a ridiculous idea."
When my father follows his expressions of love with criticism, it always stings. He cares about me but I'm "ridiculous." His love is conditional. "We're fine, Dad."
"We?"
"Foster and I."
He gives Foster another once over then disregards him. Foster is staying quiet behind me, but I can sense the edge of energy coming off him.
My dad's frown deepens. "The fundraiser was a disaster."
"I know. I'm sorry." I stare at my feet and take the heat from his gaze.
My brother walks into the kitchen and Foster's shoulder's tense. "Holy crap, Milana. We were looking for you all night." He gives me a quick hug around my shoulders.
"Sure you were. You evacuated early."
"You didn't answer your phone." In other words, he didn't look for me. He just called me.
"I didn't have it. The power went out. We just…"
"What the hell is he doing here?" Donnie points at Foster.
"He helped me."
"He's a punk." Donnie reacts in the same disparaging tone my father used. Why are they being so uncivilized? It was an emergency, for goodness sake.
"No. He's a fight champion. Not a punk," I say, defending Foster from their unwarranted onslaught. Donnie saw him kick Cicero's ass and he probably heard about what went down with Rocco. Now he knows Foster kept me safe. He has no basis to call him names like that.
