Page 30 of Saving the Last Heir
The smell of coffee brought me back to reality, and I threw off the covers and padded to the bedroom door, cracking it open an inch. The scent grew stronger, mixed with the savory aroma of frying bacon and eggs.
“Ja—Jackson?” I called, my voice shaking.
Opening my mouth, I took a breath, terrified that he would answer, but also afraid that he wouldn’t. What if all that had been a really fucking weird hallucination. Maybe I’d gone to a bar after work and met some sleazebag, who’d slipped me a roofie or something. What if I was a prisoner of some psychopath? Though, the windows of the room looked like they were easy enough to open, and I hadn’t been tied to the bed. Also, nothing felt off with my body.
“Hey,” he called back. “Are you ready for breakfast?”
Letting out a shuddering sigh, I nodded to myself. “Uh, yeah. Be down in a second.”
“Good timing. It’s almost ready,” he said as I closed the door.
Leaning against the door, I took a few calming breaths. As I did, I spotted my cell phone lying on the nightstand beside the bed.
He reallyhadgone back to get it.
“A man of his word,” I whispered as I punched in my code.
Seeing the ten missed texts and five missed calls, I groaned.
“Shit.”
Most of the texts were from the guys at the garage. Carlo asked if I was sleeping late. Reggie asked why I wasn’t in yet. Brent told me to answer my goddamn phone. The calls were all from Dad.
I didn’t even bother listening to the voicemails, instead calling my father immediately. It was only eight in the morning, but that waslatefor me. Usually, I was the first one at the shop.
Dad picked up on the first ring. “Where have you been?”
“Hey,” I said, wincing and closing my eyes. “I’m okay.”
“You didn’t come home last night,” he said, and I could hear the worry in his voice.
“I was working late,” I said, which wasn’t atotallie. “It got really late, and I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“But you weren’t at the garage this morning. I called Reggie, and he said you weren’t there when the whole crew arrived. I went down there to wait for you.”
Oh my god. I already felt bad enough about making him worry, but he’d actually gone to the garage with his health issues?
“Dad, you didn’t need to do that. I’m fine, I was… I was just tired, okay? I slept through my alarm.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, and I knew what was coming. I stifled a moan of embarrassment.
“But where did you sleep,conejita?” The worry was gone now, replaced by shrewd excitement. “Were you perhaps at a friend’s house? Or better, aboyfriend’s house? Or girlfriend, you know I believe love is love.”
“Jesus, Dad, stop.”
Over the last several years, my father had begun to worry that I was focusing too much on the shop, the employees, and him, and that I would grow old alone and sad. He’d even started asking people in the neighborhood if they had any eligible family members close to my age. There was nothing more embarrassing than having your retired father trying to play matchmaker.
“What?” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m only asking.”
“Yeah, I know. Listen, I’ve got to go, I’ve got some errands to run. Can you call the garage and let them know I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere?”
He sighed, but thankfully didn’t argue. “Fine, but I want to know more about this mysterious night out.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure, sure. Later. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I hurried downstairs, stepping into the kitchen right as Jackson was setting down a plate of food on the island. I looked at him, sweeping my eyes up and down his form. He was dressed in a pair of jeans that hugged the muscles of his legs and ass, and a simple white T-shirt that showed off his flat stomach, thick biceps and forearms, and broad chest. He looked fresh as a daisy, even though there was no way he could have gotten more than two or three hours of sleep—not when he’d flown all the way back to the garage, then got up earlier than me to make breakfast.
