Dillan chuckled as he opened my door to the front seat. Once he was behind the wheel, he asked, like I knew he would. “Pixie?”
“Only my Dad calls me that. Randy only does it when he is being a butthead.”
“So…”
“No!” I smacked him with the back of my hand, Dillan caught it and held it in his. “Dad only.”
He gave me a mock frown. I giggled as I leaned over and kissed it.
The next month passed in a similar fashion. During the week, we stayed at my place. On the weekends, we went to Dillan’s. One Saturday, I asked if he wanted to go meet my Dad. Dillan jumped at the idea. I was not expecting that response. But it did make me happy.
The two men hit it off from the beginning. Laughing, playing games. And telling stories about me. Dillan ate all of those up. Along with the cookies I made before we went there. I wouldn’t let him touch them in his apartment, even though he kept trying. I slapped the back of his hand with a serving spoon, he slapped my butt harder with the same hand. Considering I had only been in one of his shirts at the time, it really hurt. He then took the spoon from me, spun me around to face him, and proceeded to use the spoon for an entirely new purpose. I would never be looking at that spoon the same way again.
We had only been there for an hour when Dillan asked to use the bathroom. Dad took that opportunity to make his opinion known.
“I like him for you.” He said nonchalantly, one eye on his Scrabble tiles and one on the bathroom door.
“Good, so do I.”
“He may not know it yet, but that boy is head over heels in love with you.”
“Daddy!” I silently admonished him. “It’s only been a month. You don’t know that.”
He scoffed and waved my denial away. “Please. I fell in love with your mother the moment I first laid eyes on her. It just grew stronger the more I got to know her.”
I nibbled on my nails nervously. “You think?”
He smiled down to where I was sitting on the floor and patted my head softly. “Yes, Pixie. I see how he looks at you, how he always has your needs on the front of his mind.” His eyes dipped to the pillow I was sitting on. Dillan had refused to let me sit on the hard floor. “You are it for him.”
“But his job…”
“So what? Does a job define a person? Just because people may do bad things in his club doesn’t make him a bad man. What if one of your analysts decided to hack into a bank and steal money? Would that make you a criminal too?”
I felt like he was glossing over the things we both knew Dillan was also involved in, but I got his point. I shook my head in answer.
A few hours later, as we left, my father shook Dillan’s hand. “You do right by my girl, now, you hear? She deserves someone to take care of her, instead of the other way around.”
Dillan wrapped his free hand, the one not being squeezed the life out of by my father, around my waist and held me close to his side. “With my life, sir.”
