“Me too.”
“Did you get along well with him?”
He nods. “Ours is a close family. We had our moments, but I don’t know if there’s anyone in the world I’ve ever admired more.”
“That’s nice.” I close my eyes against the tears that want to form. “I didn’t admire my father. I loved him, but I didn’t admire him.”
“No?”
I shake my head and appreciate that he’s not pressing me to continue. He just waits.
Declan might be the most patient man I’ve ever met.
“He fell apart after Mama died. Most men would have recovered, but he never did. So I took care of him.”
“Who took care of you?” Declan asks softly. I simply shake my head and continue.
“Dad was an alcoholic, and owning a bar didn’t help that at all. He wasn’t a mean drunk, Dec. He was a sweet man. But he would get sad. As an adult, it’s easy to look back and see that he was just trying to be numb. He loved her so much.
“We lived in that apartment above the bar, and I’d wait for it to close every night, and for him to come upstairs. I learned to have a bucket near the door so he could be sick, and then I’d help him to bed, then go to bed myself.”
“And get yourself off to school the next morning,” Declan guesses correctly.
“After I graduated, I just couldn’t do it anymore. I felt so much guilt, but I knew the best thing for me was to go. So I did. I went to college, majored in restaurant management, and thought I’d come back here and help Dad, but I just couldn’t do it.” I’m surprised that there are no tears. I’m just telling him the story as if it belongs to someone else.
Sometimes it feels like it did happen to someone else.
“No one would blame you for that, sugar. I’m sure your daddy didn’t.”
“No, he didn’t. But I can’t help but feel guilty that I never came home to see him. Not once.”
“You never saw him after you graduated from high school?” he asks incredulously.
“He visited me a couple of times,” I reply and sigh deeply. “I should have come home. But I didn’t. Maybe that makes me weak.”
“I wouldn’t call you weak.”
“I couldn’t keep the apartment upstairs. It had too many bad memories.”
“So you made it into a kick ass, amazing space that others can enjoy.”
“Thank you,” I reply happily.
“Just speaking the truth again.”
My hand glides down his chest, his stomach, and finally finds his semi-hard cock. I stroke it a few times, fully waking it up, and climb on top of him.
“The truth turns you on?” he asks with a smile as his hands grip my ass and he guides me up and down.
“You turn me on,” I reply and lean back to brace myself on his legs, and then begin to ride him in earnest.
“Jesus, Callie, you make me crazy.”
Chapter Three
~Declan~
“Thanks for the ride home,” she says with a smile as I pull up to the curb just outside of Adam’s condo.
“I couldn’t have you walking home,” I reply and shove the car in park, then lean over and kiss her thoroughly. I had her in several positions through the night, and yet I’m ready to take her again, right here.
She sends my dick into overdrive.
“The walk of shame,” she replies with a smirk.
“Nothin’ we did was shameful, darlin’,” I whisper and kiss her once more before I hop out and walk to the other side of the Jeep and open the door for her.
“I had fun,” she says with a flirty smile. Her hair is disheveled from my fingers, her classy clothes rumpled from spending the night on the floor, and she looks even better than she did when I picked her up last night.
She looks thoroughly fucked.
And damn if it doesn’t look good on her.
“Me too.” It’s the truth. I don’t remember the last time I had such a good time with a woman. Not to mention¸ I let her stay the night.
That’s rare.
She kisses me one more time, then turns and waves before she enters her building and disappears.
I’m gonna count last night as a success. Nothing much better in this world than sharing some laughs, conversation, and amazing sex with a beautiful woman.
I drive into the city to the head offices of Boudreaux Enterprises. I’m meeting my oldest brother Beau, along with our good friend Ben, for an hour or so of Krav Maga training and some good-natured ribbing.
What are brothers for, if you can’t give each other shit? I’m pretty sure it’s in the job description, and we all have an excellent work ethic.
When I reach the executive level, I toss a smile over at the receptionist and walk back to the gym with a spring in my step, humming a Keith Urban song. The others are already here, which is typical, given that I’m usually late.
“You’re chipper,” Ben says.
“And late,” Beau adds as he ties his shoes.
“I’m here,” I say simply and shrug. I snatch a bottle of water out of the mini fridge and take a long gulp. I always arrive dressed to work out. These idiots stop working in the middle of the day, change out of their monkey suits, then have to shower and change back.
Just one more reason that I wouldn’t be a good fit for a desk job. Suits make me twitchy.
“Has anyone heard from Eli or Kate?” I ask as I wipe water off my chin. “They should be in Aruba by now.”