Page 41 of Toy Shop

Any hesitation they might’ve harbored about me dating a forty-two-year-old—just a few years younger than any of them were—vanquished in his presence. They had their concerns about me falling into the stereotype and of him taking advantage of me, but he made sure to eviscerate their doubts.

He worked damn hard to remove mine, too.

“Thank you for having me, sir, ma’am, everyone.” He offers them a grin, shaking their hands.

“Eloise and Mack,” my dad corrects him. “Have a safe drive home.”

“Will do.”

My parents and I hug each other one last time, parting so that I can climb into Alistair’s silver Porsche Cayenne. The sun is setting, giving way for the moon to reign over the skies. As we drive out of the city and onto I-5, the clouds clear, and an abundance of stars sprinkle across the darkness of the night.

Sitting on the Dock of the Bay by Otis Redding plays as our soundtrack, while the both of us are silent. There are lots to be discussed, deeper issues to address. Alistair’s charm can only go so far, and he needs to do the explaining he promised right now.

Or so I thought.

Ten minutes into the drive, and still nothing.

“Alistair.”

A warm, rough, yet soft hand lands where my bronze-colored skirt doesn’t reach, setting fire to my bare knee. “Yes?”

Sparks detonate on the skin he’s touching, my body whirring and humming with the electricity spreading throughout.

You said you wouldn’t be dissuaded by his charm, the voice of reason reminds me. I hate it when it’s right.

I cover his palm, flexing my fingers around it, and not without a measure of force, break the contact. He’s as unwilling as I am to sever our touch, but we have to talk.

The road is empty ahead of us, permitting Alistair to avert his gaze and peek at me. “Something wrong?”

“Well, depends on what you describe as wrong.” My feeling of abandonment sneaks up on me, lacing venom into my words, even though I don’t mean to. “Does running off after our morning in the testing room count as wrong? Or disappearing on me for two weeks? Sounds pretty wrong to me.”

“We were having classes. Not dating.” He goes onto the defense. He’s not mad, but definitely off his game.

“Okay.”

This knee-jerk reaction is to be expected, so I let him have it without passing judgment. I read about him a little during these two weeks. Of his upbringing in Mississippi, the number of times the bank almost declared his business bankrupt. He had to have elbowed his way into this world by himself, so he thinks that’s how relationships work.

“You could’ve called, too.” He returns to me, repentance replacing defensiveness.

“Oh, really?” I slant my eyes in his direction. His lips curl up in the smirk he uses to disarm me, slicing through his serious face. “And say what, exactly?”

He’s silent.

“Or better yet, what would you have said to me?” I’m genuinely curious, turning fully to gauge his reaction. “Why did you come here, Alistair?”

The silver light of the moon gleams in his eyes when he casts them at me. “You told me I could.”

“You can do better.” I stand by the declaration I’d made to myself two weeks ago. If he wants me, he better say so himself.

“Listen, I get you’re young and curious—”

He’s not condescending to me, but he’s damn well close. “Think carefully about what you’re about to say and whether patronizing me is how you want to go about it.”

“I’m not patronizing you.” The veins of his arms pump, his fingers clinging to the steering wheel.

“Then don’t start a sentence like that.” Admittedly, I shouldn’t have lost control of my temper. I’m going for mature and adult. Any spike in my tone does the exact opposite.

But when I called this man Daddy, when I gave myself to him, I considered him this all-powerful man who wouldn’t hurt me, wouldn’t talk down to me. And it blew up right in my face.

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