Chapter 4

"I'm Dylan, by the way."

I hesitated, forcing the smile to stay on my face. We'd had full-on sex. I'd lost my virginity to the guy. And we hadn't even officially met each other yet.

Delaney. It was a unique enough name that it could easily set off alarm bells in his head. I was his buddy's daughter. No doubt Dad had talked about me enough over the years that my name might have stuck.

"Laney," I said, sticking out my hand for a handshake. Laney was short enough and common enough to hopefully fool him.

He stared at my hand for several long seconds, his expression turning to amusement. "It's a little weird to shake hands now, isn't it?"

His much larger hand engulfed mine, but he didn't shake. Instead, he tugged me toward him for a long kiss.

"Get a room!" someone yelled a good twenty seconds into the kiss.

We broke apart, laughing. Yes, we were standing in a very public parking lot.

"Let's go grab some tacos," Dylan said.

Hand in hand, we walk toward the building. The restaurant was packed, but that wasn't surprising for a Friday night. I tried not to look around, as though not making eye contact with anyone would keep me from being recognized.

I'd just landed in Rosewood Ridge two days ago, and Dad reintroduced me to a few people we ran into around town. One of them commented she wouldn't have recognized me, I was so grown up now. But if they saw me here, those few people would know exactly who my dad was. Then they'd probably tell my dad, who'd have something to say about me standing in a Mexican restaurant on a Friday night with a man closer to his age than mine.

We managed to make it to a booth near the window without anyone calling out to either of us. Maybe that meant we weren't recognized. Oh, who was I kidding? Eventually, the truth would come out.

I might as well tell him now.

As we sat, a basket of chips and two menus in front of us, I stared at Dylan across the table. His attention was fully on the menu. I should just blurt it out. Nate Donnelly was my father. No, easing into it would be better.

"I have something to tell you," I said before I could lose my nerve.

His head shot up, a slight hint of a smile on his face. He was happy. Was I about to destroy his happiness? What if he got up and stormed out?

"I didn't know I'd be attracted to you when I walked into your business tonight," I began, wiping my palms on my shorts.

Trying to summon some more courage, I stared out the window. Dylan parked at the end of a row of motorbikes, but there was something about one in the center of the row that caught my eye.

"I knew there was an age difference." I returned my attention to his face. "Normally, it wouldn't be a big deal, but?—"

"May I take your order?"

A man was standing at the end of our table, notepad in hand, sombrero on his head. He looked like he hadn't a care in the world, while my internal organs seemed to be twisting and turning. I stared down at the menu, trying to quickly put together an order.

But suddenly, an image flashed in front of my eyes. That motorcycle parked in the center of the row outside. I knew that motorcycle. It sat in my dad's driveway. I'd parked behind it for two days. It was a distinctive electric blue color with silver stripes.

I gulped around the lump that had formed in my throat as I turned back to the server. Someone had appeared behind him, and that someone was tall. Much taller than the server. Bulkier, too. In fact, he towered over the server like a wrestler about to take on his opponent.

"Delaney?" my father's voice said. "What the hell's going on here?"

The server seemed to wisely realize shit was about to go down. He backed away from the table and said, "I'll give you more time."

And then it was just my father standing at the end of the table. He looked from his friend to his daughter like he couldn't believe his own eyes.

"Hi, Dad," I said.

May as well get it out in the open. But I felt Dylan's stunned gaze shift to my face.

"Exactly what's going on here?" my father asked.

When I looked back at him, my dad had shifted his harsh stare to Dylan, who was clearly confused. "This is your daughter?" he asked.

"Delaney," Dad said. "Don't tell me you didn't know she's my daughter. Her pictures are all over my cabin. You've met her."

Dylan's eyes narrowed, and I could see things clicking into place. "You're Delaney?" he asked. "The fourteen-year-old girl with pigtails?"

I never wore pigtails, but I did have braces the last time he saw me. Not to mention a baby face and long, stringy hair that I'd eventually learned to tame.

"I was just about to tell you," I said.

Now Dylan's stare was incredulous. "You mean to tell me you knew all along I was your dad's friend?"

"Yes, but…" I hesitated. What was the best way to describe this in front of my dad? "I just wanted a tattoo."

"Tattoo?" Dad asked.

Uh-oh. Although my dad had always been more lenient than my mom, he'd made it clear he didn't want me to get a tattoo. Funny, considering he had a tattoo on his left upper arm. But he loved to say it was a lifelong commitment to a design you chose when you were "young and dumb."

"Yes," I said, sitting up a little straighter. "I got a tattoo."

Please don't ask where. Please don't ask where. Please don't?—

"Where?" Dad crossed his arms over his chest and waited for an answer.

"In the chair in the booth at my parlor," Dylan said.

I met his gaze then, and I felt it. He had my back. My dad always had my back too, but that would shift once I found a life partner—a man I could marry and have a family of my own with.

I wanted that man to be the one seated across from me.

That thought hit me like a bullet. I actually blinked in surprise at it. This was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with? How was it possible, in such a short time, that I'd fallen hard for this guy?

But it made total sense, the more I thought about it. Everything about him, from the way he talked, the way he kissed me, and the way he looked at me, was just…perfect.

But it wasn't just physical. I'd gotten to know him in the couple of hours since walking into his business. We had a rapport. I felt a connection. Somehow, I just knew I could take a twelve-hour road trip with him and never run out of conversation.

"Nate, you ready, man?" a guy's voice rang out around us.

At the sound of his name being called out, my dad turned, and I took the opportunity to say quietly enough so that only Dylan could hear, "I promise I wanted nothing but a tattoo. The rest just happened."

Dad turned back to face us, and I sat back in my seat. I just hoped he hadn't heard what I'd said.

"We'll talk about this when you get home," Dad told me.

He didn't even glance at Dylan before turning and following a group of guys out of the restaurant. It was Biker Blast weekend. He'd headed out earlier today and stayed gone all day, which was part of what prompted me to head to the tattoo parlor. I could do it without him even knowing I was gone.

"So what's going on exactly?" Dylan asked once my dad was out of earshot.

I took a deep breath. This was important. I couldn't screw this one up.

"I know who you are," I said. "I didn't remember that much about you, really. Just that you run a tattoo shop. It's been almost ten years since I visited this town, and I was just a kid."

"You had braces," he said. "And you always had earbuds in."

"People thought I was listening to music, but most of the time it was books." I smiled at the memories. "I mostly stayed to myself."

"Your dad isn't the one who sent you to the college with all the rules," Dylan said.

"No, that was my mom. Dad's strict, don't get me wrong, but mostly in a protective sort of way. It's one of the reasons I took a job here. I need to get away from all that. My plan is to save up enough to get my own place here in Rosewood Ridge."

He took a deep breath and looked out the window. I, meanwhile, was holding my breath, scared to even move a muscle as I waited for what he'd say next.

"You're my friend's daughter," he finally said without looking at me. "I knew you were young, but now you seem even younger."

"My dad had me when he was only seventeen," I said. "He got my mom pregnant in high school."

That got his attention. "Your mom got pregnant at seventeen?"

"Sixteen," I said. "They didn't stay together long after I was born, but my dad paid child support and tried to see me as much as possible. He's just not?—"

"He's full of shit."

Dylan's comment startled me. As I stared at him, though, I saw that he meant the words as part of a compliment.

"He says he couldn't do the marriage and kids thing full-time, but he's such a great father," Dylan said. "I can see it in the way he talks about you. He's one proud papa."

The words went straight to my heart. My father had told me he was proud of me many times—most recently on graduation day. But hearing one of his friends say it meant so much.

But the last thing I needed was for him to think of me as Nate Donnelly's daughter. I wasn't a little girl anymore. I was a woman. I'd more than demonstrated that earlier tonight.

"My dad can't tell me who to date," I said. "He won't. Even if I have to find somewhere else to live."

Again, I found myself holding my breath, waiting for his response. What if he revealed he couldn't see me as anything but Nate's daughter? What if he left me with no hope whatsoever?

"You know what?" Dylan asked, his gaze flitting toward the window before returning to my face. "Fuck it. Nobody's telling me who to date, either."

I couldn't stop the smile that spread over my face at those words. I'd never felt more relieved about anything. Not in my entire life.

"So you don't mind making my dad mad?" I asked.

My dad was a big teddy bear, but he'd also take on a grizzly bear if it threatened his daughter. That's how protective he was of me. I was pretty sure Dylan knew that, being his friend and all.

"I'm not afraid of Nate or anything." Dylan laughed. "But I do want your father's blessing if I'm going to marry you someday."

Had he just used the "m" word? It was a little early to be talking about that, but I wouldn't complain. Suddenly, I couldn't imagine going a day of my life without having this man in it.

"He'll get used to it," I said. "Besides, if he's friends with you, he must know you're a great guy. That's really all he wants. A guy who'll look out for me."

"Well, you're with the right guy, then," he said. "Now, the server's coming back any second. I'm going to steal a kiss before he shows up."

I wasn't just smiling. I was beaming. I leaned forward and met him halfway across the table, not caring who saw us. I was going to kiss my man, and I was going to kiss him whenever and wherever I wanted.