Page 90 of Beat of Love
The kids backed away.
And Rafferty moved into the gap, leaning over her, crowding her personal space, his potent scent adding to her alreadyheightened senses. His hand covered hers, his touch electrifying, and she caught her breath. He gave her a side-eye, deftly releasing the catch. But he held onto her hand, his thumb caressing her palm, sending tiny shock waves of desire coursing through her. He released her hand, backed out of the Jeep, and scooped her into his arms.
“I can walk,” she protested. It was a rather weak objection, because being held so close to him was utterly glorious.
“Just till the top of the steps.”
And when he set her down mere seconds later, she sorely missed feeling his arms around her.
24
The Dick strikes again
Several hours later, Preston popped into her bedroom. “The gate just called. Dad is here.”
And just like that, her headache returned. With a groan, Brandy-Lyn forced herself upright and pushed her hair from her face, wincing when her hand glided over her wound.
“Not sure why he’s here,” Preston grumbled. “It’s not like we need him.”
“He’s your dad, Pres. And hedoeslove you.”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “He’s such a hypercritical two-faced jerk.”
“Preston.”
He lifted his chin, mouth tight, his eyes narrowed to slits. His scornful look was so alike to the ones Richard had aimed her way over the years, but she didn’t think remarking on their similarities would go down too well.
“Maybe you can tone down your animosity today? He drove six hours to get here, so let’s hear him out before you lob accusations. Or throw attitude.” She lifted her brows. The move hurt. Rubbing her forehead, she squinted at her son. “Please?”
Preston’s unyielding glare negated the “Fine,” he gritted out before storming from the room.
Unfortunately, her son had hit the nail on the head when describing his father.
“You let adrug addictstayovernightwithmychildren?” Richard exploded, storming closer.
She stood her ground, her own fury bubbling to the surface. But she tamped it down, not in any frame of mind to have a full-blown argument with the man. “Arecoveringaddict. Rafferty is a friend, Richard. One who stepped up when we needed help.Itrust him withourchildren. And I expectyouto trust my judgment,” she implored.
Whathadshe seen in this man to marry him? Oh, right. She had been pregnant and let him talk her intodoing the right thing.
“You, of all people,” he spat, pushing right into her personal space, “should know not to trust an addict.”
The barb found its mark, piercing the barrier to that dark place she seldom accessed. And it galled her that Richard knew how to touch a raw nerve. “He’s different.”
“Are you serious?” He gave a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “Wasn’t it you who repeatedly told me, ‘Once an addict, always an addict’?”
She braced herself, refusing to flinch beneath the weight of his accusations.
“He’s right, Red.” Rafferty strode into the room, his expression unreadable. “I will always be an addict.”
Amelia, hot on his wheels, wasn’t quite as agreeable. “Do you have to be such an ass?” she shot at her father.
Richard’s gaze swung between the two, before settling on Rafferty. “What are you doing with my daughter?”
“Cool your jets, Springer. Merely got her behind the wheel of the car before she lost her nerve.”
“He taught me defense driving. Out on the old racetrack.” Amelia stepped closer to Rafferty, taking hold of his arm with both her hands. “It was awesome,” she added with a lift of her chin.
Snapping his gaze back to her, Richard thundered, “And you allowed this?”
