Games of the Heart (The 'Burg #4)(71)

But, honestly, she missed her Dad too.

They heard the garage door go up.

So Clarisse whispered, “Dad’s home.”

But she knew that Dusty knew and she knew because she’d already seen Dusty’s eyes get warm and her mouth get soft. And Clarisse saw on Dusty’s face what she’d read in Dusty’s diaries.

Dusty Holliday loved her Dad. Bunches.

And Clarisse Haines loved that. Bunches.

“Yeah,” she breathed then she got up and said, “Let’s go say hi.”

Clarisse took one last look at her awesome makeup job then she got up too.

And with Dusty Holliday, she went to say hi to her Dad.

*

“Can we talk?”

Mike looked to his side, down and to his unhappy surprise saw Audrey standing there actually speaking to him.

And he wanted to say no. He really f**king wanted to say no.

Because he’d spent the day working. And while he worked he hoped things were going all right with his daughter and his woman spending the day together. Not that he’d get home to a shut down Clarisse and a Dusty who was wondering what the f**k was up with his girl.

He didn’t get home to that.

He walked in from the garage to see Clarisse bounding down the steps looking like a f**king model.

He was not blind. He knew his daughter was beautiful and that wasn’t entirely prejudice. But her makeup was stunning, fortunately in a way that didn’t make her look too adult. But she did look too good.

And this was unsettling seeing as he was already dealing with a lot of teenage daughter shit that was seriously f**king unsettling. But he couldn’t commit to that feeling since her eyes were alight, her smile was dazzling and she was bouncing down the stairs with a light step he hadn’t seen in a long f**king time. And she was doing all this after a morning where she’d pitched a hissy fit and lapsed straight from that into silent melodrama all in the expanse of half an hour.

Dusty, grinning and following her, helped his mood. This was simply because Dusty was walking down the stairs of his house, comfortable, natural, like she’d done it a million times before and he liked that a f**kuva lot. It helped that it was clear she’d enjoyed her time with his kids and especially his daughter.

His mood lightened immensely when he walked into the huge back room and saw what Dusty wrought.

Massive bunches of silvery white, glittery purple and glossy black balloons flying from long strings positioned everywhere. Purple and black expertly twisted streamers criss-crossed the ceiling. A glossy black, plastic tablecloth covered the dining room table and this was dusted with silver and purple confetti in the shapes of moons and stars. On the table was an elaborately fashioned centerpiece made of shoots of silver, black and purple foiled wire. Purple, silver and black plastic trays and bowls were already filled with snack foods sitting on the dining room table and scattered around the room. Stacks of plates and napkins following the color scheme were situated around the table. And there was an extortionately tall cake, expertly frosted in creamy swirls. It was decorated with a scattering around the sides of tiny silver candy balls, deep purple whirls of icing borders and there were thin, artistic curlicues and tiny dots of black all around. Finishing it off, in Dusty’s unusual, intricate handwriting that included a lot of swirls, “Happy Birthday, Rees” was written on the top in black.

Christ, if he bought that cake he’d have to pay a small fortune. And if it tasted half as good as it looked, it would be f**king sublime.

He found an hour and a half later, it didn’t taste half as good as it looked.

It tasted better.

Dusty didn’t lie. His woman could bake.

At the time, about half a second after he hit the room and hadn’t quite taken it all in, he heard Clarisse nearly shout, “The cake is five layers! Five! Each cut in half so it’s ten! Filled with frosting!”

He looked to his daughter and he hadn’t seen her that excited, heard her voice that chattering, seen that unadulterated happy light in her eyes in so long he didn’t know what he wanted more. To give her a hug. Or drive Dusty to the watering hole and give her something else.

He gave his daughter a hug.

Then he gave his woman a look that held a promise.

She didn’t miss it and she didn’t hide that she liked it.

Dusty then commandeered No into the kitchen so they could deal with the food that needed to be heated up and Clarisse took his hand and led him around the room giving him a blow by blow of her day with Dusty.

This information included why her makeup was different. Dusty did it.

He could not say he liked it. He also could not tell his daughter that.

Reesee had been allowed to wear makeup when she turned fourteen. Her early efforts weren’t the greatest which meant she was teaching herself and, likely, her mother didn’t give her pointers. Fortunately, she eventually learned that subtlety was the way to go.

He wasn’t a girl but he figured from the way she relayed the incident that sitting with a woman who had Dusty’s beauty and getting your makeup done was a teenage girl treat.

And one thing was certain, Dusty had gone far beyond the call of duty and in doing so entirely erased his daughter’s anger and pain at the disappointment her mother crushed her with that morning.

Not long after, the music went on and the cars started arriving either carrying kids or dropping them off. Mike had learned three years earlier that his presence was no longer required at his daughter’s birthday parties. This year, however, since he’d allowed boys to be invited and Clarisse let No invite some of his friends, he made it clear he would be around to chaperone.