Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend #3)(45)
Author: Monica Murphy

“I don’t have a type.”

Dad laughs. “You do too. Blond, petite, with a tiny waist and huge tits—that’s your type. Always has been. So what gives with this one? She something serious?”

“We’re old friends. That’s it,” I admit grudgingly.

“Ah, well that’s worse. You don’t f**k a friend, son. Didn’t I teach you anything?” He slaps my back with a laugh, acting like we’re nothing but two old buddies hanging out and bagging on women.

That’s the biggest problem I’ve had with him almost my entire life. He treats me like a friend, not like his son. Other than when it’s necessary for him to give me advice and be all fake-fatherly, for the most part he wants to talk tits and ass, get drunk, and brag about his net worth.

When I was younger, I thought it was great. Get the old man drunk, talk about the rack on some hot girl, and the next thing I knew, he was handing me a check for thousands of dollars. Now, though, it sucks. I’m getting too old for this shit. And my father is beyond too old. He’s so transparent with his frat-boy ways—and he was never a frat boy—it’s downright embarrassing.

“I’m not f**king her,” I lie through clenched teeth. I hate how he cheapens my relationship with Jen. More than that, I hate how now Jen cheapens our relationship, too. When did I suddenly become the only believer in this equation?

When have I ever been the believer?

“Then what are you doing, son? Having a little piece like that prancing around your house in shorts that should be illegal, where any man can check out those amazing legs? Not smart.”

“God, would you stop talking about her like that? It’s not like that between us.” What sucks is that I don’t know what it’s really like between us since I’m a confused, screwed-up mess.

“Considering you’re pretty damn sensitive about her, that tells me you’re taking this way too seriously. Like you have feelings for her. And that gets you nothing but trouble.” He plops onto the couch, his gaze shrewd as he studies me. “Danny Cade’s sister, huh? I remember meeting her a few times over the years, what with the way you and Danny were so damn close and always together. Though it’s been a while since I last saw her.”

“She’s been living with me the last few months. I found her working at some strip club on the outskirts of town. She had a falling-out with her parents and they called me. Told me they thought they knew where she was and when they realized I was setting up The District close by, they asked me to find her. I got her out of that shit joint and told her she could work for me,” I explain, inwardly wincing when I see the expression on his face at the mention of Jen working at a strip club. Great. “The Cades knew I would help. I did it for Danny.”

“Isn’t Danny dead?” Dad looks completely confused.

“Well, yeah, but he’d want me to look out for his baby sister. So I am.”

“Did she strip?” he asks. He’s looking at me as if my story is complete bullshit. And I refuse to answer him. “Nice arrangement you got here, son. Sounds like a distraction, though, and I need you on top of your game. I’ve got a proposition for you.”

Dread settles in my gut, making it churn. My earlier hunger for breakfast evaporates in an instant. “What are you talking about?” I ask warily as I settle into the chair across from where he’s sitting.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and watching me intently. “I just acquired a fantastic piece of property in downtown San Francisco. Not too far from the wharf. It’s a corner location, near business offices and where the trendy younger set likes to hang out. The building was recently redone, so the renovation costs wouldn’t be too bad, and the location gets plenty of traffic on a day-to-day basis. Specifically a night-to-night basis, which is exactly what we want.” He rubs his hands together like a greedy salesman—exactly what he is. “It’s time to move on, son. Have someone else manage this location in this shit-hole town. I want you to come to San Francisco with me. We can open the new place together. Turn it into something amazing that we could eventually franchise out across the entire country. What do you say?”

“You want to manage a restaurant together?” Crap, that’s my biggest sticking point. Working directly with my father is a nightmare of epic proportions. I’d moved on years ago so I could get away with not working directly for him as much as possible. That’s always hard, though, when the money starts talking. Because that’s when I usually start listening.

“Well, at the start. You know how I am.” He’d always had wanderlust and could never stick in one spot for too long. “I won’t get in your hair. This’ll be your project, completely. I’ll hang around, help supervise, take care of the stuff you don’t want to deal with, and then when the business is in full swing, I’m outta there. Ready to sell our franchise in all the big West Coast cities at first. Los Angeles, Portland, Seattle. Then we’ll sweep out farther east. Las Vegas, Phoenix . . .”

Sounds too good to be true, so I know one thing: there has to be a catch.

“Just got the loan approved for the location and we’ve moved quickly into escrow,” the old man keeps going. “I’m land rich. Rich as a motherfucker, really, but also cash poor. That means I’ll probably need some cash loans to take care of expenses and stuff.”

There’s the catch. I hadn’t even really risen to the bait. Shit. “You need a loan?” The idea shocks me. My father has never, ever come to me for money. He never needed to. My long dead grandfather had left him a ton of money and though he’s at his very soul a con man, Dad is also a very comfortably wealthy con man. He can afford to take risks. He’s always the one flashing the big cash stacks, exaggerating about his success, though most of those exaggerations were always based in truth.

The last thing I want to do is let my dad borrow money from me. But what can I do?

He’s my father. He might not have been there for me emotionally and he definitely made me work for it, but he always eventually came through when I needed financial help.

I owe him. He’s one of the reasons I’m where I am today.

Jen

I’d forgotten how uncomfortable Colin’s dad makes me feel, so what just happened was a fresh reminder of the man’s ways. He’s too slick, too charming, too . . . everything. I don’t trust him. He doesn’t feel genuine.