Page 81 of Smooth Sailing

It took visible effort for her to meet his gaze.

She looked uncomfortable, mortified, like she wanted to be a million miles away from him.

And he couldn’t stand it.

Any of it, but especially the last part.

He bent to her, caught her chin between his thumb and finger, and whispered, “I’m a problem you don’t need.”

“What?” she whispered back.

“I got shit no good woman needs laid on her.”

“What shit?”

“Shit I was born with.” Fuck him, he was giving it to her. “Shit that made me.”

“Harlan—”

“You got enough to deal with, you can’t be taking on my shit.”

“Can you give me a hint what your shit is?”

“I already did.”

“I don’t—” The haze of sleep and mortification cleared, and her brows snapped together. “You mean your mom?”

He had to stop touching her, but he couldn’t do it without running his thumb along the line of her jaw.

So he didn’t.

Then he said, “Fuck no, Di. But think on that.”

“Think on what?”

“Who’s my daddy?”

Her head jerked and she asked, “Do you know?”

“Met him once, once was enough, but I know who he was. All of who he was.”

“Then does it matter?”

Her words felt like a lance went clean through him, so he couldn’t reply.

She threw up both hands. “Who’s my daddy?”

“Di,” he choked out.

“So, okay, he’s making an effort now. But I’m twenty-nine years old, Harlan. I’m grateful for that effort, and I’ve decided to explore it, but that’s a long time to have a dad who expected me to be his brand of perfection from top to toe, to intellect, to personality, and live with falling short and disappointing him time after time. A dad who cheated on my mom, broke her heart, and I had to watch. But even if he cheated on her, he acted like she had some horrific defect and was beneath him, and me, and everybody. A dad who didn’t have a lot growing up, and wasn’t a big fan of that, so he pulled out all the stops to give himself, and yeah, me, more. But that meant I was raised by nannies and babysitters and?—”

She was winding herself up way too tight with this shit.

So he ordered, “Stop it, honey.”

“Do you want to know why I went balls to the wall to get Suzette in my house?”

Unh-unh.

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