Page 101 of One Night Only
“Oh my God.” I drop my fork against my plate, groaning as I bury my head in my hands.
Beneath the table, I feel Dallas’s big hand touch my thigh with a reassuring squeeze as he chuckles. “No, we’re not going to Vegas,” he says with a wink. “Not this time, at least…”
I snap my head up, meeting his eyes with a warning glower,and he simply sniffs a laugh as he takes a sip from his beer bottle.
“Dallas, why don’t you and me take a little walk out to the garage.”
I grimace, casting my father a sidelong glance as he pushes back from the table, standing. He grabs his beer, waiting for Dallas.
Dallas looks from his unfinished dinner to me, to my mom, to Tess and Bron. When his gaze meets mine again, I give him a little headshake, assuring him it’s nothing and that my dad is just being embarrassing, but as he pushes back on his chair and stands, he looks genuinely nervous, and I feel so bad for him.
“Tell my mom I love her,” Dallas whispers as leans down, pressing a kiss to my cheek.
I flash him a smile, watching as he grabs his beer and follows my dad out of the dining room, their footsteps fading. When the sound of the side door opens and closes, my shoulders relax and I look back down at my plate, but then I feel the undeniable weight of all eyes on me, and I glance up to find Mom, Tess, and Bron, looking as if they’re literally about to explode.
“What?” I sigh.
“Oh, he is adorable, Emmy!” Mom cries, placing her hands on her reddening cheeks.
“He’ssohot!” Tess gasps, earning a sideways look from Bron.
Tess slaps her wife’s arm. “Oh, come on. As if you haven’t noticed.”
Bron rolls her eyes. “I mean… for a guy—” She shrugs, offering me a knowing smile. “He’s… kind ofokay. I guess.”
I bite back a grin.
“You’re so in love.” Tess squeals.
“What’s the sex like?”
The room falls silent as Tess, Bron, and I all turn to gawk at my mother, but she simply blinks like she didn’t just ask me, her daughter, what sex is like with her… sort of boyfriend.
I could tell my mom that the sex is out of this world. I couldtell her it’s the best I’ve ever had, better than I ever thought sex could be. I could tell her that Dallas not only gives me multiple orgasms every time we’re together, but he also makes me squirt. But I don’t tell her any of that because… she’s my sixty-eight-year-oldmother. But, as I look at Mom, at Tess and Bron, I can’t hold back my smile as I pick up my glass and take a sip of my second Aperol Spritz.
“I mean, he’s seen me naked,” I say with a shrug, like it’s no big deal.
But the thing is, it is a big deal. It’s ahugedeal. And after processing what I’ve just told them, moments later the room erupts in squeals and screams. Tess and Bron jump up from their chairs and run around to me, wrapping their arms around me as Mom cries real tears, hugging us all. And I’m not normally one for theatrics. But like I said. This is a big deal. And these women have been right by my side through all the shit. They know exactly what this means.
CHAPTER 40
DALLAS
I’m a pretty big guy. I’m a professional hockey player, for God’s sake. Hell, I stand in front of flying pucks most nights. There’s not a lot that scares me. But Emily’s dad, Frank… he scares me. Terrifies me, if I’m being honest.
Frank is one of those old school guys. The silent type. He doesn’t say much, but at the same time, his silence speaks volumes. Take now, for example, as we stand in the garage behind the house, a dim light dangling overhead, Frank doesn’t say a word as he sits on a stool by the workbench at the back, eyeing me over the covered car that divides us, and honestly, it’s taking all I have not to run back inside the house and hide behind his daughter.
My gaze darts about the space, cautiously scanning the various items that could be used as potential weapons. It’s a garage. It’s full of makeshift instruments of murder.
“You like cars?”
I look at him to check he’s talking to me, and when I confirm that he is, I nod. “Yeah, I love cars.”
“I meanrealcars,” Frank says. “Not that Hot Wheels looking thing parked out the front of my house,” he adds with a scoff.
I bite back my smirk. “Uh, yeah. I’ve got an ’88 F150 that I’ve been doing up every time I go back home. All original.”
Frank looks momentarily impressed, but it’s gone quickly. He places his beer bottle on the workbench behind him and moves to pull the cover off the car between us. Once the whirlwind of dust settles, I get a good look at the all original ‘69 Dodge Charger.
