Page 129 of Crash Course
She bared her teeth at him and he snorted. "Don’t get pissy with me. Not my fault he’s got rotten timing."
"I’ll talk to him and get him out quick." Bending to pick up his shirt, she tossed it to him. "You’ll need this back on. You might want to wipe my lipstick off." She tapped the mute button again and lifted the phone to her ear. "Tom? Sorry about that. You can send him up."
Minutes later, after Cruz scrubbed lipstick off and Cilla situated her clothing and fixed her hair and makeup, a knock sounded. She glanced at Cruz, propped on the edge of one of her island stools.
"Here we go," she said. "Other than my little meeting with his lackey this morning, I don't know why he’s here."
"I guess we’ll find out."
She marched to the door, paused a second to center herself and take a breath. Maybe paste on a smile and rid herself of the tension plaguing her a lot more lately when it came to Dad.
Too close. That’s all it was. She needed distance. Something she’d have in a few weeks when she moved into her new office. Now wouldn't be the time to tell Dad about that. Too personal of a conversation to have in front of Cruz.
She swung open the door. "Hi, Dad."
He was still in his buttoned-up suit, and his stiff posture told her everything she needed to know. Pinched lips creased the skin around his mouth, his telltale that whatever he had going on—she could take a guess—wasn’t good.
Dad nodded and without being invited in, stepped through the door. "We need to talk."
No peck on the cheek, no smile, no how-was-your-day.
Yep. Cilla was in the doghouse. Either Allison had called Dad for a comment or Paul filled him in.
Dad marched right past her into the open living room and halted.
"By the way," Cilla quipped, "I have company."
"I see that."
"Sir," Cruz said from behind her as she closed the door. "Nice to see you."
Walking the few feet to the living room, she found Cruz on his feet, shaking her father’s hand.
"Cruz," Dad said, "didn’t realize you were here. Apologies for the interruption."
Cilla joined them just as Cruz reclaimed his seat on the stool. "What’s up, Dad?"
He swung his head to Cruz, then back to Cilla. "We need to talk. Privately."
Meaning, Cruz should get lost.
But guess what? This was her house and her father had shown up unannounced, probably to ambush her because that’s the way he operated.
Right now, she wasn’t inclined to allow him to control the situation.
"Cruz and I were about to grab dinner. Can you and I talk in the morning?"
"No."
Cilla turned back to Cruz. For what reason, she had no clue. All she knew was she was stuck and she thought . . . what? That he’d help her? Rescue her from the big bad wolf.
Piss on that.
Since when did she need anyone to fight her battles?
"Uh," Cruz said before she could spin back to Dad. "I can give you a minute."
"That’d be fine," Dad said. "Thank you."
