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“Secretary, go get me a coffee,” he had the nerve to say.

Ro didn’t even look up.

I swiveled in my chair and looked at him. I opened my mouth to say something, I don’t even know what, but it would have been deeply unpleasant.

Ro beat me to it, her tone sublimely unconcerned. “Get your own coffee, sunshine.”

My dad stood there and fumed for a beat. “You going to let her talk to me like that?” he asked me.

I smiled pleasantly. “Encourage it, even.”

“At least give us some privacy so the men can speak here, doll.”

At that she did look up at him, raising a brow. “This is my office. Have your privacy somewhere else, doll.”

I was trying not to smile as I told my dad, “Go wait in my office. I’ll be there in a minute.”

I turned back to her. We studied each other, her gaze curious, mine fond.

“Why do you put up with him?” she asked.

Question of my life, that. “I don’t even know. I guess because he’s my only family, and I don’t know how to cut people off, particularly when they’re that persistent. If he visited more than once a year, I suppose I’d be more motivated, but probably not even then. He’s an ass, but I’m all he’s got.”

“Softie,” she told me affectionately.

She’d walked right into it. “I have definitive proof to the contrary,” I drawled, “if you’d care to see it.”

Her eyes smiled more than her mouth did, crinkling at me while she pursed her lips to restrain an outright grin.

I tore myself away from those eyes to go see what my unwelcome, dissolute father wanted.

The second I walked in the door he started in on me, launching a pitch for his latest scheme. I sat down and let him go on for quite a while. He liked to talk.

When a half hour went by and he showed no signs of letting up, I held up a hand. “Let’s cut to the chase,” I said with a sigh. “Are you asking me for money again?”

That set him off into a tirade about my lack of business sense and how I had no idea how to sniff out a good investment.

“I’m not the one asking for money here,” I slid the words in when he had to pause for air. “How much is it this time?”

“You don’t have to say it like that. Like you’re doing me some huge favor.”

“To be clear, I am. If these so called investments ever pay off for you, I’ve certainly never seen my fair share of it.”

“I thought you were doing well. What do you need the money for?”

“That’s not remotely related to what I said. You’re calling this an investment. I’m taking exception to your wording. If you need money from me, just tell me how much.”

“Just fifty k. If you’re doing so well, you won’t even notice.”

I wouldn’t notice, not in my bank account anyway. What I did notice was that he couldn’t stop being an asshole even in the time it took him to ask for money. I sighed. I was a softie. “Fine, but this is your birthday and Christmas gift for the year. You aren’t getting so much as a card after this.”

He was, at least, in a better mood after that. And he did leave me alone, pausing briefly at the door to say, “You-you’re a good boy. Thanks, son.”

Ro came in almost on the tail of him walking out. She just stared at me, and I could tell she’d heard at least some of our dysfunctional interaction.

Finally she spoke, “You big softie.” Each word held its own little universe of delicious affection. I could have soaked in it for hours. Days. Years.

And also, she fucking walked into it again. “Something is big on me but, full disclosure, it’s not soft.”