Page 122 of Rush

When my dad opened the door to us, Ares holding my hand tight, like he was afraid of losing me again, my dad didn’t say anything about it. Just gave me a knowing smile that told me he had been expecting it all along.

Then, he invited us both inside.

We ordered pizza and celebrated my new job at the gallery with sparkling orange juice.

I’m off Diet Coke nowadays.

After dinner, my dad got the playing cards out. That’s what we’re doing now, sitting in the dining room, playing poker, and I’m kicking both their asses.

I’m with my two favorite men. I have a new job and a gallery showing. Life couldn’t be better than it is right now.

“Do either of you want some ice cream?” my dad asks, rising from his chair after I won the last game.

“I’m down for ice cream,” Ares says.

“You just ate a whole pizza,” I say.

“It was a pizza and a half,” he informs me with a grin. “And your point is?”

Laughing, I shake my head at him. “Pig.” Then, I ask my dad, “What do you have?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll go have a look,” he says, going to the kitchen, and I get up to follow him.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having, babe,” Ares tells me.

“Makes sense. Pigs will eat anything,” I tease.

He grabs me around the waist, yanking me to him. “I’ll eat you if you keep up with the cheek, and I highly doubt you want me going down on you on your dad’s dining room table.”

A shiver runs through me. I cup my hand around his chin, the stubble pricking my palm. “No. But you can do it to me on your dining table when you take me back to your place after here.”

His eyes go molten. “You can bet on it.”

I plant a chaste kiss on his lips and then pull away. He smacks my ass as I go.

I walk into the kitchen, and my dad is looking in the freezer, his right hand on the open door. I notice his hand is cut up on the knuckles.

“Hey, what happened here?” I say, walking over and taking hold of his hand.

How did I not spot this before?

Because he was holding his cards with his left hand.

And my dad is right-handed.

“Oh.” He pulls his hand back, eyes moving away from me. “Nothing. Just scuffed it. Can’t even remember how.”

Huh?

I stare at him, wondering how the heck he forgot how he had done it. If I had grazes like that on my hand, I’d be crying over it for days. And it doesn’t exactly look like an old wound.

“Did you clean it up?” I ask him, knowing what he’s like.

“Of course I did.”

“Good. Well…be careful in the future.”

Taking over from my dad, I rifle through, getting to the ice cream. He has vanilla and mint chocolate chip.