My Kind of Forever - Tracy Brogan Page 0,57

it on?”

I chuckled deep down in my throat and caught his hand as it moved toward my zipper. He lifted his head and gazed down at me, looking outlandishly sexy with his hair slightly mussed. (I might have done that, too.)

“Maybe we should go upstairs.” I hardly recognized the sultry tone of my own voice, and his responding smile was more intoxicating than all the rum and Cokes in the world. This was actually going to happen, and I was as excited as I was relieved. He lowered his head for another deep kiss just as the front door to my house rattled for a long second and then swung open, banging against the interior wall.

“What the fu—?” I gasped as Leo twisted and I arched to see who the hell had just broken into my house. “Dad?”

Harlan’s face went from calm to shocked to mortified in less than one millisecond, and he turned his back to us while I tugged down my hem. Leo tried to sit up and accidentally knocked me to the floor with a ka-thunk as I bashed my elbow against the coffee table.

“Dad, what are you doing here?” I demanded, heat of an entirely different origin coursing through me.

The chief kept his back turned. “Um, I wanted to check on you. You left the reception so early I thought something must be wrong. Looks like you’ve got everything under control, though.” He peeked over his shoulder to where I still sat on the floor. Leo stood and reached down to help me up. Then he extended a not-all-that-steady hand to my father.

“Good to see you, sir.”

Harlan turned around, with his take-no-nonsense, I’m-a-policeman-and-you’re-not expression back in place. He took Leo’s hand with an obvious death grip in a show of machismo, and I sighed from the depths of my toes to the top of my head. How was this possible? How was this happening? I hadn’t gotten any action in nearly six years, and the night I’m finally going to get laid, my dad shows up? Screw you, universe.

“Aren’t you the bartender?” my father asked with the same tone someone might use when asking, are you the asshole who just rear-ended my car?

Leo nodded. “Yes, sir. Leo Walker.”

Another pump of the handshake. “Chief Callaghan,” my dad said.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Dad. Thanks for stopping by, but as you can see, I’m just fine.”

I wasn’t, of course. I was horrified on so many levels, but that was for me to sort out after he left.

He dropped Leo’s hand. “Yep, I see that. Is this why you left without telling anyone? Your sister was worried.”

“She could have texted me. She didn’t have to send the cops.”

“Um, maybe I should go,” Leo said, reaching for his jacket. Harlan looked at him as if to say, yeah, you should.

“No, Leo, it’s fine. Dad? Was there anything you needed to talk to me about, or were you really just checking in?”

“Just checking in, so . . . I guess I’ll be on my way, then.”

My father had checked in on me less than a dozen times since I’d moved into my own house. Once when I’d left the light on in my attic by accident. Once when I’d left my bike near Potter’s Pointe because I’d gotten a flat tire. Once when I’d accidentally butt dialed him and left no message. But for him to pop in unannounced like this was virtually unheard of. Times when I could have used his help, he was a vapor, but not tonight.

“Good night, Dad. See you later.”

Leo looked at me, guilty as a teenager caught stealing beer from his parents’ bar, as my father hesitated, then stepped back out onto my front porch. “Don’t forget to lock up,” he said before closing the door firmly behind him.

“That was . . . unfortunate.” Leo held tight to his jacket, and I had a sinking sensation that our night of wild abandon had just been abandoned. I could hardly blame him. My dad was a lust-kill. Fuuuuuuuuck.

“I’m really sorry, Leo. He never checks on me.” I started picking up pillows from the floor and tossing them back on the couch.

“It’s cute,” he said, without much conviction. “At least he didn’t arrest me.”

We stood there awkwardly for another minute. “Maybe we could pick this up another time,” I finally said. I still wanted to hit the sheets with Leo, but quite frankly, I wanted it to be memorable for the right reasons, not because my dad had

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