Page 14 of Wild Love
It’s only a matter of time before I say something mean to keep her at arm’s length. And she’ll retaliate by saying she hates me before coming back with something equally snarky.
That’s our customary vicious circle.
“Oh, well, he was a sperm donor to my parents,” Cora spouts matter-of-factly. “So, for all I know, he could definitely still be a virgin. Your whisper wasn’t very quiet, you know.”
I shut my eyes and massage my temples. This girl is too smart, too snippy, too take-charge. She’s going to be the death of me, and I’m the one who signed on the dotted line to take her under my wing. I’m in way over my head.
“What’s a sperm donor?” Leave it to Emmy to fixate on that part.
West chuckles and tries to rescue me with, “Emmy! Ollie! Let’s mind our business and go wash up for dinner. I’ll make the order.”
I’m grateful for his intervention as I hear their little feet pattering away.
When I finally open my eyes, Rosie is staring at me. Baby blues wide, glossy pink lips popped open in a perfect O shape.
“What?” I snipe, knowing she has a snarky comment ready to fire at me. She always does.
She smirks, never one to back down at my barking. “The genetics are strong with that one. I like her.”
It’s Cora who groans. “I’m right here. It’s rude to talk about a person like they aren’t present.”
And I sigh.
Because it’s going to be a long-ass night.
“So, this is your room.” I glance down at Cora, who stands woodenly beside me. It’s her first night with me, and I’m floundering rather spectacularly in an attempt to make it less awkward.
“I know. You showed me already.”
I’m pretty sure I’m failing.
I give myself a silent pep talk to pull it together. I’m a grown-ass man. I shouldn’t be this nervous around her. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I should at least be equipped to fake feeling prepared for this.
“Right, well, I was just about to say that there is also a guest room on the main floor if you’d rather not stay on the same floor as me. But it doesn’t have an en suite bathroom, and I wake up early, so it might just be disruptive.”
“Why would I care about staying on the same floor as you?”
I grimace. “Just want to make sure you’re comfortable.” She doesn’t move. Her arms are crossed, but her eyes slice over in my direction. She’s full-on side-eyeing me. “Youknow, my mom may be out of it, but she ran every criminal check she could on you.”
“Fair. I don’t blame her.”
“I wish I hadn’t told you I have no family left. The threat of a long-lost uncle in the mafia might have been good safety insurance.”
I snort. She’s funny. “We can pretend if you want.”
Now she snorts too, and I feel a flicker of success at having almost made her laugh.
Quiet footfalls lead her into the center of the room. I watch her turn in a slow circle, taking in her surroundings. It’s pretty much her color palette—pale gray walls, and a bedframe made of black wrought iron.
“Is the room okay? I went ahead and got you the basics. But we can… decorate or something? If you want? Art? Bedding? Books?”
“I really want black sheets.”
My brows furrow as I take in the simple, dark purple bedding I opted for. I thought dark purple would be dark enough.
Apparently, I thought wrong.
“Okay. I’ll see what I can find.” I run a hand through my hair, internally chiding myself. I don’t know how to talk to a twelve-year-old. Plus, she feels more like twelve going on twenty.
