Diary of a Bad Boy(88)
She shrugs and takes a sip of her water. “I think we all knew that was a lie.”
Roark chuckles next to me, the vibration of his laughter easing the tension in my shoulders. “I like her, lass,” he says softly. “Just wait until you meet Rath and Bram—when he’s not in a panic from peeing his pants.”
“Peeing his pants?” Maddie asks, resting her chin on her propped-up hand. “Do tell why your friend pees his pants.”
“He was choking on a Brussels sprout, got the Heimlich, and then peed. It was a production. He doesn’t just pee his pants. He’s a very nice guy,” I say, hoping Maddie doesn’t think Roark hangs out with guys with wonky prostates.
“That sounds horrifying.” She looks to the side before turning her attention back to us. “Is this Bram taken?”
Oh Maddie.
“Recently engaged,” Roark answers, drawing a gleeful surprise from me.
“He asked?”
Roark nods. “He took your advice, asked when he got home, and of course Julia said yes. They’re in Barbados right now celebrating. They’ll be back on Friday.”
Maddie snaps her finger in disappointment. “Why are all the good ones always taken?”
“The only thing you know about Bram is him eating Brussels sprouts and peeing his pants. You call that good?” Roark asks, a little perplexed.
“If a man can admit to peeing his pants, I want to know him. Shows he’s not too full of himself. I like that.” Maddie gives Roark a once-over. “Ever pee yourself, Roark?”
He shrugs. “Probably. I’ve been drunk enough. I did really like peeing in Bram’s laundry basket back in college.”
Maddie chuckles as I turn in my seat, a little horrified. “You peed in laundry baskets?”
His wicked smile cuts through me. “When you’re that blasted, anything round and white resembles a toilet. Don’t worry, lass, I did his laundry for him the next morning.”
“That’s considerate,” Maddie says, pointing her finger at Roark. “Very considerate. You got a good one.”
Even though this is probably one of the most ridiculous conversations I’ve ever had, I don’t think I could agree with Maddie more. I did find a good one—despite the peeing in laundry baskets thing. Roark is the type of man I know will always protect me, who will always strive to make me happy as I do the same. We’ve each met our match, and I can see my future with this man at my side. I sincerely hope he’s feeling the same exact way.
As Maddie and Roark converse about college, I glance at him and take in the small crinkle near his eyes as he smiles and laughs, the way he so easily meshes with my best friend. It makes it that much easier to know I’m with the right guy. From our initial interaction, I never would have thought this is the man I want to be with, but slowly, with his witty comebacks and sweet and unlikely gestures, he’s won me over . . . completely.
And now, I can’t stop thinking about him. I hate not being at his side or lounging in one of our beds, talking about anything and nothing while we cuddle, skin on skin. Behind the reckless, bad-boy exterior and the asshole comments, he truly is a loveable and addicting man, one I don’t plan on letting go . . . ever.
“So, I met Maddie.” Roark places a giant walnut and fudge brownie on the table and takes the seat opposite me at his dining table. “When are we going to tell your dad?”
I knew that was coming.
It’s not the first time he’s mentioned telling my dad about us, and I think it’s because he respects my dad greatly, and holding something back like this from him is wreaking havoc in Roark’s mind. But I feel nervous. I know my dad likes Roark and respects him, but my dad has always been protective, and given Roark’s history, I’m not sure he’s the type of guy my dad would’ve picked for me.
But Roark is so much more than his past record. He’s protective, he’s sweet, and he cares about me more than I think anyone, including my dad if that’s possible, ever has. He will do anything for me and strives to put a smile on my face every day. Those are attributes I want to focus on when talking to my dad about Roark, and I think if I take that approach, he might very well approve.
I need to find the right time.
It’s all about timing with my dad; I’ve learned that the hard way. I can still remember the time in high school I told him I was going on a date with Luke Jameson. I told him five minutes before Luke showed up. Needless to say, my father, at six foot three, was pretty intimidating to poor Luke, and also needless to say, the date didn’t happen. And I was never asked out after that all through high school . . .
Or the time I told him I was thinking about going to school out of state, that I no longer wanted to live in Texas, but wanted to explore New York where he spent many years playing football. He wasn’t too happy about that either, because he wanted me to be safe in my pocket of comfort in Texas. Yes, I was book smart and not world savvy, but I wanted to change that. It’s almost laughable that it was Maddie who first got me to stay out past nine after all my protests about being mature enough to take on city living. He has always wanted to be the one to protect me, to veto anything he thought would adversely change me.
So with Roark, I need to tread carefully. I know he cares for the man, I just need to make sure he’s in a good position to learn about our new relationship.