didn’t answer because silence was better than admitting he was right.
He drew me closer and I realized how muscular he was. He was six inches taller than me, too, even with my two-inch boot heels making up some of the height difference.
“I really like you,” he said.
“I really like you, too.”
“Good.” Then he lowered his lips toward mine—
“Excuse me?”
I jumped out of Rick’s arms and whirled around. I knew that thick accent. Dad only pulled out the Bronx voice when he was trying to intimidate. He made it sound like he had mob connections—which he sooo did not. He’d lived in Las Vegas longer than he ever had New York.
“Dad!” I pasted on a smile as frustration (no kiss) warred with embarrassment (so busted). Dad had the worst timing ever. “This is my friend. Rick Widdenstock.”
My father wasn’t much taller than I was, but he was built like a bull. Barrel-chested and muscular with slicked-back dark hair and amber eyes that took in everything, he did kinda look mob-ish.
“How ya doin’, Rick?”
Rick pretended my dad hadn’t scared the crap out of us. He crossed the room and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
My father pumped Rick’s hand. He was impressed by good manners. Me, too, actually.
“My little girl, you know, she’s not sixteen yet.”
“No, sir. But I’ll be here tomorrow night to celebrate her birthday.”
“Just see that you celebrate it with your hands in your pockets, Rick.”
“I have every intention of kissing Molly, sir,” he said. “I’ve waited for her a long time.”
I almost fell over. A long time? I didn’t think he’d noticed me until two weeks ago. And that was only after he’d broken up with Mina—and they’d dated all last year. Maybe he was just laying it on thick for my father. Although his announcing he wanted to make-out with me probably hadn’t made Dad all that happy.
But it sure did me.
“I appreciate honesty, Rick. But watch the hanky panky, y’hear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Walk your young man out, Molly,” said Dad. “I’ll wait for you here.”
Terrific.
Rick might’ve been cowed by my father, but he’d hidden it well. He’d made a stand, too. He took my hand and we walked outside together. We leaned against the driver’s side door, close but not touching. I wouldn’t put it past my dad to be looking out a window and scowling at us.
“You must really want to date me,” I said, realizing as the words left my mouth that I’d made a huge assumption. I mean, kissing me was one thing, committing to dinner and a movie every weekend was something else. That was dating, right?
“Yeah,” he said softly. “I really do.”
“Why?” I asked. I didn’t feel like anyone special, and I certainly didn’t fit in with Mina and her crowd.
“You’re pretty, smart and funny. What’s not to like?”
I pretended to think about it. “True.” I looked up at him through my eyelashes. “So why should I date you?”
“Because I have a kickin’ ride, I’ll pay for every date and...” He leaned down and whispered, “I’m a very good kisser.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” I said primly.
He laughed. Then he put a finger to my lips. “You’ll see tomorrow night.”
Disappointment crowded my stomach. “Tomorrow?”
“When you’re sweet sixteen, Molly Bartolucci, I will kiss your socks off.” His lips melted into that oh-so-sexy grin, and I grinned back, butterflies jumping and fluttering.
I stood in the driveway and watched him leave. He waved at me then drove sedately down the street. I turned to go back into the house, prepping my story for Dad.
He was still in the living room. He’d pulled a picture off one of the shelves, the last one we’d taken before Mom bailed. When he looked at me, tears glittered in his eyes.
“You look just like her.”
Dad didn’t really talk about Mom that much. For a while, there’d been a hole in our family, but eventually it closed up. She’d left, and we’d survived. Still. This was weird. I’d been expecting the chewing out of my life, and he was getting all sentimental. I sucked in a breath and said, “We weren’t doing anything. He just gave me a ride. I had to change clothes—”
Dad put the picture back and waved off my explanation. “Demetrius called my cell and said that Whacko Woodbine’s zombie bit you.” His gaze dropped to my shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah, Dad.”
He nodded. “Good.”
I put a hand on my hip and frowned at him. “Who are you? And what have you done with Al Bartolucci?”
Dad chuckled. “You think I don’t know about you and boys? Oh, I know. You’re a good girl, Molly. But you’re gonna be sixteen and you wanna date. I get it. And that guy, Rick, he’s all right.”
“And the zombie bite?”
“Demetrius is a world-class necromancer,” said Dad. “He says you’re gonna be fine, so you are.” He opened his arms and I walked forward to accept his hug. He kissed the top of my head. “You’re very special, Molly. I know that. You gotta lot of things to do, you know? I’m real proud of you.”
For some reason his words weren’t comforting. His body was tense, and I felt the sorrow woven in with his pride in me. He wasn’t telling me something—and I knew it was important. And it made him sad.
I leaned away from his embrace and looked into his eyes. I didn’t know if I’d be able to bear it if something happened to my dad. I already knew life wasn’t fair—if it was, parents wouldn’t leave. “Daddy, is something wrong? Are you sick?”
He looked surprised. “What? No. No way. I’m just wallowing because you’re a young lady now and you’re making me feel like an old man.”
I felt the truth in his words, but I still knew that he was holding back something important. Something I wasn’t gonna like.
“C’mon. We’ll go to the Zomporium and rescue your sister.”
“I think you mean we’ll rescue Mrs. Woodbine.”
Dad laughed. “Yeah. Ally will eat her for lunch, that’s true. But that woman deserves it. I should’ve never taken her business.”
