Color Me Pretty: A Father's Best Friend Romance

The last time we’d had this conversation, I was sure she’d shut down. But the wheels were turning as she glanced up at me and stared. Unlike then, I had an idea of what she was thinking now, and I knew it’d be smart if I walked out.

But I didn’t.

“Who’s asking?” she asked qu

ietly. “Is it the Theo West that used to push me on my bike with the training wheels off or the one who barged into my apartment and kissed me like a starved man?”

Throat bobbing, I tried ignoring the hardening cock pressing against the zipper of my pants. “The one who cares about you.”

Her head tilted. “Wouldn’t that be a combination of the two then?”

A shoulder lifted. “It’s a combination of a lot of things. For an artist, you only seem to see in black and white. It’s not that simple though.”

“What are you saying exactly?”

What wasn’t I saying? Abandoning my food, I squatted down beside her, so we were eye level. “I’m saying that I care for you in a number of ways, like I always have.”

She swallows. “Oh.”

Chuckling, I said, “Yeah. Oh.”

She wet her bottom lip. “My professor talked to me before I came home. It made me think about…a lot of things. Art. What inspires me.” Her pause was hearty as she stared into oblivion for a moment. “Did you kiss me to make me feel something for my art? Or was that really because you wanted to?”

Closing my eyes, I shook my head and stiffened when I felt a palm flatten against my cheek. When I dared to look, Della was already pinning me with pleading eyes that I couldn’t ignore. “We both know the answer to that.”

“But I want to hear you say it, Theo.”

I said nothing.

“Please.” Her voice cracked.

Keeping her hand pressed against my cheek with my own, I blew out a breath and settled into her warmth. “The night I showed up here drunk, I’d gotten into it with somebody your father was working closely with. The asshole…well, it doesn’t matter. I lost my temper. Drank to forget my anger and wound up at the one place I knew I needed to be that would make it better.” Her sharp inhale of breath had me locking eyes with hers. “The things that I want to do with you, to you, go beyond kissing, Adele. But that doesn’t make it right.”

“Right?” The dry laugh that escaped her made me draw back slightly. “What about either of our lives have been right lately? And who’s to say what you’re talking about isn’t?”

I blinked. Then blinked again. “There are a lot of factors that society would pit against us in this situation.”

“You keep telling me to ignore what they say, so why are you so enthralled by what judgement would come from them?”

“I raised you—”

“Because you care.”

“Which people,” I cut her off, “might think differently about. Imagine if the roles were reversed.”

“Then I’d be some cougar. Big deal.”

“Exactly. People would probably say shit but not to the extent of an older man going after a much younger woman, especially one he helped take care of. That’s…”

“Bullshit.”

I gaped.

“What? You’re not the only one who’s allowed to call me out. I’m not saying that whatever this is isn’t complicated, but don’t you think it’s worth exploring? No matter how hard it is? We’ve always had each other’s backs. You told me that. Who cares if you’re older than me? It isn’t by all that much. What they say, according to you, shouldn’t matter.”

“And I meant it.”

“So?”