"That's nice," he said, then smiled. "I got no idea what that is, but if it makes you happy, go for it."

"Here's the thing," I said, taking a deep breath. "The program's in Portland."

I braced myself, expecting him to explode. He didn't disappoint.

"What the f.u.c.k are you thinking?"

"Cookie and I were talking at the wedding," I said. "She's got s.p.a.ce and could use a little rental income. She's lonely since Bagger died. She loves Portland, but having a friend around would help."

"Don't bulls.h.i.t me, little girl," he muttered. "This has to be about Hunter. What the f.u.c.k did he do to you? You gotta talk to me."

I shook my head. He'd been after me to give him details of my time alone with Liam, but I wasn't ready for that. I might never be ready. It seemed like my feelings changed daily, but I knew one thing for sure.

Dad wasn't the person I'd be talking to when and if I felt the need.

"No, this is about me," I told him firmly. "It's time for me to strike out on my own. I love Portland, I love Cookie, and I need to get out of Coeur d'Alene."

He looked away, face hardening.

"If it's not Hunter, is it Painter? You need to get away from him? I know he was all over you last night, but I can make him back the f.u.c.k off, baby."

"No," I repeated. "That's part of the problem. Everyone thinks it's about the men in my life, or the club. It's not. This is about me. I love you, but I'm almost twenty-three years old. I want my own s.p.a.ce-it's time."

"I want you to be happy," he said slowly. "And I can even understand moving out on your own. But Portland is the wrong city."

"Don't give me that," I told him. "The truce with the Devil's Jacks is solid. Deke and the brothers will be there for me. You have to accept the fact that I'm an adult and I can take care of myself. I promise you-if I need help, I'll ask for it. But you can't just tie me up in bubble wrap and store me in the bas.e.m.e.nt. Kit's on her own and she's doing fine. It's my turn."

"Well, if that's what you really want ..." he said finally. He shook his head. "I don't like it. For the record, I don't like her being out there, either."

I smiled, because I knew I had him.

"I'll be fine, Dad. I love-"

"Oh, I can't believe how much my head hurts," moaned my former cla.s.smate as she stumbled into the kitchen, her face faintly green.

Kind of like the inside of a cuc.u.mber.

The wave of warmth I'd been feeling toward Dad chilled. Why the h.e.l.l did he keep f.u.c.king around with women like this? Mom would kill him dead if she saw him pulling this s.h.i.t. Not out of jealousy. Nope. Straight-up mercy shot.

"You think you could turn that music down?" she whimpered.

I shook my head in mock sorrow, then shouted, "Can't find the remote!"

Her entire body shuddered and then I felt sort of guilty. I might be disgusted by the situation, but now she was turning all pitiful on me, ruining a perfectly good self-righteous snit.

"Oh, here it is," I muttered. I grabbed the phone and turned the music off, wishing I could remember her name.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" she asked, and I bit back a sigh. At least I wasn't the only one with a s.h.i.tty memory.

"We went to school together," I said. "Unfortunately, you f.u.c.ked my dad last night, so I thought I'd make you breakfast. Consider it your consolation prize."

Confusion filled her face, and I let the last of my snit go. Who cared if Dad screwed twenty-year-olds? At least he wasn't marrying them.

"You want some coffee?"

"No thanks," she said. She looked over at the silent man watching us and frowned. "She really your kid?"

He nodded, and I saw a hint of humor in his eyes.

"That's kind of creepy," she said, glancing between us. He shrugged.

"You ready for a ride home?"

She pondered, the wheels in her head obviously a little rusty.

"Um, yeah," she said. "That's probably a good idea."

"Vanessa!" I blurted out, feeling proud I remembered her name. She winced, and I realized I'd shouted. "Sorry-I couldn't remember what it was, and then when I did ..."

She just looked at me with big, postparty racc.o.o.n eyes. That's when I noticed her "costume." It was a super short, super tight little dress that had something weird and orange on the front. There was a fluff of green covering each b.o.o.b.

"What the h.e.l.l is that?" I asked. "I mean, what are you supposed to be dressed like?"

"I'm a s.e.xy carrot."

I looked at Dad and shook my head slowly. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"I'm just gonna go get my things," Vanessa said nervously. "This is too weird for me."

"Good idea," Dad told her. "We'll leave in five."

She stumbled back out of the room.

"Seriously? s.e.xy carrot?"

He shrugged.

"I didn't realize how young she was. She looked older last night."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"Are you sure about this Portland s.h.i.t?" he asked, clearly uninterested in discussing his carrot fetish, which wasn't a huge surprise. He didn't take women too seriously. In fact, that was his excuse every time he ran off one of my boyfriends.

He didn't want me hooking up with someone like him. Too late for that. f.u.c.king Liam.

"I'm sure. I've made all the arrangements. I'll finish out my notice this week at the salon, and I'm moving on Sat.u.r.day. I'd like it if you'd drive down with the truck, help me get my things settled."

He sighed, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck.

"You're an adult," he said finally. "You can do what you want. But what about Painter? You totally sure that's over? Boy's got it bad for you."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Painter turned me down and then screwed some s.l.u.t in the bathroom not five minutes later," I said dryly. "I'm done with Painter. Been done with him for a while. This isn't a secret, no matter how much he's been following me around lately. He just wants what he can't have."

His eyes darkened.

"It wasn't the right night, baby girl."

"It never is," I snapped. "I think I can do better."

Dad nodded thoughtfully.

"Okay," he replied. "Hey, Emmy?"

"Yeah?"

"You're making the right choice," he told me. "About Painter, I mean."

I froze. Didn't see that coming.

"What? I thought you wanted me with a Reaper?"

"I do," he replied. "But Painter never fought for you. He never stood up to me, never asked if he could date you, nothing. You deserve a man who'll fight for you, baby girl. You remember that, all right?"

Wow. Didn't see that coming. I felt sudden tears well up, and I lurched forward into his arms. He wrapped them tight around me, resting his chin on my head and rubbing my back softly.

"Just remember," he said. "You and Kit-you can always come home. I don't want you to leave. It's perfect with you here, but I guess you'll do fine in Portland. Just don't sell yourself short. You find what your mom and I had, and don't settle for less."

"Painter is definitely less," I murmured.

"Yup," Dad said. "He's my brother now and I'll stand by him. But I never cheated on your mom. Never wanted to. You need a man who feels the same way, and don't stop until you find him."

"I love you, Daddy," I whispered.

"I know."

"Hey, you got any Febreze or air freshener?" Vanessa asked, her voice a shrill whine. "I got beer s.h.i.ts. Your bathroom reeks."

d.a.m.n. I wasn't the only one who could do better.

"This is a new low, Dad," I whispered. His chest rose in silent laughter.

"Yeah, I'll give you that. s.h.i.t. What the f.u.c.k was I thinking?"

"Something to consider ..." I said, pulling away to look up into his face. He smiled down at me, the blue eyes he'd given me crinkling just a little around the edges. "Moving forward? There is no such thing as s.e.xy produce. Words to live by."

"I'll keep that in mind."

TWO WEEKS LATER.

PORTLAND, OREGON.

"ID?" the bouncer asked. Kit rolled her eyes and pulled out the little plastic rectangle. He studied it carefully before handing it back. Then he checked mine and let us go down the stairs and into the bar.

This was my first full weekend in Portland, and Kit had driven down from Olympia to celebrate my new freedom with me. We'd started out by having dinner with Cookie and her daughter, Silvie, at the Kennedy School. Cookie headed home after that. We moved our party across the river to the Pearl District in search of the perfect dive bar.

Looking around the darkened, underground room, I was pretty sure we'd found it. The music was loud, the crowd was mixed, and the pool table was surrounded by a group of guys I'd rank at about a seven or eight on the "I'd hit that" scale, Liam being a perfect ten.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

How dare he be all sweet and nice in the moonlight, and then take off and never talk to me again? Of course, I did kick him in the b.a.l.l.s ... The memory always gave me a smile.

"Dad know you have a fake ID?" I asked as we moved toward the bar. Kit smirked.

"Of course," Kit replied. "He gave it to me."

I stopped dead.

"No f.u.c.king way."

"Yup," she replied. "Right after I got caught with a bad fake during high school. Told me that he didn't want me getting arrested or in trouble, so I needed quality."

"That is so unfair," I muttered. "He never gave me one."

"Did you ask?"

I shook my head.

"No, I guess it never occurred to me that I could ... I mean, after a certain point he let me drink sometimes at the club and home, but I just didn't think about bars."

"Well, that's the difference between you and me," she said. "I'm always looking for new ways to get in trouble. You're always looking to slide by without anyone noticing."

She had a point. h.e.l.l, you could even see it in our clothing. I wore a simple black top. It showed a little cleavage and outlined my curves, but in terms of club wear it was designed to blend in.

Kit, though ... Not so much.