“Yes, please,” I answered, a little too breathless. He grinned as if he could read the dirty thoughts in my mind. I wanted to kiss him again so badly it was driving me crazy.
Bastian grinned and walked past me to the door, skimming his hand along my shoulders as he passed. The deepest parts of me tightened at his wonderful touch, my skin aflame from his fingers. If he did this to me all day, I would go insane for sure.
Charlotte waited until he passed her to leave before giving me two big thumbs up. I laughed as she then followed him out. As much as she joked, I was glad she liked the two of us together. I knew I didn't need it, but I was glad to have her approval.
Sunrise Kisses: Chapter 17
“Hi, Daddy,” I said, picking up the phone and grinning from ear to ear as I set down my work. I glanced at my watch and saw it was much later than I thought. I had worked all afternoon and into the evening without realizing it.
“Hi, kiddo,” he replied, sounding relaxed and happy. “How's work coming?”
“Slow but steady,” I told him. “I'll get it all done in time. How are you?”
“As good as can be expected. The food here is terrible,” he complained. I could hear the TV on in the background. “They won't let me have any salt.”
I smiled, thinking of him pouting while watching Jeopardy in bed. “At least I'll get the appraisal done on time,” I promised. “That should make you feel better.”
“Don't work too hard,” he cautioned. “You should have some fun while you're out there. You need a little distraction.”
I thought of how Bastian kept finding excuses throughout the day to walk through whichever room I happened to be working in, even if Charlotte or Leo happened to be with him. It made it very difficult to concentrate, knowing he was there, watching me with his blue-gray eyes. I had at least managed to sneak in one short kiss before Charlotte nearly walked in on us.
“What about you, Dad? What was the test for today?” I asked, changing the subject. I didn't want to talk to my father about Bastian or the way he kissed.
“Dr. Verner assures me that he's getting good data,” Dad explained. “It looks like I'm going to need a pacemaker, but I'll let him explain it to you when you get here.”
“A pacemaker?” I felt a jolt of panic again. Pacemakers meant that something was wrong. I shook my head. I already knew something was wrong, but it was still difficult to let the reality set in.
“Yes, and don't worry, Ava.” Dad turned down the TV in the background. “He says once it's in, I'll be right as rain. It's a very simple procedure. I even get to go home the next day. No more scares. I'll be back to usual.”
“I wish I could be there for you, Dad,” I pouted. I wanted to run out the door and hop on the first plane home. “I feel so guilty. You're sick and I'm here, and...”
“No,” Dad interrupted me. “No, Ava. Do not feel guilty about this.”
I played with a strand of hair, twirling it between my fingers. “Can I feel a little guilty about it? I mean, it's your heart.”
“Ava
,” Dad warned, his voice going deep. That tone used to scare me when I was a child and it hadn't lost much to the years.
“Please?” I begged. “It feels like such a big deal.”
“Fine, you may feel a little guilty.” He sighed, giving into me. “You can make it up to me at Christmas and make me an extra batch of those cookies I like.”
“Done,” I promised, my heart feeling a little bit lighter. It wasn't a real solution to my guilt, but at least Dad sounded like himself again. “I'm glad you're feeling better, Dad. I don't know what I'd do without you.”
“You'd do just fine,” he assured me. “You're strong. Like me. Besides, you aren't getting rid of me that easily. Dr. Verner says with this new pacemaker, you'll be struggling to keep up with me.”
I smiled, knowing that my dad was going to prove Dr. Verner right even if it killed him.
“Everything's going to be just fine, okay?” Dad's voice was soft. I heard a voice in the background that I assumed was a nurse. “Hey, honey- the nurse is here to check my vitals. Can I call you in the morning?”
“Yeah, I'll be waiting for it,” I answered. “I”m glad you're doing good, Dad.”
“Better than good,” he promised. “I love you, Ava. More than words.”
I smiled. It was something we had said for as long as I could remember. My mother used to say, “I love you more than words can say,” but as a child, I couldn't repeat the phrase properly. It had morphed into, “I love you more than words,” and stuck. I knew Dad was feeling better if he used that expression.
“I love you too, Daddy,” I replied. “More than words.”