I can already hear my dad and Todd chatting outside. Dad is leaving tonight for a work conference in Denver, and Todd is house sitting. Really, I know my dad wants him here to watch over me. Forgetting, once again, that I am a grown woman.
I know the moment I walk outside the two of them will start to grill me on where the hell I’m off to – thank goodness I told Shotgun that I would meet him at the bar. I know that if a guy like that turned up at my dad’s house, he would flip his shit.
But mainly I know he hates the idea of me getting involved with anyone that he doesn’t approve of. He’s had Todd Chadwick picked out for me for months now, ever since he graduated, playing for the same college football team that my dad did. Look, I get school loyalty and everything, but Todd is pretty much everything that I don’t want in a man. The thought of having to spend more than an awkward dinner with him is enough to make my head hurt.
I know he’s the kind of guy that people would pick out for me. He’s a cop, I work at a daycare, we’re clean-cut and we make a lot of sense together. But there is no spark. No chemistry. No butterflies.
But gosh, sometimes a girl wants a little more fun, you know? And something about the way that my tattoo artist touched me today made it impossible to deny how much I wanted him. He spoke to me like he could already tell that I needed him in my life, and who was I to deny it?
I haven’t even shown my father the tattoo that I got today. Only downside of living in an apartment above his garage is that he still seems to think he has a say in what I do with my body. Not that I let him actually get the last word. If I did, I would already be married off to Todd, and that’s the last thing I want right now.
I have picked out this little blue dress that cuts off mid-thigh, a thin white cardigan, and even gone out of my way to ditch my normal sandals and come up with something a little more glamorous in a pair of heels. I think I look nice, but as soon as I step out of the apartment and head downstairs to meet my cab, Todd and my father turn to look at me as though I am some sort of crazy woman.
"Well, that’s hardly a dress," my father remarks.
"You have a hot date tonight, Spring?" Todd asks. Why is it that he always sounds sweaty? How does a person go about doing that? I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t want to know.
"I’m just going out with some of my friends," I reply. "That’s it."
They both stand there and look at me for a moment longer, and I know that they are waiting for me to give them more of an explanation. I don’t owe them anything. Not a damn thing. Before they can ask any more questions, my car mercifully arrives.
“Have a safe trip, Dad,” I say, giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek. “See you on Monday, right?”
“Yes, sweetheart, and Todd will be here if you need anything,” he says.
“Love you,” I say, not addressing his comment. Then I hop in the back before either of them can say anything to stop me.
I give the driver the address, and he shoots me a strange look – he probably doesn’t take many people to that side of town from this one, that’s for sure, but I am not going to let that stop me. I grin as I look out of the window, feeling that prickling in my wrist where my tattoo is still healing. Or maybe I am just remembering the way that Shotgun’s fingers felt against my skin.
The Midnight Oil is the kind of club that you end up at, not the one you start with. But when I get there, and I see him waiting outside to greet me, I know that I am in the right place. He offers me a hand to help me get out of the cab.
"I’d prefer to pick you up next time," he tells me. His warm skin on mine is enough to make it hard to think straight.
"It’s easiest this way," I reply, and he offers me his arm – I take it, sliding my hands around it, feeling the strength of him and wondering just how much more of this I will be able to take before I just have to throw myself at him bodily.
"So, you come here a lot?" I ask, and he nods as he pushes open the door for me.