Page 139 of Crushing Clover

I expected a scowl, but his lips twisted in self-satisfied amusement. “How about I’ll make it up to you. We’ll tie you to Lucky’s chair with a vibe for a few hours.”

“Saint, please. You know I was kidding.”

“Once we get home, you’ll find out whether or not I’m kidding, too.”

He wasn’t serious, was he?

If he was, maybe I was intrigued.

Rush swept me up in his arms and started walking back toward the truck. I decided not to mention the cum stains I had to be leaving on his shirt sleeve.

Saint

Warren was on the phone.

I threw the envelope stuffed with cash on his desk, but he held up a finger, keeping me from leaving.

In any other family, the father would want to talk to the son to connect, express affection, or impart wisdom. With Warren, it could be almost anything, except those three things. Knowing him, he was holding me up just to be a dick.

The envelope sat on his desk, ignored. He could be using the cash I dropped off every month to wipe his ass, for all he seemed to care about it.

“Fine, fine.” He hung up without saying goodbye. Always such a rude fucker. Clover didn’t understand the struggle I went through to be less of a prick than the man who’d impregnated my mother.

“Saint John.”

“You remembered my name again. Now I feel special.”

He sighed. “You love playing the victim, don’t you. I’ve given you everything you’ve ever wanted, and the only thing you do is complain.”

“You’ve given me everything except your time, consideration, and affection,” I corrected.

He stood. “Would a hug from your daddy make you feel better?”

No, but punching in a few of his teeth might make me feel better.

“I think it’s a little too late for hugs. I do appreciate the loan, though.”

“And yet you complain about that, too.”

“The interest rate leaves something to be desired.”

“Do you mean the girl, or my convenience fee? You do realize no other lender was interested in taking a chance on you, right?”

“True.”

“And the girl?”

“She’s alive.”

He was studying me, but I’d been hiding my real emotions from this man for almost thirty years.

“You like her.”

“You wish.”

I had a big, big problem. He wasn’t wrong.

How would I negotiate my way out of giving her back?

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