Page 92 of The Lilac River

His stare raked over me, from my head to my feet, taking in my appearance. There was no disguising the fact we’d just had sex. I had bare feet; my shirt was open, and you could smell it in the air. And there Lily was wearing my flannel, hair wild and her dress clutched against her chest like a shield.

My brother opened his mouth to say something. I shook my head slightly. No explanations. Not now.

"I'll take you," I said quietly. "We can talk."

But she didn’t even look at me. "No. Wilder, please."

I felt every ounce of her rejection like a knife.

"Take her," I said hoarsely.

Wilder nodded. "Come on, Lil," he said, his voice soft and coaxing. “Let’s make a run for the truck.” He paused at the door, throwing me a questioning look and I knew that I was in for a grilling when he got back.

“Tell her I’ll call her tomorrow.” He gave me a single head nod. Jaw tight.

And then she disappeared into the storm, and I watched her go, the ache in my chest almost unbearable.

That should’ve been me. I should’ve been the one to take her home. I’d spent ten years dreaming of touching her again and the first thing I’d done was hurt her.

“Bertie, I won’t ask you again.” I pinched the bridge of my nose as my daughter bounced on her bed. “It’s time for bed and for you to stop disrespecting the furniture.”

She practically paused mid-bounce and frowned. “What does disrespecting mean?” she asked when she landed on her ass.

“You know what it means.” I picked up her discarded clothes and threw them into her dirty laundry hamper. “Stop playing dumb with me, Roberta.”

“What does playing dumb mean?” She tilted her head to one side and frowned.

Damn it. Never mind counting to ten, I was going to have to count to a hundred the way she was winding up my nerves. I had no idea what Felicia had given her after dinner, but something had put a spark in her.

“Whatever questions you ask are not going to delay your bedtime.” I pointed at the bed. “Now get into it before I stop any play dates for a whole month.”

She put a finger to her lips, making it obvious she was thinking about pushing my limits a bit further. Instead, she huffed and puffed as she finally got into bed. Grateful for the reprieve, I bent to tuck her in.

As usual her lips were pursed, head up, urging me to give her a good night kiss.

“Night munchkin,” I dropped a kiss to her forehead, while she kissed my chin, rubbing her lips straight after, just like she always did, because of my stubble.

"Daddy?"

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "What now, munchkin?"

"Do you think Miss. Gray is pretty?"

The air left my lungs in one whoosh.

"I don’t know," I lied. “I’ve never thought about it.”

Bertie erupted into full-on belly laughter.

"Biggest fairy story ever," she giggled. "Night, Daddy. Enjoy dreaming about Miss. Gray."

I shook my head, smiling despite myself. “Bertie, I swear to you I?—”

“Don’t swear or sweat it, Daddy. I understand. Now if you don’t mind I really need my beauty sleep.” And the little drama Queen turned her back to me.

What was it they said about out of the mouths of babes?

“Bertie asleep?” Gunner handed me a bottle of beer, the look on his face suggested he knew I needed one.

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