Page 55 of Smooth Sailing

Uh-oh.

I turned the phone to Hugger.

And my lungs seized when he ordered, “Tell him yes.”

“But—”

“Tell him, Diana.”

“We might be fixing things,” I pointed out. “I can’t start fixing things with my dad by lying to him. What if I decide to agree to dinner and he wants you to come?”

“Then I’ll come.”

Was he nuts?

“You can’t come!” I exclaimed.

“Why, ’cause you don’t wanna bring a biker to your dad’s for dinner?”

“Don’t be insulting,” I snapped. “Have I once given you even the slightest indication I give a shit about you being a biker?”

A glimmer of remorse hit his eyes and he mumbled, “That was out of line.”

“Uh…yeah,” I bit out.

“Just tell him you got a man at your back. You don’t gotta tell him why that man is at your back.”

I was as certain about Dad not being all that thrilled Suzette and I had a posse of protection as I was that the sun rose in the east. And sadly, for Dad, that would partly be about them being bikers.

Mostly, though, it was that we needed protection at all.

“Dang and crap,” I muttered and bent to my phone again.

Yes. He’s kind of protective.

I turned the phone to Hugger.

“Good,” he approved.

I sent the text.

Dad responded quickly.

He didn’t hide that. This brings me relief. You and that young woman alone was concerning me. A protective boyfriend alleviates that.

Oh shit.

“What?” Hugger asked.

I showed him the text.

His lips in his beard tipped up.

I slapped his arm. “Stop smiling, you big lug. This is going to come back to bite me in my ass, I know it.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Then you have not read a single romance novel where the fake boyfriend gig bit the heroine in her ass,” I returned.

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