Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
But today isn’t about sex. Today is about being there for him in ways that matter.
* * *
Ben
My father reeks of alcohol and disgusting jail cell odors I would prefer not to identify when I finally bail him out and load him into the back seat of my car. Dad is sullen and morose, introductions between he and Summer not going all that well. My father grates out a hello, while Summer’s cheery disposition has no effect on my dad’s mood.
What an embarrassing clusterfuck. Of all the times for my father to get arrested for drunk driving, it has to be while I am on an assignment I can’t separate myself from.
I recall Summer’s words from earlier this morning. We might not have a label on what’s happening between us, but it’s more than just you’re my bodyguard. I swallow hard. At least one of us is being honest. She isn’t here because I am her security detail. She is here because we have a relationship, undefined though it might be.
After today, who knows what our status will be? If Summer is smart, after a day with Nate Hollander, she’ll run the other way, far and fast. The thought makes me ill. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I want as much time with Summer as I can get before life pulls us in separate directions.
I turn into my father’s driveway and shut off the engine, the three of us trudging into the house. The ranch hasn’t changed, nor has my father done much in the way of upkeep. The house is a dump and heaps more embarrassment on my shoulders in front of Summer for the way my dad lives.
But, I remind myself, if Nate doesn’t want help, I can’t force him to get it. I’ll be laying down the law later, and my father will have to make some hard choices. Because I won’t be bailing him out ever again.
“I need a shower,” my father mutters, heading for the master bedroom in the back of the house.
I let him go. I need my father cleaned up for what I have to say next.
“Is there food in the refrigerator?” Summer asks, standing in the family room. “I can make something to eat for when he’s finished.”
“I don’t know. And you don’t have to wait on him.” I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. This whole situation has me on edge.
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” Summer heads for the kitchen. “He’ll feel better after he gets something in his stomach.” She opens the refrigerator, and I groan at the sight that greets us.
Old takeout leftovers sit inside, and beer lines the door shelves.
“What if I go pick up some fresh food at the grocery store?” she offers. “Oh, wait! There are eggs in here. And bread,” she says, reaching into the back of the fridge. She glances at both, studying dates. “And they’re not expired!” She sounds like she’s hit the lottery.
At least my father has enough food in the house for a meal and a supermarket run isn’t also on today’s agenda. Because even though we are far from the city, I’m not leaving Summer alone.
“I’m really grateful you’re offering, but you don’t need to cook for him,” I try again.
“He needs protein,” she insists, and begins to search the kitchen for plates, silverware, and a frying pan, lining the counter with the items she needs, her ponytail bouncing behind her.
Summer gets to work, and I head to deal with my father, pausing in the entry to the kitchen and turning around. She hums while she busies herself, first cleaning up the dishes in the sink and loading the dishwasher before getting to work.
“Summer…”
She glances over her shoulder, those big eyes meeting mine.
I mean to say thank you. To somehow find a way to express my gratitude, but the words won’t come. Instead, I stalk back into the room and pull her into my arms, my embrace hopefully communicating what I’m not able to say.
Just the fact that she is here, that she insisted on joining me when she could have waited at home, says something about the depth of the relationship we have and choose not to discuss.
“You’re a special woman, Summer. I really didn’t want to do this alone,” I finally admit, kissing the top of her head.
“I want to be here for you.”
I warn myself to ignore not just the fragrant scent that envelopes me but the twisting of my heart at her words. Words I wish she meant for a lot longer than this one crisis.
“Ben!”
My father’s call interrupts my wayward thoughts.
“Coming, Dad!”
She steps back and gives him a reassuring smile. “I’ll get his breakfast going. Want anything?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.” Not for food, anyway.