I’m biding my time. Waiting for the justice system to do its job.
Since we’re taking my car to Santa Monica, I pick Shep up, which means I don’t have to make up some excuse for him to pick me up at work instead of home.
“Where’s Cersei?” Shep asks as he tosses his bag in the back of my car.
After he gets into the passenger’s seat, I smile. “She’s with my sister and her husband.”
I can’t give Jimmy any more ammunition. He’s already declared himself the primary caregiver for my dog.
“Is Millie keeping Julia and George?”
“Yes. I’ll have them next week and the following week while she’s in Florida for more training. There’s a new product line they’re launching next month, and she wants me to mention it to you in case you’re interested. So there, I told you. You’re not interested. And I think you look nice today.”
I giggle. “Thanks. You look nice today too.”
He glances down at his basic white tee and gray shorts. “Ya think?”
“I do.”
After two hours, we swap and Shep drives the rest of the way to Santa Monica. He seems content listening to music while I crochet and try not to think of all the things Jimmy might do to my house while I’m out of town. What other things will he “update” to use as evidence that he deserves to stay indefinitely?
“Soph!” Dad pulls me into his arms as soon as he opens the door.
“Hey, Dad. Good to see you.”
He holds me at arm’s length. “You look different.”
I stiffen. There’s no way he notices I’m pregnant. My stomach is still flat.
“Uh …” I return a nervous laugh.
“You’re glowing, baby. Life must be treating you well.” He releases me.
I nod several times. “Something like that. This is my friend, Shep. Shep, this is my dad, Dalton.”
“Nice to meet you.” Dad shakes Shep’s hand.
“The pleasure’s all mine. Sophie’s told me all about you.”
“All lies, I’m sure.” He winks at me and steps aside to let us inside his single-story, three-bedroom, mid-century style home. It’s filled with solid wood floors and contemporary furnishings, stained glass windows, and French doors leading to a nice sized lot enclosed with greenery in every direction. It’s not the family home I grew up in, but I’ve always felt welcomed and at home here.
“So what do you do, Shep?” My dad dives right into the important questions as he leads us toward the bedrooms.
“I work at a pet store in Scottsdale,” Shep answers without any sort of hesitation.
“So …” Dad turns. “I’m not as old fashioned as my daughter has probably led you to believe. Just be straight with me. Are you friends who sleep in the same bedroom or separate bedrooms? I’m fine with whatever.”
“Separate,” I blurt out so quickly it elicits raised brows from both men. Clearing my throat, I offer a sheepish grin. “Just friends, Dad. Nothing more.”
“Okay, baby. Then you know where your bedroom’s at.” He nods to my room on the right. “Shep, make yourself at home in here. I think the bed has been slept in less than a dozen times. You can use the bathroom two doors down on the right. Taryn ran to the market to get something to throw on the grill.”
“Thanks, Dalton. I really appreciate your hospitality.” Shep gives my dad a polite smile and nod before taking his bag into the guest room as I deposit my bag in my room just opposite his.
“It’s not as fancy as your parents’ place in Sedona,” I say, slipping back into his room and plopping down on the bed as he opens the blinds and peers out the window at the yard. “But it’s close to the pier, the beach, and so many great restaurants and shops. I know how much you love to window shop.”
Shep turns toward me, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Only with you.”
“Liar.” I giggle.
“Everything’s better with you.”
“Liar,” I say again, but in a whisper.
He gives me the most cryptic expression. A half smile. An intensity in his brow and eyes.
“Sometimes, I wish I could read your mind,” I say.
And just like that, his expression morphs into one hundred percent mischief. “I don’t know if you’re mature enough to read my mind.”
“Mature enough?” I sit up straight and fold my legs in front of me.
“Mature enough …” he echoes, taking a few steps toward me and pushing my glasses up my nose even though they’re up plenty far. “Have you always looked this cute in glasses?”
I laugh. “No. And I’m not sure I look cute in them now.”
“Speaking of spectacles … are you going to make a spectacle of me tomorrow when we golf with your dad?”
“You mean am I going to let you beat me?”
“I’m pretty sure golfing with a great like your dad will elevate my game. On the off chance that you have a lucky day, are you going to gloat?”