The Girl Who Doesn't Quit (Soulless 12)

She didn’t turn around. “I’m just as curious to know your answer, honey.”

I turned back to my dad, still in shock. “This is so weird. You’ve never asked me anything like this before—”

“I’ll stop if you’re uncomfortable, sweetheart. I just…don’t want you to dismiss him because you didn’t get along when you first met. I’ve known him for about two years, and he’s a respectful, good-hearted man who’s available.”

My eyes narrowed. “You actually asked him that?”

“We’re friends. We talk about things.”

The game was forgotten, so now we just looked at each other across the table. “Like I said, he’s not my type.”

“Why?”

Mom spoke from the couch. “He’s a really good-looking guy…”

“Mom.” I rolled my eyes.

“Why?” Dad pressed.

“I just go for a different kind of guy, that’s all,” I said with a shrug.

Mom spoke again. “He’s hot. Smart. Successful. Girl, what more do you want?”

“Mom!” I covered my face in humiliation. “I can’t believe this is happening right now.”

Dad continued to watch me, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say. “I admit this is awkward, but…I’d just like you to consider him. You’re a very special person, Daisy. I want you to be with someone special. Not someone who’s…ordinary. Not someone who stands you up when he agreed to meet your parents. Not someone who doesn’t keep his promises. Not someone who gets his ass handed to him in a bar by a man twice his age.”

I dropped my gaze, embarrassed that this was being brought up again. It had been mortifying enough when it happened in the first place.

“You’re so smart. You need someone who challenges you. You need someone who pushes you. You need someone who shares your values. There’s no rush to settle down or find a husband, but…he’s special like you. I would hate for you to lose your chance because of an old grudge.”

“I’ve heard your suggestion.”

“So, you’ll consider it?” he asked.

“This feels like Bridgerton right now.”

“Bridgerton?” he asked.

“Ooh, I loved that show,” Mom said from the couch. “Simon is dreamy.”

Dad turned to her, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

She waved her hand at him. “But not nearly as dreamy as you, babe.”

“I feel like I’m being set up in the 1800s,” I said. “You’re finding me a partner to marry. It’s archaic.”

Dad shook his head slightly. “When you marry someone, you marry their family. I can’t pretend I don’t have a vested interest in the person you decide to spend your life with. I’m very lucky that I’ve gotten two daughters I absolutely love. I want a son I feel that way about too. And…I like Atlas. He has all the qualities that make you two compatible.”

“I really, really hope that you haven’t said any of this crap to him.” God, that would be so humiliating.

“No. I would never encourage him to make something happen, not unless I knew you liked him first. Daisy, you’re the most incredible woman in the world. You’re the one who gets to decide who you want. He doesn’t.”

Atlas stepped into my office. “After three rejections, I finally got the government to honor his disability claim. The guy served in Vietnam and has to spend the rest of his life with these crippling medical problems—and that’s not enough to grant disability? I have to go down there and yell at people for him?” He stopped at my desk and tossed the rejection letters on the surface. “Three.”

I ignored the letters he set in front of me and stared at his face. Stubble on his jawline. Dark eyes that matched his black shirt. Jeans on his narrow hips. Cords all over his muscular arms. He had a bit of a tan too, like he went for runs in the morning.

He stared back, his expression slowly changing. “Yes?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek as I looked at him, stopping myself from telling him what my father had said. My dad had thrown on some angel wings and got a bow and arrow and decided to play cupid. He was the man who’d given my prom date a hard time. “Good job. He deserves compensation. Honestly, he should sue for all his suffering.”

“I suggested that, but he just wants the disability. Wants to put this behind him and focus on treatment. So, are you stumped?”

“Sorry?”

“You’re wearing the same expression you wear when you’re stumped.”

“Oh, just thinking about a lot of stuff.”

“You always think about a lot of stuff.” He turned around and headed back to the door. “Staff meeting is in one hour.”

“Yeah, see you then.”

He turned around at the door and glanced at me, looking like a sexy guy in a bar with a drink in his hand, not the director of one of the most prestigious clinics in the world, not a researcher who worked side by side with my father. “You sure you’re okay?”