Rock Chick Rescue (Rock Chick #2)(8)
Author: Kristen Ashley

“Dad.”

I could have happily died at that moment.

“What?” Dad asked, al innocent.

“Funny, Jet’s explained she has a little trouble with my kind,” Eddie said.

Dad turned to me, his eyes comical y wide.

“Since when? Every boyfriend you’ve ever had was Mexican.”

Nope, I was wrong. It was this moment when I could have happily died.

“Is that so?” Eddie asked, his eyes moving to me and I could swear I heard both Indy and Al y gulping back laughter.

“Yeah. Thought I’d have me some sweet, dark-headed grandbabies way before now but Jet’s taking her f**kin’

time. You know, I’m not getting any younger,” Dad told me,

“Least you final y got a job in a cool place,” he said, looking around. “The old one might have been cushy but… hel o?

Boring! ”

“Maybe we should go somewhere and talk,” I suggested.

“What’s wrong with right here?” he asked, looking at the espresso counter, “I could do with a coffee.”

“What’l it be?” Tex boomed.

I closed my eyes. When I opened them, Dad was already headed toward the coffee and al I could see was Eddie.

He wasn’t smiling, as such, but the dimple was in his cheek.

Guess I didn’t have to worry about him thinking I was a racist anymore.

Before I could come unstuck from mortification, Eddie’s hand came up and he tucked some hair behind my ear. He scanned my face and hair, then his eyes locked on mine and he said, “I like it.”

My stomach lurched.

Without a word, I turned my back on him, pul ing my hair into another ponytail and fol owed Dad who was ordering from Tex. When I got to him, he hooked an arm around my neck and kissed the top of my head.

“Ain’t she gorgeous?” he asked Tex.

“She’s a nut,” Tex answered.

Dad threw his head back and laughed.

“Ain’t that right?”

Indy and Al y both materialized behind the counter, I did introductions and there was general chitchat while Dad sucked back a latte.

They al drifted away, but not far enough away that they couldn’t hear everything we said. I guess this was my payback for being so cagey. People were going to get curious.

Eddie planted himself at the end of the espresso counter and didn’t even pretend to pretend he wasn’t eavesdropping.

I turned to Dad.

“What’re you real y doing here?” I asked quietly.

“What? Can’t I come see my girl?”

I looked at him.

He smiled.

“Okay, you got me. I need a place to crash for a couple of nights.”

Panic fil ed me. Mom plus Dad plus the same apartment equal ed disaster.

“I’m not living in the same place,” I told him.

“That’s okay,” he said.

“I don’t real y have the room.”

“You didn’t real y have the room before, but you let me stay,” he said, looking at me closer and knowing I was holding back.

“There’s something…” I couldn’t finish. Eddie was right there, I could feel his eyes on me. Dad didn’t know about Mom and I didn’t want to tel him. I didn’t want al the big ears around me to hear either. And Mom would have had a conniption if I invited Dad to stay. One-armed or not, she’d throw everything in the apartment at him and chase him around in her wheelchair.

“Princess Jet, your ole Dad has to crash. Been on the road too long.”

“We’l get you a hotel.”

His eyes flashed, and then shut down.

Damn.

He didn’t have any money.

I didn’t have any money either. Every dol ar was pinched for every penny I could squeeze out of it.

I stared at my Dad. He looked tired, he needed a bath and last, but not least, he was my Dad. This was gonna hurt, in more ways than one.

“We’l go to the bank machine,” I said on a sigh.

I could pick up more shifts at Smithie’s.

Maybe.

If Smithie was in a good mood.

“I’l pay you back,” he told me.

I’d heard that before.

I turned to Indy and saw Eddie, stil leaning on the counter and stil watching me. His eyes were sharp and I knew he heard every word. I felt humiliated, this time for myself and for my Dad.

“Indy, Dad and I are gonna…,” I didn’t even finish.

“You know we make our own hours, girl. Go be with your Dad,” Indy said.

I turned back to Dad, trying to ignore Eddie and everyone. I put my arm through his. “Had lunch?” I asked, pretending to be bright and cheerful and someone who could afford to go out to lunch.

“Nope,” he said on a big grin. “Your ole Dad is starved.”

“My treat.” I walked him out. I didn’t have money to treat him to lunch either, but in for a penny, in for a pound.

* * * * *

I set Dad up in a cheap motel and he acted like I put him in the Bel agio. I paid two nights in advance and I gave him $500, because a man had to have money in his pocket.

This left me $50 in the bank; groceries to buy and my car needed gas.

Dad and I planned to meet up at Fortnum’s the next morning with me bringing the donuts. Luckily, I’d have my tips from Smithie’s in my pocket by tomorrow morning so I could probably afford the donuts.

I went to the grocery store, got necessities, hit the gas station and arrived home later than usual. I needed a nap but probably wouldn’t have time. There was laundry to be done. Mom tried to help but she got tired quickly. She was trying to get back to doing things around the house and cooking for herself, but was finding it frustrating so I’d have to hang with her in the kitchen and help when she needed it.

We’d need to do some exercises too because she had PT

tomorrow and they didn’t like it when you didn’t exercise in between appointments. Then I had to cake on the makeup for Smithie’s and rol back out the door.

The minute I walked into the living room, lugging the groceries, Mom took one look at me and said, “What’s wrong?”

She freaked me out sometimes.

“Nothing.”

I had no intention of tel ing her Dad was in town. Un-unh, no way.

I went into the kitchen and started unloading the groceries. She rol ed into the doorway and blocked me in.

“Something’s wrong,” she said.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Henrietta Louise,” she said.

She always used my real name when she was ticked at me. Either that or “Missy”. I didn’t know where “Missy” came from but that name came out when she was super angry.