Lingus (42 page)

If anything, all the time I spend with Tristan made life feel a little more precious to me. Life is short, you know.

With that in mind, I was in a great mood when Nicole called at four-thirty in the morning to wish me a happy birthday. Under normal circumstances, I probably would've called her a slut-ass-whore or something along those lines but I didn't. The rest of my early morning was spent answering calls like Josh's, his being a rendition of
feliz cumpleaños
in an atrocious Spanish accent. Tristan called me at some point between Josh and Zoey's calls to wish me a happy birthday and assure me that we'd see each other after work. I spent my day wishing that the school day would go by a little faster so I could get out of there to make it home and celebrate my one special day in the year. I'd made plans to go have dinner with Tristan and my dad, then bowling with my bitches.

Dad. Tristan. Dinner. Together. Shoot me now.

It wasn't that I thought my dad was going to threaten Tristan or anything, but because I knew my dad was going to tease the hell out of me. I'd only brought one of my boyfriends around him in my life and that was The Virgin, or as my dad started calling him in the months after we broke up— the Virgin Mary. Needless to say, my dad knew the moment I opened up my mouth that I was his daughter without a doubt. He'd told me once, after I had backed into his work truck for the second time within a month, that the “dumbass gene” ran rampant in the Berger family. Nicole claimed that his statement explained a lot.

I was dressed and ready for Mag when he called to tell me he was pulling into my apartment complex. Jogging down the stairs as quickly as I could in heels, I found the long, lean frame of a man stepping out of his car by the time I hit the landing.

Jesus Christ. He was wearing a suit for once, a dark gray ensemble that looked tailored to fit his wide shoulders, full arms, slim hips, and muscular thighs. How the hell did he go through the day without getting ruffied by every woman he came in contact with?

He was looking down, with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his charcoal slacks while he walked toward me. At the sounds of my heels clicking against the pavement, his eyes came up and widened. He stopped. Tristan turned to look behind him, back at me, behind him again, and then back at me. He brought the heels of his hands up to cover both of his eyes, groaning. "Am I dreaming?"

"What?" I asked him, stopping just a few feet away from where he stood.

"Is this a dream?"

I couldn't help but snort, tucking my clutch between my arm and ribs. He looked so cute standing there, lips pursed, hands over his eyes like a little kid. "No. Why?"

His fingers moved, twisting in the air while he ground his palms into his eye sockets. "You're wearing that goddamn dress. This has to be a nightmare," he muttered more to himself. "A fucking nightmare."

Instinctively, my hands went to tug at the hem of what I was wearing. It was the same blue dress I'd tried on in front of him a month before for Ryan's wedding, the same one he'd told me was too short. "I thought I looked nice..." I trailed off, trying to keep my voice steady. I swear if he told me I looked bad, I'd nut-punch him.

He chuckled, a deep, throaty, cynical sounding thing while dropping his hands from his face. His eyes opened slowly. "Kat, Kat, Kat," my name was hissed from lips like a snake's prayer. "What am I going to do with you?" he asked with a shake of his head. Large hands reached out to grab my waist, bringing me close to his warm body. He leaned down before brushing his bottom lip against the cartilage of my ear. "You're my control's worst goddamn nightmare. How do you expect me to survive the night seeing you in this?"

Oh. My. Shit.

I felt his hands drift down my sides, over my hips, and to the bottom of my dress. Cool fingertips danced underneath the dress fabric, stroking my thighs, and I was really fucking glad I'd shaved before dressing. "I thought I was going to burn in hell when you tried this on for the wedding," he admitted. His fingers grazed the backs of my thighs before pressing into my flesh. I couldn't help but remember the way he'd looked at me when I'd put it on, the way his hands hovered over me and his heavy lidded eyes.

"Does that mean you like it?" I asked stupidly, absorbing the heat from his body.

"Do I like this?" he snickered quietly to himself. Green eyes looked up at mine, mischievously. Tristan chuckled again, raking his fingernails gently over the top of my thighs. "I like it enough not to care whether you're still on your period or not."

Chapter 57

It all started with Facebook.

There were plenty of things I could blame Facebook for. One would be the spreading of "planking." The second would be that it gave me a reason to dislike pretty much every person on my friends list. The third would be the outing of Josh's sexual preferences; he decided to post it in his profile instead of calling his family to let them know he was — literally —
pitching
for the other team. For a second, I thought that I would also be able to blame it for a possible heart attack.

What started off as a good first dinner with my dad and Tristan spiraled into a mess of nerves in a matter of seconds. The first minutes of dinner were tense, as Frank Berger spared no expense in sizing up my companion, my friend, my Tristan. His dark eyes had been dancing back and forth between the arm Tristan had thrown over me and the long fingers that were caressing my upper arm. I felt more like a teenager than an independent adult with the way my dad was looking. I sipped my glass of water, waiting for him to say something. Anything. It wasn't until Tristan got up to go to the bathroom that he finally leaned forward.

"So, Kitty, when did you and the movie star start dating?" my dad asked casually.

My nose became a fucking fountain. The water that had been going down the back of my throat made a detour to shoot out of my nostrils, leaving a burning pain at the bridge.

What. The. Fuck!

I coughed and gasped, passing the water from my system while he chuckled. "You hiding a squirt gun in your nose?" he teased me with a grin.

Pinching my nostrils together, I coughed a couple of times and glared at the man sitting across the table. It felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest. "He's not a movie star, dad. Why would you think that?"

"I checked his Facebook page," he explained with a shrug of his shoulders. The expression on his face reminded me of Nicole's when she thought I said something stupid.

"Why are you stalking his page?" I asked, looking in the direction of the door that led to the bathrooms, to make sure Tristan wasn't walking back.

"A person's profile says a lot about them," I swear to God he rolled his eyes at me. My forty-five year old father rolled his eyes at me. "I just needed to make sure you weren't dating some eyeliner-wearing drill bit, Kitty."

My brain only locked onto one thing he said. "What the heck is a drill bit?"

His hairy upper lip twitched in confusion at the same time one of his thick, dark eyebrows arched. "Isn't that the saying nowadays?"

I frowned, trying to figure out what in the world he was talking about before I realized it and laughed out loud. "You mean a tool?"

Frank slapped the countertop, making his silverware shake. "That's it! A tool! I just wanted to make sure my baby wasn't dating a tool. You see, my friend's daughter was dating a guy who wears eyeliner and thinks that tank tops are appropriate everyday clothing, and there is no way in hell my girl is going to get knocked up by that kind of
tool
." He had the nerve to wink at the correct use of his last word.

"Oh my god, dad." I wanted to die of shame. Die. Dissolve. Explode. Whatever.

He snickered with wide, dark eyes. "What? It's true!" The deja vu when he happened to repeat things that I was prone to saying was almost too much. Jesus, I really was my father's daughter. I might as well accept the fact that I'd grow up to be a male version of Frank Berger with boobs, embarrassing my kids every chance I got. "His friend asked him a few months ago when he was filming, okay? I saw it on his wall so I Googled his name but nothing came up. I was just curious."

My stomach dropped at how close he came to figuring out that something was going on. I'd call him nosey, but I was pretty positive I'd done the same thing when Nikki had dated her last boyfriend. "I'm pretty sure stalking is against the law." I could see the mess of reddish-brown hair appear by the restroom doors, getting closer and closer by the second. "He's a law student,
One Hour Photo
. He isn't in any movies."

My dad winced at the mention. He'd made me sit through the movie with him years back and had been terrified to take his pictures to get developed since then. The chances of some employee becoming obsessed with him through his fishing pictures seemed pretty slim, but whatever. "He's a good looking guy, don't blame me for assuming he was an actor."

"Who's a good looking guy?" Tristan's deep voice asked as he pulled his chair out to sit down.

"You are," I laughed when my dad made a face at my answer.

Tristan's cheekbones went pink and he smiled, looking at the man sitting across from me. "Thank you," he hesitated for a split second. "Your beard is... nice."

Then it was Frank's turn to get a little red in the face. "Thank you?" he said, making it sound more like a question than a comment. "Your hair is nice?"

A hand went up to tug at auburn colored hair instinctively. "Thanks, uh, I like your jacket," Tristan responded.

"Thank you?"

Silence.

My dad was looking up at the ceiling while Tristan inspected the clean, white tablecloth.
Well this is awkward
. "Should I get you two a room together or something?"

Brown and green eyes snapped up to meet mine, both in what I would like to consider a mix of amusement and annoyance. "No," they barked out simultaneously.

"I mean, I can leave if you two want some alone time—," I snorted out before the feel of a warm palm cupping the inside of my leg stopped me cold.

My dad smirked, not noticing the movement of Tristan's hand and shook his head. "I swear I think your mom dropped you as a child. Repeatedly, more than likely. It would make a lot of sense."

"I'm going with repeatedly," Tristan, the traitor, chipped in. "Your skull took most of the impact, I'd say."

Frank nodded in agreement, "Definitely."

I had a feeling I wasn't exactly going to like where this bromance was going.

Chapter 58

"Your ass is getting old, Booger," Josh cackled from his spot next to me while we waited for Zoey to bowl her frame. We had finished our game and were now patiently waiting for everyone else.

Nikki popped her big sandy-colored head between the two of us, using her Goliath-like stature to throw an arm over Josh's shoulder and smirk in my direction. "Yeah bitch, I'm going to start buying you stock in Depends."

"You two—," I said with a mouthful of popcorn Tristan bought while we waited for our lane to open up. "Are like a year older than I am, so shut the hell up."

Nicole, being the absolute lady that she is, shot me the finger without any pretense of trying to be discreet despite the families in lanes close by. "Call me old, and I'm going to start giving you birthday licks again," she threatened me with a wink.

My ass immediately clenched in fear, remembering the horror that was birthday licks courtesy of Nicole Jonasson. I think I would rather let Tristan meet my back entrance sans lube before I'd willingly let Nikki slap my ass. Okay, maybe not. "Please don't," I begged her shamelessly. I'd rather taint my honor than have my ass marred by her brutal, manly hands. Those hands had taken several Krav Maga classes and could beat my ass. They could probably actually beat just about anyone's ass, really.

The bitch giggled, slapping the top of my thigh lightly. "Just kidding, I'll spare you today since you chose me on your team. I didn't want to be paired up with the two worst bowlers in existence," she eyed the two ex-porn stars across the lane, who were busy talking to each other with really animated facial gestures as they pointed at the lane while also looking like complete goofballs.

Josh and I both nodded in agreement because seriously, Calum and Tristan were awful. Those two deserved to have their own YouTube channel dedicated to their lack of skills. Two hot guys who sucked at bowling? Bowling which required them to bend over? Hell. Yes. I think Josh enjoyed watching them more than Nikki and I did.

We'd been at the bowling alley for two hours by then. My dad had left the restaurant to head back to his hotel immediately after we'd eaten, so he could get a good night's rest before his drive the next day. After Tristan and Frank's verbal make-out session, they'd banded together to make fun of me for the remainder of dinner. Honestly, I enjoyed them getting their bromance on even if I was the butt of the jokes. The last thing my dad said to Tristan before we got into the car to head to the bowling alley was "What kind of shampoo do you use?" It was a freaking miracle I didn't pee on myself from how hard I laughed.

Minutes after we left, I could see Tristan's face in my head when we were pulling into the parking lot. A deep frown creased his face while his eyes locked onto my bare thighs. "Wait a second, how are you going to bowl in that dress?"