Guilt hit me right in the chest.
“On Father’s Day, he was really upset with me. It was actually the first time he’d ever said he was disappointed in me…” Her eyes remained down, her beauty taking on a different bearing when she was sad. Her eyes didn’t shine the same. Without that fire, she was a cold mantel. “I still feel bad about it.”
It didn’t matter how he found out so I should keep it to myself, but the guilt was too much. “I was the one who told him.”
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine.
“It was an accident…I’m sorry.” Ever since I’d come into her life, I’d caused a rift in her professional life. But now I’d done it in her personal life too. “I told him I watched the match and I was impressed with you. Mentioned the cigar. I knew something was wrong because his entire expression changed.”
Her eyes didn’t spark with anger, and to my surprise, she gave a shrug. “Shouldn’t have been smoking in the first place. It’s my fault—not yours.”
“I’m sorry, regardless. Didn’t mean to ruin the special day for you both.”
She gave a subtle shake of her head. “Forget about it. I knew better. I was just being a brat.”
“I don’t think smoking a cigar makes you a brat.”
“I’m just more reckless. The most reckless one in the family, actually. It’s time I grow out of that. Causing myself harm is the most harmful thing I could do to my family—especially my dad. But anyway…” Her gaze flicked away, and she admired the painting on the wall. “Do you ever think about returning to Her Majesty, the Queen?”
I was relieved at the change of subject. “Not really.”
“Was it always your intention to come here?”
“Kinda just happened. I bounced around for my education and got to see the world for a bit. America was my last stop, and I just stayed put. Now that I have my research position with your father, I never intend to leave. And the clinic…you know I have big plans for that.”
“Do you have any brothers? Not asking for myself…just some girlfriends.”
I chuckled. “No. I’m one of a kind.”
“What about a sister? I’ve got some gay friends too.”
My sister had been just two years younger than me, and we were close. I’d never wanted a brother because she was more than enough. “No. No sister.”
“What were your parents like?”
“My mom was a big-time behavioral psychologist. Very respected in her field. She believed that the best way to raise a child was by instilling social intelligence from birth, to teach them to have empathy for others, to understand different points of view, et cetera. That’s the key to raising a good person who will help the betterment of society as a whole.”
“That makes a lot of sense.”
“And my dad was a chemist. Worked for Proctor & Gamble for a long time.”
“The people who make toothpaste?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that makes even more sense.”
“What?” I asked.
“I usually don’t like really smart people because they have no social skills at all. It’s like talking to a tree or something. But you don’t have that problem, and that must be because of your mom. Reminds me of my mom. Without her, I’d probably be stiff as hell like my dad.”
I chuckled. “He’s not stiff. I’ve met colleagues a lot stiffer.”
“You should see him at a party,” she said with a laugh. “He’s like an owl.” She opened her eyes wide and turned still. “Just sits there and stares…”
I remembered the first time I’d stepped into his office. That was exactly what he did, but I wouldn’t say it. I just gave a chuckle because it was cute to watch her praise her father then mock him a moment later. “Looks like you and I are a lot alike, then.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” She grabbed her beer and took a drink.
I pushed the paper back toward her, trying to entice her.
She set down the beer, a smirk in her eyes. “Don’t you think this is going a little fast?”
“Not fast enough, if you ask me.”
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. With her head tilted, she sized me up. “What happened to the whole I don’t do relationships and all that shit? And now you’re trying to seal the deal.”
“Because I like you.”
She continued to watch me.
“And you like me too. Don’t act like you don’t.”
She pursed her lips in a playful way, like she wished she could force herself to look aggrieved. “I think you’re hot—”
“You like me.”
“I think you’re good in bed—”
“Baby, you like me.”
“Baby?” she asked incredulously. “Oh no, I don’t think so—”
“Baby, you like me.”
“Oh wow…” She shook her head, her arms still crossed over her chest. “You’re really something, aren’t you?”
I held her gaze, seeing the light in her blue eyes, seeing the perfect cheekbones, full lips, the joy in her features that she tried so hard to hide. “Like I said before, I don’t play games.”