Page 55 of A Little Jaded
“I’m here to give Raine a ride,” I explain.
“A ride?” The stranger cocks his head. “You know my daughter?”
My eyes widen. “Raine’s your daughter?”
“Yeah.” Whatever warmth was in his eyes vanishes. It’s replaced with cold calculation as he sizes me up. “Yeah, Raine’s my daughter. Who are you?”
“I’m, uh…” I tug at the collar of my T-shirt.
“Are you her boyfriend?” he demands.
Well, shit. I don’t know what she’s told him. I don’t know anything, actually, and lying to a guy like this feels like the wrong choice, but putting Raine in a bad spot doesn’t feel great, either. She doesn’t want her dad to know about Drake, and now that I’ve officially laid eyes on the bastard, I can’t blame her for wanting to keep him in the dark. He doesn’t exactly look like someone you’d want to mess with, and hedefinitelylooks like someone who holds a grudge.
No, thank you.
Forcing a smile, I tear my attention from him and look at the empty hallway Raine disappeared through before I fucked up by walking in here. “Is she, uh, is she here?”
The guy’s chuckle is low as he steps even closer. I could back down. I probably should back down. Instead, I stand myground. He’s taller than I guessed. Built like a tank. He might have a good twenty-five years on me—maybe more—but it’s clear he’s spent them in the weight room, probably in the boxing ring, too, with the way he carries himself.
“You there for the bar fight last week?” he demands.
Confused, my brows wrinkle, and Raine’s dad laughs. He moves even closer and glares down at me like I’m nothing but the scum of the earth.
“Nah, I didn’t think there was one, either.” His upper lip curls. “What’s your name?”
Where the hell is Raine?
Again, I glance toward where she disappeared. This would be a hell of a lot easier if I knew what I am and amnotallowed to say to this guy.
“I’m sorry, but I think you’re confused?—”
“Name,” he growls.
“Everett Taylor.” My focus snaps from the hallway to the pissed-off father in front of me. “Nice to meet you. And you are?”
“I’m the last face you’ll ever see if you fuckin’ touch my daughter again. This isn’t a warning. It’s a promise. Now, get the fuck out of here.” He shoves me, but I barely move. Not because the guy can’t hold his own, but because I was waiting for it. Expecting it. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s pegged me for Drake’s outburst, and even though I’m itching to set the record straight, Raine asked me not to, and for some reason I can’t explain, I don’t want to let her down or betray what little trust she’s given me since we first met.
Carefully, coolly, I clear my throat and reply, “I didn’t touch your daughter, and I’m not going?—”
He grabs my shirt, twists the fabric in his hands, and brings us nose-to-nose. It takes everything inside of me to keep my cool. To not fight back. To let him treat me like a rag doll when I’m already too close to the edge, thanks totonight’s loss and, well, his assumption I’d touch a single hair on his daughter’s head. Onanyone’shead.
“You ever heard assuming shit makes an ass out of you and me?” I grit out, attempting to de-escalate the situation without airing Raine’s dirty laundry.
His grip tightens on my shirt. “Nah, I think I’ll take my chances.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I warn him.
I should’ve waited in the car. Should’ve stayed as far away from here as possible. But I didn’t know he was still here. She said she wanted to keep her parents in the dark, and here I am, talking to her dad, er, being talkedatby her dad. The semantics don’t really matter because Raine’s gonna be pissed.
“Dad?”
Aaaand, there she is.
Raine’s dad turns toward his daughter, lets my shirt go, and steps away from me. “Glad to finally meet your boyfriend.”
My attention slides to Raine, and I wait to see what she says. How she handles this. Does he think I’m Drake? I hope not since I introduced myself as Everett.Whoops.
Her words from our argument the first night at the cabin come screaming to the front of my mind. Right. Drake never met Raine’s family. If that isn’t a red flag, I don’t know what is.