Page 14 of Everything We Give

“Tell us, Daddy. Tell us.” Caty wraps her arms around my neck and tugs.

I grunt and look at my family. We didn’t get off to a great start, but maybe Aimee and I can salvage the evening. “I got a call fromNational Geographic. They’re sending me on assignment.”

Aimee falls back a step. Her mouth falls open. “Ian, that’s huge!”

I beam. “It’s pretty damn cool.”

“Yay, Daddy!”

“I’m so happy for you.”

Aimee’s reaction sends a thrill through me. “Yeah, this is a big deal for me.”

“For all of us. And you were going to just drive us home and not mention it?”

“Well ...” I let a squirming Caty slide down my leg. She skips circles around us, waving her wand. Someone’s on a sugar high and her dealer stands in the doorway, illuminated by the lit entryway behind her.

“Why are you here? Have you two been arguing?” Catherine boldly asks us, making her way down the porch. “Play nicely and go to dinner.”

I waggle my brows at Aimee. “Wanna go play nicely?” Her cheeks flame.

“Really, Ian.” Catherine shakes her head.

I dip my chin, hiding my grin. I don’t mind Catherine’s interference. We’re fortunate Aimee’s parents care. I wish I could say the same about mine.

Aimee hugs her mom. “We were just leaving.”

“Good. Enjoy your evening. I’m keeping Caty for the night.” Catherine reaches for her granddaughter’s hand.

“Where’s dinner?” Aimee asks me.

“La Fondue.”

Her gaze smolders, traveling down me, lingering on my abs and other manly parts. Maybe she’s changing her mind about playing.

My face instantly warms. I clear my throat, reining in my thoughts.

“That’s why you’re dressed up,” Aimee observes.

I nod. I’d forgone my uniform of faded jeans and V-neck Ts for something nicer. More suave and sexy. I even styled my hair, although one unruly lock keeps landing back on my forehead. I comb my fingers through my hair.

“Our reservation’s in twenty minutes.”

“Then why are we standing here?” Aimee walks back to her open car door.

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Catherine waves good-bye. Caty blows kisses and they go back inside the house.

I join Aimee at the car. “Let’s grab some grub.”

Once we’re outside the restaurant, I turn to her. Hooking my hands low around her back, I peer down into her face. She touched up her makeup on the drive over. Nobody can tell that James—the jerk—had made her cry. I sure can’t. I gently kiss her tinted lips, careful not to mess the painted line.

“Are you sure you want to eat out? We can order takeout and have a quiet night in.” Her mind has been tossed back to one of the most horrific days of her life. The last thing I want is to force her to put on a smile and be in public if she’d rather curl up on the couch with a box of Kleenex and a pint of Chunky Monkey. Of course, that would only make me want to track down James and shatter his nose.

Aimee blinks a couple of times but smiles. She fiddles with a button on my shirt, her eyes locked on my chest. She lightly scratches her fingernails on the material. Pinpricks shoot outward, rippling across my skin. I cover her hand with mine, holding it against my heart.

“Aimee?” I prompt.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she says to my chest.

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