Page 43 of Prudence
“Dad!” Gigi exclaimed. “What are you still doing here?”
“I decided to stick around and see what all the fuss was about,” he responded indulgently, and Gigi grinned.
“Well, what did you think?”
“Amazing. I think I might buy one of those shirts they’re selling out front and become a proper fan,” he teased.
“No!” she giggled while Deirdre looked to me.
“Speaking of merch, can I …?” she trailed off, pressing her palms together, prayerlike.
“You can get one item,” I allowed, and Derek handed his credit card over to Gigi so she could do the same. The two of them raced to the merch stand while Derek and I followed after them.
“You’re very good,” I said, and he glanced my way, his look questioning. “With Gigi, I mean. You’re a great dad.”
Something vulnerable flickered across his expression, like it meant a lot to him to hear me say that. Then his jaw worked as he bobbed his head. “Thank you.” His voice was low, rough, and my heart pounded at the way he was staring at me, though I couldn’t quite decipher what his look meant.
A few minutes later, we were headed to Derek’s car. Deirdre had managed to convince me to let her buy two extra items, and Gigi carried two bags stuffed to the brim with band merchandise. I had a feeling Derek still felt guilty about her almost missing the show earlier, so he’d let her go wild with his credit card. He brought us to a drive-thru burger place, all the while Deirdre and Gigi sat in the back and gushed giddily over every aspect of the show. It was late, and I wasn’t too hungry, so I just ordered a portion of chicken nuggets to nibble on.
“Can Gigi stay over at our house tonight?” Deirdre asked pleadingly once we’d finished eating.
“Sure, if it’s okay with her dad,” I replied, and Derek met his daughter’s gaze in the rearview mirror.
“You have a tennis lesson in the morning,” he reminded her.
“I’ll still make it if you come pick me up.”
“All right, then. But don’t forget to set your alarm. I’ll be there at nine-thirty to collect you.”
“Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.”
When Derek pulled up outside my house, he climbed from the car, going around to help Gigi out and giving her a hug goodnight. Watching him had my insides doing strange loops. Seeing Derek be a dad obviously appealed to some part of my psyche. When he let her go, the girls skipped inside while I hung back to say goodnight to him. He stood leaning against the driver side door, his shirt sleeves still rolled up and exposing his distractingly muscular forearms, gazing down at me like he had all the time in world.
A beat of quiet passed as we just stared at one another before I finally spoke, “Thank you again for coming to the rescue tonight.”
His dark gaze gentled. “It was no problem.”
I nodded. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
I turned to leave when his voice stopped me. “Camille.”
Tingles tip-toed across the back of my neck when I heard my name pass his lips. It was the first time he’d spoken it since I’d come home, and I had to suppress a shiver at the way his deep voice caressed the syllables. “Derek?”
His gaze softened further as he said, “I didn’t entirely hate spending time with you tonight.” The faintest glint of humour sparkled in his handsome brown eyes.
A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “Calm down with the flattery, or my head might explode.”
His deep answering chuckle sent a warm, fluttery sensation through my stomach as he turned and climbed back inside his car. He switched on his indicator, checking his mirrors as he prepared to leave. “Derek,” I said, and he paused to look my way,his window rolled down. Smirking, I went on, “I didn’t entirely hate spending time with you tonight either.”
Shaking his head, I heard him laugh again as he drove away.
I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep that night thanks to the girls keeping me up until the small hours chattering away in Deirdre’s bedroom. Waking up with my alarm, I threw on a bra, a T-shirt and a pair of shorts before going downstairs in search of breakfast.
As soon I entered the kitchen, I heard a dripping sound before I saw the giant puddle of water that had collected on the floor. Worry seized me as my gaze travelled up, up, up to the ceiling where water seemed to be coming through the plaster.
Oh crap, not good.
I leapt into action, grabbing a mop and bucket from the utility cupboard as well as a sponge to try and dry up the area. My efforts were fruitless because the leak was still dripping, and I only ended up with wet hair and soiled clothes.
