SATURDAY SUCKED. DEREK ended up working two shifts, one as a bartender and one to cover a dancer who called out sick. Although he’d made a slew of tips dancing, there had been a group of drunk women celebrating their friend’s twenty-first birthday, and a handful of them had hung around the parking lot after he closed for the night. He was used to being propositioned—and turning them down—but it never failed to surprise him how far some women went to be noticed. He’d been flashed, offered blow jobs, hand jobs, sex with multiple partners, and just about everything else under the sun. It had always been easy to walk away, especially now, since the only person he wanted to be propositioned by was a certain professor with cautious eyes and a hungry heart.
Sunday afternoon, as he waited for Talia to arrive, he remembered what she’d said about his father’s goodness living on in him. Her comment had given him an enormous sense of pride. He looked up from his drawing, taking in his father’s profile as he gazed out the window. Missing the man his father had been was a never-ending, bone-deep ache inside him. This disease was cruel not only to the person it lived in, but to those lives that person touched. He’d never regretted anything he had to do to make sure his father had everything he needed, and he knew if his father were lucid, he’d want him to do whatever it took to help other families who were in the same situation. He could only hope that one day Talia would be okay with his dancing, because he needed that income and flexibility to make it all happen.
He set his hand on his father’s leg, catching his attention, and said, “Pop, you remember we’re going to the museum soon, and my friend Talia is coming along?” Derek knew his father wouldn’t remember their plans for the outing, but he always posed questions as if he might, just in case he got lucky. They’d had a nice morning, and his chest constricted as he waited for his father to respond, hoping this wouldn’t agitate him.
“Okay,” his father said, then went back to looking out the window.
He sighed with relief. Another hurdle avoided. At least for now. He went back to drawing, and a few minutes later he heard Talia’s car out front. Adrenaline pushed him to his feet, and he watched her through the front window as she parked. “I’ll be right back, Pop.”
He raked his hands through his hair, taking a moment to settle himself down. He didn’t want to seem overly anxious even though he was. He opened the door just as she climbed the porch steps, looking gorgeous bundled up in her red coat and flashing her heart-melting smile. The day they’d spent apart felt like a year. How was it possible that he’d missed her so much in such a short time? Drawn to her like a bee to a flower, he stepped outside and gathered her in his arms. His entire body exhaled. This was so right. She belonged in his arms.
“Hey there, Teach. It should be illegal to look as good as you do every day of the week.”
Her arms circled his neck, happiness twinkling in her eyes. It was the greatest sight he’d ever seen. Well, other than the lustful looks she’d given him the other night.
“I’m no longer your teacher, and you need to kiss me quick, before I die of anticipation.”
“Sweet Jesus, you are the most precious thing.”
He lowered his lips to hers, going for a tender kiss, but his first taste of her sent bolts of heat coursing through him, and when she pushed her hands into his hair, making sensual sounds, tenderness was a lost cause. He deepened the kiss, and they stumbled with the force of it, crashing against the wall beside the front door. In his T-shirt, his arms took the brunt of the brick, and those abrasions only made their make-out session that much hotter. She fisted her fingers in his hair, holding on so tight the sting shot to his cock, sending his hips bucking forward.
“Mm,” she moaned, and tugged on his hair again.
“Fuck, Talia,” he ground out.
He wedged himself between her legs, grinding against her. Their kisses turned rougher, more urgent, as if these few seconds might be all they ever got. And hell if that didn’t rattle Derek to his core. Thinking of his father alone in the house, he reluctantly broke away. Her lips glistened, pink and alluring. Fire and ice battled inside him with the realization that he needed to get inside. But he wasn’t ready, not yet. He had to have more.
He laced his fingers with hers and took her in another cock-throbbing kiss. She arched against him, wanting and needy. Fuuuck.
“I can’t stop kissing you,” he said between bouts of devouring her. “But I have to.”
“I know.” She went up on her toes, allowing him to consume more of her.
When they finally parted, they were both breathless. He pinned their joined hands above her head, because if she touched his hair again, he was going to lose it. Her eyes said take me, her writhing body pleaded now, but she was worrying her lower lip in the way that made his insides go soft. He released her hands and gathered her in his arms. “Was that a giant leap outside your comfort zone?”
He met her smiling eyes and kissed her softly. “I do know, Talia. I see so much that you try to keep hidden.”
“Everything with you is outside my comfort zone,” she said with a more serious expression. “But I’ve decided my family is right. It’s time I step outside that familiar circle, and I want to do it with you.”
Her gaze moved over his face, slowing at his mouth so long, his body rocked into her again, earning a sensual sigh.
“Maybe I’m part of your new comfort zone.” He kissed her again, slow and sweet, before finally putting space between them for the last time. He straightened her coat, tucked her hair behind her ear, touching her anywhere he could without ramping up their arousal, because not touching her wasn’t an option.
She inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly. “I was nervous about meeting your dad. You got rid of that anxiety, but now there’s this between us, and I’m going to be hot and bothered all day.”
“Want to go back to your car and start over?” he teased.
She shook her head. “It wouldn’t matter if we never touched. This heat between us is inescapable. Your eyes do me in every time.”
“Man, do I love knowing that.”
He kissed her quickly, aware of the minutes ticking by. “Before you meet my father, I just want to remind you again that sometimes he gets agitated, and—”
She quieted him with a hand to his chest. “You don’t have to warn me. I read about Alzheimer’s last night. From what I understand, with mild dementia, people can go through their normal days, but little things get missed. Maybe their shirt is on backward, or they might go searching for something and can’t remember what it was, or tear apart a cabinet and forget they were looking for something altogether and even deny they made the mess if asked. And in moderate dementia, the person lives more moment to moment, needing routine. Even simple things—like a stranger showing up,” she said with a compassionate glance, “can throw the person off. There was so much information. I don’t remember all of it, but I know some sensory aspects are difficult. A shower can feel like a hailstorm; discomfort can come from spaces feeling confined or cold or any number of things, which can cause the person’s world to feel out of control and confusing.” She swallowed hard, and hurt rose in her eyes. “Not to mention, they’re losing words, and things become hard to process. The language they’d always known, their surroundings, and the people they love are suddenly foreign to them.”
She pressed a kiss to the center of his chest and said, “It’s such a terrible disease. I don’t want to make anything harder for either of you, so if at any point my being around is too much, I won’t be hurt if you ask me to leave. And on the flip side, I would really like to get to know the man who raised you, in any form possible.”
Derek’s throat thickened with emotions. He felt splayed open, with all the heartache he’d experienced exposed. At the same time, he was filled with gratitude and wonder for the woman he’d only just gotten to know who had taken it upon herself to try to at least understand his father and his situation.
Talia wasn’t afraid of many things, but when she was researching Alzheimer’s, fear and compassion swelled inside her, and she’d ended up in tears. The thought of losing a loved one to such a horrible disease frightened her, but that wasn’t the worst of it. She’d learned that early- or younger-onset Alzheimer’s was caused by a gene mutation and there was a high probability of it being passed down to children. Derek was not only caring for his father without any familial support, but surely he knew what she’d only just discovered, and that tore her heart out and told her just how strong a man he really was.
Derek slipped her coat from her shoulders and hung it on a hook in the foyer, giving her a moment to take in her surroundings. From the outside, the farmhouse had a welcoming, lived-in feel, though it was in need of a little TLC, with missing shingles and a faded red metal roof over an expansive front porch, which she’d noticed was missing a few balusters. She wondered if Piper or her father could replace them for him. The interior was clean and well loved. Hardwood floors had faded paths from one room to the next, ingrained with the history of family life. A small kitchen was tucked to the left of the front door, the spacious, high-ceilinged living room to the right. The foyer opened to a wide hallway feeding two rooms behind closed doors and another open living area. It was easy to imagine Derek as a boy racing through the house in sock feet.
He took her hand. “Ready?”
She felt tension in the tightness of his grip as he led her into his living room to meet his father. Flaxen-colored walls with off-white trim, earth-toned sofas, and upholstered end chairs made the room feel homey. Bookshelves packed tight ran along a half wall separating the living room from the foyer, and a fireplace flanked with tall windows made Talia want to cuddle up with Derek and hunker down for the evening by a roaring fire. The mantel was decorated with pictures of Derek and, she assumed, his parents, since the man in them appeared to be a younger version of the gentleman currently sitting in a leather recliner, looking through a journal.
Derek squeezed her hand and then released it as he crouched beside his father’s chair and touched his hand, drawing his attention. Talia’s thoughts skidded at the deep-set, radiant blue eyes gazing up at Derek. Only while Derek’s were strikingly aware of everything, his father’s eyes had the softness of a man looking at the surface, but not actively participating in his surroundings, which tugged at her heartstrings. She saw so much of Derek in his father’s features, the dark brows that arched up at the edges, a square jaw covered with a few days’ whiskers, and large hands. Did Derek see himself in his father, too? If so, did that scare him?
“Pop, this is my friend Talia. She’s coming with us to the museum today,” Derek explained.
His father’s eyes moved slowly over her face, and a smile lifted his cheeks. “Eva, you love the museum.”
Derek glanced at her, and then he looked at his father and said, “Talia does look a lot like Mom.”
She put her hand on Derek’s shoulder, recalling what she’d read about helping Alzheimer’s patients feel good about themselves. She knew not to try to convince his father she wasn’t his late wife. “I’m going to take that as a compliment,” she said gently. “I do love museums.”
The gratitude in Derek’s eyes warmed her to her toes.
“This must be Dusty.” His father pointed to a drawing in the leather journal on his lap. “But this is wrong. Dusty was smaller. I’ll have to fix that.”
Talia glanced at the cartoonish drawing as Derek took the journal from his father’s lap.
“Dusty was my father’s dog when he was young,” Derek explained. “Let’s put this down for now so we can go to the museum.”
“Eva loves the museum,” his father said as he rose to his feet.
They went to the foyer, and as Derek helped his father into his coat, his father’s brows knitted and he stared at Talia for a long moment. She could see something changing. Despite having researched the disease, she was struck by how clouds seemed to lift from his father’s mind and the way his gaze became clearer, more active.
“Hello,” his father said. “Derek, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”
“I am.” Derek put his arm around Talia, relief evident in the cadence of his voice. “Pop, this is Talia Dalton.”
A haunted smile appeared on his father’s face. It was the smile of someone who knew they were slipping away. He took Talia’s hand between the two of his and said, “How’d my son swindle a pretty girl like you into coming over?”
Derek chuckled. “Talia, this is my father, Jonah Grant.”