Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 149137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Alone meaning losing her because he was fairly certain no one on earth could take her place. Before he’d been fairly content. He’d had his work and that was enough. He wasn’t sure anything could fill the void she would leave in his life.
She turned the Porsche into the drive and managed to put it in park without stalling the engine. That was one miracle.
Now he had to find a way to get her out of the car or they would sit out here all night, staring at each other. “I’ll go first. You come out when you feel like it.” His hand was on the door. “I kind of thought you liked your dads.”
“I love them.”
He knew. She talked about them a lot and always with great affection. “So why the total terror?”
“Josh, have you ever met a pair of overly protective, slightly pretentious father knows bests? Who know you’re probably sleeping with their precious daughter? Do you have any idea the questions they’re going to have? I’m scared for you.”
He called bullshit. This was abso-fucking-lutely about the questions they would have for her. Well, they’d both introduced each other to the troublesome parts of their lives. She’d met his blackmailer. He had to deal with her dads. All in all, he probably got the better end of that stick.
“I’m good with parents.” He’d played the romantic lead many times. This he could handle. Maybe that’s where he was going wrong. He was being far too controlling and trying to take on all the roles. But they had been perfectly cast for this day and age. He should handle charming the parents and she would murder the blackmailers. They should play to their strengths. “Watch this.”
He left her phone behind and got out of the car.
She scrambled behind him as he limped across the lawn, hand held out.
“Hello, sir, I’m Joshua Hunt. It’s good to finally meet you. Kayla has told me so much about you,” he said with his best leading-man, don’t-worry-about-your-daughter-at-all smile.
The man with the poodle frowned, not taking his hand at all. “Well, I’m glad she mentioned us since she hasn’t bothered to mention you. This whole thing is a complete surprise. One would think that when one’s daughter is going to be dating a celebrity, she would call and give her fathers a heads-up. We had to hear about it from that obnoxious Marty Dixon at the potluck. First he brings that horrible tuna casserole that the seventies spat out and then he announces to all our friends that our sweet daughter is dating…”—the man shivered as though this was something truly distasteful—“…an action star.”
The poodle barked, as though adding its two cents to the discussion.
“Now, Fred, give the kid a chance,” the taller of the two men said. He reached out a hand, shaking Josh’s. “I’m Jim and this is my husband Fred.” He put a hand on his husband’s shoulder, glancing down at him. “You know our Kayla likes to keep her secrets. I blame the CIA. What that institution needs is more transparency. Perhaps a civilian oversight committee.”
“Yeah, dad, that would go over well with clandestine ops. I’m sure voting on what actions to take wouldn’t cause trouble at all.” Kay finally moved up beside him. “Sorry I didn’t call back. Do you know it’s one thirty in the morning?”
Jim was a tall, elegant-looking black man. His close-cropped hair was graying, but in a way that lent dignity to his handsome, intelligent face. “I am, in fact, well aware that it’s one thirty in the morning, young lady. We left Santa Barbara at six. We got stuck in terrible traffic.”
“There’s a fire north of here.” Fred was at least six inches shorter than his husband. “They closed down the highway for over three hours because fire likes to jump around like a kid on a pogo stick. I thought we were going to be squatters. Luckily I had packed a care package and had a couple of lawn chairs. We met this lovely couple driving down from San Francisco and had a nice supper. Well, as much of a supper as one can make from goat cheese and crackers and wine. Thank god, I’m prepared for anything.”
“By the time we got here, it was after midnight and every hotel in town is full,” Jim explained. “So we’re here. Now could someone explain why my daughter is sleeping with a man who thinks King Arthur listened to rap music?”
Damn, naturally that one came up first. He’d thought that Arthur as a rock ‘n’ roll kind of superhero would be a cool, modern take on the legend. No one outside the cast and crew had agreed. A definite misstep.
“No, sir, that was an artistic choice by the director. I’m well aware that Arthur wasn’t into Jay-Z. He was likely more of a pan flute kind of guy.” Everyone was a critic.