Indefinite (Salvation #6)(27)

“Your mom made pasta fagioli,” he says with his hand extended.

“I can smell it.”

He nods. “It’s your favorite.”

“I know that, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

I snort. “That wasn’t a real thanks.”

“I know, but any form of gratitude you send my way, I’m going to take it.”

“Well, that’ll be the last one.”

Quinn’s smile grows. “We’ll see, I’m a charming man and have set my sights on you.”

Oh, please. “I’m a grown woman who has her sights on something else. Now, let me in before my mother rips my head off about the air.”

He takes a step back, grabbing all four of my bags with an ease I hadn’t been able to pull off, and we head into the kitchen. My dad sits with the paper and Mom is fussing with the pot on the stove.

“I didn’t know you were hosting company,” I say as I walk to my dad. I kiss his cheek, and he grunts.

“Quinn isn’t company,” Mom says as she stirs.

Right. He’s the son they never had.

I walk to her, giving her a hello. She touches my cheek with a smile. “You look tired.”

“It’s a wonder I’m not depressed after I visit.”

“Don’t be fresh,” she chides. “I was saying that you’re working too hard.”

“Actually, it’s not work that kept me awake last night. Quinn was over late and let me know all the things he was feeling.”

Dad puts the paper down, and I wait for him to lay into him. My father is conservative, and I know he wouldn’t like the idea of a guy in my apartment late at night. “You were at her place late arguing?”

Quinn straightens his back just a little. “We were, sir. I went over to explain how I felt, which you had suggested—”

“Wait! You suggested?” I eye my father.

“Go on,” he says to Quinn, ignoring me.

“I told her, but as you see, I did a bad job of it. We argued, but nothing serious, and then I gave her some space like she asked.”

Oh, please. There was no space between us last night, and there sure as hell isn’t any now. “Space? You’re at my parents’ house where I came just in case you didn’t actually leave for Virginia! This isn’t space, my friend. This is the opposite.” Dad grunts once and then picks the paper back up. “Daddy! Are you serious? You’re not going to throw him out? Tell him how insane he is for being here when I clearly don’t want him to be?”

“Nope.”

“I tried to get her to see how I feel about her,” Quinn says as if he’s saddened by my unwillingness to see things his way.

Nice to see he left out the part where he had me naked.

“I think you did a good job rising to that occasion.” I make the offhanded sexual joke and wait.

Dad doesn’t move, his voice carries over the paper. “Most men rise to the occasion when they’re forced to.”

It’s by the grace of God that I don’t burst out laughing.

Fine. They want Quinn here, they can have him. I have a perfectly wonderful apartment a state away where Quinn is not.

I give my mother a kiss on the cheek, not wanting to be rude to her and suffer her wrath, and then grab my bags.

“Where are you going?” my mother calls out when she sees what I’m doing.

“I’m going home.”

“Ashton!”

“Ashton Caputo, you put those bags down right now,” Daddy says with his deep timbre that still makes my stomach churn. Damn him and his big voice. “Now, I don’t know what has you all fired up, but you will not be rude to anyone in my home.”

I want to curse, scream, throw something at him so he wakes up and sees that I’m not in the wrong here. However, I do none of that. “Yes, Dad.”

“I know that you and Quinn aren’t together any longer, but he’s here as a friend of mine.”

“Fine,” I say as I cross my arms over my chest. “But when he leaves, I hope you remember I’m your daughter and this is mutiny at its best.”

He rolls his eyes. “There’s the Irish like your mother.”

“What?” Mom’s head snaps to him.

“He said there’s the girl I wish was like her mother,” I cover for him.

Dad taps his finger across his nose, which is our sign. He started it when I was in grade school. Each time I was sad, he’d quickly bump it across and smile. I thought it was so funny that I started doing it back. Then it became something we did whenever we wanted to say something but couldn’t around Mom. Whether it was thanks or I love you or watch it, it’s all in his eyes.

That one was a thanks, kid.

“I bet he didn’t, but very sweet of you to cover for him. Why don’t you go put your bags in your room and then come back when you’re able to manage a sweeter disposition?” Mom says as not just a suggestion but a requirement.

Only my family would invite in the man who broke my heart and then expect me to be nice. I swear, they love to torture me. I think this is payback for all the times I made them sick with worry.

I put my bags down, grab the black book of donors, and flop onto my bed. I came here with a purpose, and I’m not going to let some guy mess that up. I’m on a mission, damn it. It’s time to find a daddy for my baby.