“Do I have to hire my own daughter to look after me?” Chap asks in a cranky voice. “Is that what this is coming to? I’m going to have to pay my daughter to spend time with her father?”

Oh please. What a dramatic old bullshitter. “You couldn’t afford to buy her away from me,” I call out, a cocky drawl in my voice. Nat shoots me an unhappy look, but I don’t care. Maybe I’m lookin’ to pick a fight with the old bastard. Maybe I’m just darin’ the guy to keep treatin’ Natalie like she’s thoughtless, because I want her to see what an asshole he is.

Chap Weston’s gaze moves over the room and fixes on me. He squints in my direction, frowning at the sight of me leaning casually on the doorframe. “Who is that?”

“That’s the man I’m working for,” Nat says vaguely. “Now, Dad—”

“Clay Price,” I call out. It’s clear he didn’t recognize me, and it’s clear that Nat’s not going to volunteer the information, so I’m going to. I want to see if he remembers who I am and how he dicked me over.

The old man’s eyes narrow. “The trashy boy? The one that tried to steal my daughter away?”

“That’s the one,” I drawl before Natalie can respond. Trashy boy. Fuck him.

“Dad,” Nat scolds. “Clay’s a billionaire now. He’s a good man and he’s not trash. He’s helping me out of the mess we’re in by hiring me.”

“He’s probably just hiring you to get under your skirts, Natalie. I know what men like him are like.” The scowl on his face isn’t that of a father as much as that of a child being robbed of his favorite toy. “You should spend time with me and not him.”

“I’m working for Clay,” Nat says again, her voice firm, and I’m fuckin’ proud of that. At least, for a moment I am, because then she continues with, “I’ll be back at your side again shortly. It’s just a temporary contract.”

Temporary, my ass. Does she not want to make a go of this thing we have? I try to keep a neutral expression on my face, but I’m gettin’ frustrated.

“I see.” Chap Weston’s tone is disapproving. “So you’d rather spend your time with trash than your ailing father.”

“That’s not it at all—”

“No,” I cut in. “That’s exactly it. She’d rather be with me.”

Everyone shoots a glare in my direction. I don’t care. I’m gettin’ annoyed that this old man’s whining and they’re all fallin’ for it.

“He’s not good for you, Natalie. Haven’t I warned you about men like him in the past?” Chap Weston shakes his head. “You’re going to have to pick between a man that’s using you and your father.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit,” I explode. “You’re the one using her!”

“Gentlemen, please,” Alice the nurse says. “Let’s not do this.”

I wait for Nat to say somethin’. To defend me to her father. But she just gets this helpless look on her face and gets to her feet. “I have to go, Dad.”

Well, at least she’s choosin’ to leave with me. I suppose that’s somethin’. Still kinda wish she’d put her dad in his place, though, and told him that she loved me.

When she gets to my side, I pull her close and whisper in her ear. “Not again, all right? He’s doin’ this to make you dance like a puppet on strings. I ain’t havin’ it.” Maybe I’m selfish, but I want Nat to myself. “Long as we’re in this contract, you’re my assistant, not his.”

She nods.

Natalie

NAT: I hated seeing that the house was almost finished, Lex. What’s wrong with me?

LEXI: You’re getting some good D and you don’t want that to change? I don’t see a problem with that.

NAT: It’s my home, but every time I go back there, I start to feel trapped. But Clay hasn’t said that he wants me to stay, either.

NAT: I asked him if he wanted me to get on the pill the other day and he said there was no need.

LEXI: Ouch. So he’s got an exit strategy. That’s gonna leave a mark.

LEXI: There’s this lady online that does Santeria if you send her some Bitcoin. We could ask her to sacrifice a chicken to give him bad luck.

NAT: Be serious. I’m hurting here.

LEXI: Okay, sorry. :(

LEXI: I’m not good with the touchy-feely shit. You need someone to wear all black and glower in the shadows, I’m your girl.

LEXI: You need someone to stand at the back of the room and mock everyone normal, I’m your girl.

LEXI: You need a shoulder to cry on and I make Santeria jokes. Sorry.

NAT: I just . . . wish I knew where I stood.

LEXI: Ask him?

NAT: And say what? Hey, you know this contract we have? I really like being with you and I’d be happy to stay even if you didn’t pay me!

LEXI: Works for me?

NAT: But that doesn’t mean I can, you know? What about my dad? What about the upkeep on the business? Everything costs money and that’s the one thing I don’t have. I don’t want Clay to think I’m staying with him because I see him as a wallet.

LEXI: If only there was some way you could tell him how you really feel . . .

LEXI: Oh wait!

LEXI: How about you—wait for it—tell him HOW YOU REALLY FEEL.

NAT: Har de har.

NAT: I think I’m terrified of what he’ll say.

NAT: Our contract is terminated at any time at his discretion, not mine.

NAT: What if I press him and he thinks I’m clingy and gold-digging and boots me out the door?

LEXI: Then . . . you have your answer?

I want to throw my phone across the room.

I hate that Lexi makes sense. She’s basically telling me to be brave. To tell Clay how I feel—that I’m in love again—even if it’s fast. Even if he isn’t. Get it all off my chest so I can be at peace with however things go between us. If it was just me? I would, I think. I’d do my best to be strong and to sit Clay down and have a serious conversation with him about where we’re going.

As it is, I don’t have any leverage in this relationship. I don’t feel like I’m the one that can make that conversation happen. I’ve got too much baggage—my father, his failing business, my past with Clay where I didn’t believe in him. Things are different now, and I’m the one with my hand out. I feel like no matter how I approach Clay with my true feelings, it’s going to seem calculating and suspicious.

If he’d just give me a hint of how he truly feels . . .

That’s the thing with Clay, though. He’s so good at hiding his feelings behind a smile. He never lets anyone see what he’s truly thinking. He can hide his emotions better than anyone. Every time I’ve fished for hints about our future, I’ve been met with zero emotion or turned away.

I feel like I should know the answer—that we don’t have a future together—and maybe I’m just being blind to it. All I need is a sign, I tell myself.

Just one sign that Clay is coming to care for me again. We have great sex and we enjoy being together. We’re friends and fantastic sex partners and . . . and I want more.

I don’t know if Clay does.

So a sign from the universe would be great about now.

* * *

Clay and I are curled up on the couch the next day, watching House Hunters. “Maybe you need a house like that,” I tell him when a couple rejects a lovely four-bedroom ranch because it doesn’t have granite countertops. “It’s not that fussy. It’s spacious, and way nicer than your trailer, but not so big that you couldn’t take care of it yourself.”

“Mmm.” That’s Clay’s answer whenever he doesn’t necessarily agree with me, but doesn’t want to contradict me. My legs are in his lap and he begins to run a finger up and down the arch of one foot, tickling me as a distraction.

“What?” I ask, giggling and trying to squirm out of his ticklish grip.

“What about my maid?”

I sputter. “You have a maid? In your trailer?”

“Well, yeah. You didn’t think I was that tidy myself, did you?”

“I did,” I protest. “I mean, who has a maid and lives in a single-wide?”

“Me.” Clay grins.

“You’d be better off with a house. And you can afford one. Even the one on TV is a huge upgrade to what you have.”

“Mmm.”

“Don’t ‘mmm’ me,” I tease. “What’s wrong with that house?”

“You heard them,” he says, nodding at the TV. “No granite countertops.”

I snort. “Dude, you live in a trailer right now. And you can’t exactly live in this hotel forever.”

“Couldn’t we?” he asks, a lazy grin on his face.

I stare at him, not sure if I need to interpret that “we” as something other than what it is. Did he misspeak? Or does he mean he’s thinking about the both of us in the future?

At that moment, my phone rings. Frustrated, I grab it and leap off of the couch, because I recognize the number—it’s Alice. Clay’s phone rings a scant second later, and he frowns at the screen before picking up the call. “What is it?”

I turn the TV off and tuck the phone against my shoulder as I answer it, trotting out into the hall to get a little privacy. I don’t want Clay overhearing the conversation about my dad, because I don’t know how it’s going to go. He gets really touchy when it comes to Dad. Ever since my visit the other day, he bristles at any mention of my father. It makes things awkward. “Hello?” I say softly. “This is Natalie.”

“Natalie? Oh good. I’m glad I caught you.” She sounds a little stressed.

“What’s up?” I shut the door to the suite behind me and pace down the hall in the hotel, barefoot.

“It’s your father. He’s having a really bad day today.” She pauses, and for a moment, I can hear soft sounds of crying.