Page 138 of Whistle

I growled under my breath just hearing her repeat the shit I knew her mother had told her. Who tells a kid that? A selfish bitch, that’s who. A selfish bitch who marries for money, and when her sleazebag of a husband hits on her daughter, she takes his side.

But even if I did have a low opinion of my baby mama, I refrained from sharing it with my daughter. I might have grown up in the eighties and nineties, but I saved the your mom jokes for someone who wasn’t my DNA. They wouldn’t be jokes anyway. They’d be facts. Facts aren’t nearly as funny as jokes.

“She didn’t give up her youth,” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face. Sighing, I grabbed her hand. “I do not regret becoming a dad.” Looking directly into her gemlike eyes, I let her see my sincerity. “Being your dad is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Really?”

I held up my fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

Her nose wrinkled. “You weren’t in the Scouts.”

“Still have honor,” I muttered.

She giggled, and the sound lightened my heart.

“I love you, and I’m sorry I’ve made you worry lately. You don’t need to worry about me, okay? My happiness is not your responsibility.”

“But—”

I waved a hand in the air. “No buts.”

Her chin jutted out. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“I know that.”

“So stop treating me like one.”

I sighed. “How about you and I go to dinner after the meet? There are a few things I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Like what?” she asked, curious.

“I’ll tell you at dinner.”

“You could tell me now.”

“We have a benefit to get to.”

“You said you didn’t want to go,” she teased.

“I do a lot of things I don’t want to do.” Fuck. I sound like my father.

“Can I have a hint?”

Is there a hint for I’m gay, sleeping with someone your age, and the dean is probably going to fire me?

“Well, I was hoping you’d go furniture shopping with me. Make the house look a little more… homey.”

Excitement sparked in her eyes, and she bounced a little in the seat. “Really?”

“Mm.” I agreed. “I’m tired of drinking burnt coffee, and our cardboard box coffee table is starting to fall apart.”

She let out a little squeal and clapped. Girls did love shopping. “I have so many ideas,” she said, launching into something about area rugs and pillows for the couch.

I let her talk, turning back to the wheel just as a blue Corvette pulled up in front of us. Rush got out and stalked over, knuckles rapping on the window beside Landry’s head. She rolled it down, and his face appeared.

“If you bought a Chevy, you wouldn’t be stranded on the side of the road.”

“I would describe your personality as a vibrant shade of beige,” I told him.

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