Page 101 of A Little Crush
“Thanks,” I murmur, no matter how hollow it feels. I want nothing more than to have my dad’s and Henry’s approval. In every aspect of my life, if I’m being honest. I guess we never really grow out of that. Seeking approval from the people we look up to.
Would either of them want to sleep with their boss’s daughter?
I doubt it.
The problem is, I can’t find the willpower to stop.
“Heard all the grandkids are having a sleepover at your Mom and Dad’s,” he continues. “Maybe you’ll finally get a good night’s rest.”
Finally.
As if I don’t already have her part time. Nah, my exhaustion has little to do with my daughter and a hell of a lot more to do with Henry’s. I appreciate my parents’ efforts to consider whether or not I have custody when they plan out all our family gatherings, though. The way they always try to include her despite her young age and lack of enthusiasm—aka meltdowns—when I’m not around. Honestly, it’s one of the reasons why I said yes. Why I accepted the invitation for a sleepover. The more time she spends with them, the less time she cries in their presence, and the more opportunities they have to cultivate their relationship. Add in a date night with Rory, and I caved, accepting their offer.
“Yeah, It’ll be good for her,” I reply.
“And you.” Tapping his knuckles against the conference table, Henry says, “All right, I’ll let you go. But I’m serious about that massage. Understand?”
Numbly, I nod, pushing to my feet. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure thing.”
“Good,” he replies. “And tell my daughter hi for me, okay?Seems she’s never home anymore these days. Guess I have you to blame for that one, don’t I?”
He has no idea.
My stomach churns, but I nod again. “I’ll be sure to tell her.”
Then, I beeline it out of there like my ass is on fire.
36
RORY
As soon as the elevator opens to Jaxon’s penthouse, the warm scent of curry and rice filters through the air. I peek inside the gorgeous space, spotting an array of takeout containers sprawled on the dining table. My mouth waters, and I step off the elevator while Hades gallops in like he owns the place. “Hey.”
Setting one of the takeout containers onto the table, Jaxon replies, “Hey.”
My forehead wrinkles. Jaxon invited me over for Indian food tonight. However, it seems the man beside me is a stranger compared to the one who had his fingers inside me a few days ago. All it takes is one word. One syllable. And I can tell something’s off.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
It’s a lie. I don’t know how I know, but I do. I’ve always noticed when Jaxon’s lying. Even when I was little. Maybe it’s the subtle inflection in his voice. Maybe it’s the tension in his movements. Maybe it’s the way he’s barely looked at me.
“Come take a seat,” he offers. His tone is softer, almostapologetic. It only makes the warning bells clang louder. Without a word, I follow him to the table, and he pulls out my chair, tucking it under me before sitting to my left. As if on auto-pilot, he finishes opening containers, dishing out bird-sized portions onto both plates, barely acknowledging me.
If I was still a kid, I’d push. Demand he tell me what’s really going on. If I was the Rory from before my brother’s wedding, I’d pretend I’m oblivious to the clear shift in the room. Unfortunately, I’m neither of them anymore, and I’m not sure how to handle this situation.
Pressing my lips together, I reach for Jaxon’s hand on the table and run my fingers along his tan skin. “Jax.”
His eyes close, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say I slapped him.
“Jaxon,” I push. “Look at me.”
He does. “Yeah, Squeaks?”
“How was the board meeting?”
“It was good.”
