Page 4 of Banking on Love

How was it possible to move mountains inside me with a single word? Or maybe it was the look in his eyes that made me putty. I couldn't put my finger on it. I just knew something had changed for me at that moment.

"You have a lot of guts telling me how to talk to my daughter," my dad muttered. The man rolled his eyes then turned and faced my dad once more.

"As her father, I shouldn't have to tell you how to talk to your daughter. The fact I have to is pathetic and on your shoulders. Not mine," the man stated flatly. "Now, why don't you let your daughter drive you since she cared enough to come down here?"

My father looked around the man at me. He frowned then sighed heavily.

"Fine. But I'm leaving because I'm tired. Not because you told me too," my dad said, walking around the man. "Let's go, Kensi."

My dad stumbled past me towards the door. The smell of booze lingered behind him, making me wish I had a truck so I wouldn't have that stench in my car.

"You okay?" Mystery man asked, turning and facing me. My hands instinctively gripped the bar stool as my knees weakened.

The man was the definition of my dream man. He was tall with dark hair. His jawline was chiseled. He had very little facial hair and what hair he did have was trimmed short. His dark eyes had intensity in them. The kind of intensity that could melt the North Pole.

"Mmhmm," I whispered. "I'm fine. Thank you for sticking up for me."

"Too easy," he smiled.

Even his smile is perfect.

"Sorry, we interrupted your game," I gestured at the pool table. He shook his head and laughed.

"I was just wrapping up and about to walk home."

"I'll drive you home," I said without thought. The man seemed just as shocked as me. "It's the least I can do."

"Are you sure? I mean, I'm not staying far from here so walking isn't a big deal. I used to walk all the time in New York."

"New York?" I gushed.

Why hadn't I picked up on his accent sooner? Ugh. I totally needed sleep, if I let that get by me unnoticed.

"Yes," he chuckled.

"How lucky are you. I've always wanted to go there," I admitted.

Honk! Honk! Honk!I didn't need to look outside to know that it was my car horn being blown by my impatient father.

"He's such a pain in the ass," I muttered.

"Second thought," the man said, making me turn my attention to him. "I'll accept the ride."

He smiled brightly

"Your chariot awaits," I teased, pushing past my annoyance towards the jackass outside, who was still blaring the horn.

"Ladies first," he gestured with his hand for me to go ahead of him.

I bit down my schoolgirl-giddiness and hightailed it to the front door. The man was right behind me. He opened the door, only adding to my warm, tingly feelings.

"Thanks," I managed to say then made my way outside. He followed me over to my car and even opened the driver's door for me.

Such chilvarist manners. Never had a man treated me like this. It was like something out of a fairytale. Something I'd gush over for days, if not months.

I climbed inside and he closed the door softly before hopping into the backseat. My dad turned and faced him. A look of disgust crossed his face.

"Why the hell is here?" my father complained.

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