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“Find a new artist, Trey. I’m good.”
Once his tucked tail disappears, I spin on the remaining two jerkoffs standing over me like pillars erected to protect the little artist that is me and place my hands on my hips.
“Story time, Princess.”
Again, Fin’s growl cuts through the space before I have a chance to answer, reverberating from his chest so hard I swear I see his ribs vibrate through his torn shirt.
Not that it looks like there was much shirt there to begin with, considering the proud pierced nipples and even prouder ink begging for my attention.
“Jax,” I start with a sigh and a shake of my head. “Meet Fin.”
“Great,” Fin spits, his gaze flipping to the man that named me after his favorite tree, with an intensity I don’t quite understand shining in his brilliantly blue eyes and flexing fists.
“Fin.” I let my eyes float over the man that makes me look a fucking lot and push out another sigh with the knowledge that shit is about to get weird considering the last person to meet the man at my elbow is the damn reason he’s here today. “Meet my dad.”
Chapter Seventeen
Fin
NowIknowI’mstill drunk.
I gotta be.
Because the tree of a man in front of me, with his roughened sausage fingers pinching Cedar’s elbow and barely enough grey in his head to be thiswoman’s father—considering I feel like I’ve sprouted a head full just in the last few days of getting a little more personal—is nothing like I’d envisioned for a parent to Cedar.
Is he the reason she shakes?
“I’m sorry.” I scoff and shake my head, my hands refusing to stop curling into fists. “Yourwhat?”
“My daddy.” The way she leans into him innocently makes my skin prickle. The way her hand goes to his chest and she puts her head against his pec …
Makes my fucking blood boil.
And when his hand goes to her shoulder instead of her waist, it’s almost—almost—enough to make me believe her.
Except he could still be the reason she jumps.
“Is he—” I bite off my own words with a curse, afraid that the thoughts rolling around in my head won’t be too far removed from the truth she’d never admit in front of him and rub my aching hands over my face. A face that bears cuts and what’s surely purpling skin.
“Spit it out, kid.”
“Don’t—” Growling, I twist my neck one way and then the other. “I’m not a fucking kid.”
“Uh-huh.”Jaxtips his bearded chin at me, his eyes a striking resemblance to the ones in Cedar’s head that stare at me with a little too much enthusiasm.
“What the fuck is he doing here, Cedar?” Sighing, she rolls her eyes and steps back from the man that makes me question things I shouldn’t be questioning, but I am.
“He’s overbearing.” Shaking her head, Cedar cracks the door flap for a peek and lets it fall closed.
“I don’t think you mean that nice.” My gaze swings from Cedar and the nerves she settles into my gut, because deep down, I know eventually she’s going to run and meet the humor laced in ocean blues that match hers.
“Not one single bit,” she grunts, and walks between our bodies to plop her ass in the tattoo chair.
It’s easy. Calm, almost.
And when she settles back into the cushion and allows her feet to swing where they don’t touch the ground, I feel that tension in my chest begin to ease.
Her gaze swings between me and the man she claims is her father with such nonchalance that my lungs allow a full, chest-expanding breath.
