Page 26 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
“I’d have to check my schedule,” I said, gently moving his hand back to his own knee. “But I’m sure we could work something out.”
“Excellent. There’s a charity gala next month, black tie, very exclusive. Having the right woman on my arm will make all the difference.”
I smiled and nodded, playing the part he was paying for. But as the evening wore on, as he showed me his art collection, his imported cigars, his view of the city, my mind wandered to Christian’s hands. Not in a sexual way, but in the way he’d touched my fingers when we’d sat together watching that ridiculous movie. Gentle, without an agenda, like he simply enjoyed the connection.
Nathan walked me to the door at midnight, pressing a generous tip into my hand along with a kiss on the cheek that lingered.
“Next month?” he asked.
“I’ll be in touch.”
The air was sharp against my skin as I waited for my car. I pulled my coat tighter, watching the city lights blur through the windows of passing vehicles. My phone buzzed with a text from my driver, and I walked to the curb where my BMW was waiting.
“Good evening, Ms. Blackford,” Clark said as he held the door open.
“Good evening, Clark. I’m headed home, thank you.”
“Yes ma’am.”
The drive back to my condo gave me time to think, which was the last thing I wanted to do. I stared out the window at the empty streets, trying not to compare Nathan to Christian.
My phone rang just as we pulled into the garage of my building. I glanced at the screen, expecting to see Journey, Frankie, or one of my girls. Instead, it was my father.
“Hey, Daddy.”
“Hey, baby girl. I hope I’m not calling too late.”
“It’s never too late for you. How are you feeling?”
There was a pause, and I could hear the weariness in his voice when he answered. “I’m managing. I had another appointment with the VA today.”
I braced myself. “And?”
“They’re still fighting the insurance on my new wheelchair. Saying this one is adequate, even with the wheels locking up.”
“Daddy, that’s ridiculous. You could get hurt if that chair malfunctions.”
“I know, baby. But you know how it is with these bureaucrats. They see dollar signs before they see veterans.”
I closed my eyes, frustrated. My father had served three tours in Afghanistan and came home with a Purple Heart and a shattered spine. He deserved better than to fight for basic equipment.
“I’ll make some calls tomorrow,” I said. “There has to be someone who can expedite this.”
“You don’t need to.”
“Yes, I do. You shouldn’t have to fight for what you’ve already earned.”
“You’re a good daughter, Naomi. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
“You raised me right. That’s what you did.”
“I love you, honey.”
“I love you, too, Daddy.”
“Will we get to see you this weekend? You know your mother misses you as soon as you’re gone.”
I smiled thinking of my mother. “I miss her, too, and I’ll let you know.”
