Bombshell (Hollywood A-List #1)(21)

Cara’s head snapped around to them. Now was my chance to prove I was better than she thought. Golden opportunity. So perfect I didn’t have a minute to ask myself why I cared.

“Nah,” I said. “We have to go.”

“Next time,” Jennifer said, elbowing Jenn.

Cara went to Nicole before they finished, and I followed at her heels.

“Hey, sweetheart, how’s it going?” I said when I got to Nicole. She was stacking her cards in a neat pile.

“Blue said I could have these.”

“Where is she?” Cara asked, scanning around the party. The breeze flicked her hair around her face. She looked like a warrior.

She’s not yours, Mr. Weird Impulse.

“She went to see the guy with the rabbit and the big hat.” She held her hand out to Cara. “You have Pony Pie?”

Cara crouched down and gave Nicole the doll. “Are you all right?”

She waited for an answer that didn’t come. Out of the corner of my eye, Jenn and Jennifer approached again.

“Let’s go,” I said, holding out my hand for my daughter.

“I want to stay for the sleepover.”

“Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.” I sounded exactly like my father, for the love of f*ck.

Nicole’s face got rock hard. Eyes squinched. Lips tight. Chin puckered. She wrapped her arms across her chest and locked them.

“I said,” Nicole stated as if I didn’t hear her the first f*cking time, “I want to stay for the sleepover.” She even enunciated more slowly.

“Sweetheart,” Cara started but never finished. I didn’t have time for nicey-nice. Explaining shit to a five-year-old wasn’t on my to-do list. I picked my daughter up, slung her over my shoulder screaming, and carried her the f*ck out.

Car and driver were close.

“Her overnight bag,” Cara said.

“Leave it. She has her pony.”

The driver closed the door and we were off. Nicole had tears on her cheeks. They were as big as golf balls and her lips were extra red and swollen as she wept. She wouldn’t even let Cara touch her.

I felt like a first-class *.

“Don’t do this on my account,” Cara said.

“Your account is my account.”

You’re mine.

Everything was confused and backward. I felt like someone else. Like the guy who wears a gray suit and a red tie with his shiny black shoes. A guy who drives a Buick to work every day and trades it in every two years for a new one. Eats dinner at the same time every night, f*cks his wife twice a week, and drinks his rage with the football game on. It did not feel good to be that guy, but he was the only guy I could be in the back of that limo.

“Here’s how it’s going to be,” I said to Cara as much as myself. “From now on, I’ll take her where I want. She’s mine, and I’m not hanging around these people. She’s going to have to live my life with me, not part of this crowd of idiots. Second, I’m not hiding Blakely. She’s coming where she needs to be. Third. If he touches you again, I’m going to break his face. Let’s see how Redfield stacks up against Encino in a fair fight.”

Cara patted her leg absently while she spoke. “I’m sure you could take him in a fight.” Her smile challenged me to make an ass of myself by getting into a fight at a kid’s birthday party. I was just about ready to see how that worked out.

But no.

I was a father. Fathers didn’t do shit like that.

Right? I wished someone would tell me.

Nicole was still mad, but had worked her way backward to a few sniffles and tear-dampened sleeves. She crawled onto Cara’s lap so she could get her sulking puss right in front of me. She crossed her arms tightly and scowled.

What did my father think when I looked at him like that? What did any father think? Was I supposed to discipline her or wait it out? Tell her what’s what? Who’s in charge? How it makes other people feel? Talk sense?

I didn’t know how I was supposed to do this, and Nicole didn’t make it easy to figure it out. She just curled up on Cara, who was pretty damned firm with her. All the times I’d seen them together, Cara was setting out rules, or correcting her or listening. I hadn’t done any of that.

In all the time I’d spent with . . .

Wait.

Not much time at all.

Dad didn’t take us anywhere, and he fell asleep in the green chair most nights. But he’d had us the first five years. Right? He’d had a chance to develop feelings where I hadn’t.

Maybe that would explain the thing I was most embarrassed about. I hadn’t had some lightning bolt of emotion when I met my daughter. Just a little voice that told me she was cute and another that said it would be fine. Another voice said she was my responsibility and another answered that meant I had to get the best staff on it.

But no little voice with a feeling.

My mother’s voice scolded me.

You never tell a soul you just had that thought, Bradley. Why, look at that little nugget! They’ll say you’re a sociopath.

I answered the voice in my head, sulking like a twelve-year-old.

I don’t care what people think.

That quieted my mother for half a second while Cara stroked Nicole’s hair, dividing it into strands for a new braid. Then she came back like a vaudevillian poking her head from stage right.