Page 36 of Filthy Rich

But he shakes his head, his frown deepening. “Tell me. Otherwise, we’ll waste the whole morning standing here glaring at each other.”

I try to laugh it off, but my laughter is a little rusty and needs oiling.

And he seems dead serious.

“It’s nothing,” I finally say again. “I mean, I was a little sad that the group left without me. I have fun with my little buddies. They’re a bunch of characters.”

“And…?”

I decide to just admit it. “It’s times like this, when everyone has someone with them, that I really miss my dad. That’s all. Seeing happy families makes me think about how I don’t have one now. I mean, I have friends and all, but…”

I trail off, shrugging.

He seems very quiet all of a sudden. Very thoughtful. “I see,” he says quietly. “He died last year, you said? Your father?”

I hesitate, suddenly sick of myself. Lucien lost his beloved wife Ravenna, and he’s not moping around. Why am I? “I thought we weren’t being sad today.”

“We’re not.” His steady gaze seems kind now. Infinitely patient. “We’re getting these things out of the way.”

I glance around. At the passersby. At the railing. At my shoes. It takes that long for me to get my throat unstuck. “He died about a month before Thanksgiving. Cancer.”

Long silence.

“Thanks for telling me,” he finally says, his expression shadowed. “What was his name?”

That makes me smile. “Ralph. Proud owner of Big Ralph’s Garage in Bushwick. He was very tall.”

“Big Ralph. I like it. And what would big Ralph say about your hanging out with me?”

I burst into a startled laugh. “Oh my God. Where do I begin?”

“Probably with my age.”

“You’re right. He’d wonder what an older man is doing with me.”

“I’ve been wondering that myself,” he says. “And…?”

“The main thing is that you have way too much money. Dad always said, ‘Rich folks are batshit crazy, Tam. You can’t trust them.’ He always complained that his rich customers were much more likely to try to cheat him than the working guys in the neighborhood.”

Lucien grins. Since his grins are still few and far between, and I’m a relative stranger to them, the sight catches me off guard. He’s so handsome. So handsome. I don’t know how I think I stand a chance with him when I lose several thousand brain cells every time he flashes those pearly whites. “Big Ralph sounds like a genius.”

“He was the smartest man I knew,” I say, laughing. “He barely finished high school, but he had a PhD in life wisdom.”

“Well, he’s got you smiling again, so that’s something. Come on. Let’s go before you come up with some more sad thoughts and we both wind up jumping overboard and drowning ourselves.”

Laughing again, I try to elbow him in the ribs as we set off, but he’s too quick for me. He catches my hand and raises it to his mouth for a tender kiss that surprises the hell out of me.

“Stop that,” I say, making a valiant attempt to pull free. Even though my belly has already turned to a sanctuary for flittering butterflies. “I’m still mad at you for acting territorial with Brett. And for ignoring me at breakfast.”

“I didn’t ignore you. I skirted you.”

“Wow,” I say, rolling my eyes. “And that makes all the difference?”

“It should.”

“How’s that? Is it supposed to make my feelings unhurt?”

“No,” he says, catching me off guard by stopping dead and swinging around to stare me in the eye. “The fact that I haven’t stopped thinking about you for half a second since I laid eyes on you should make your feelings unhurt.”

---