Billionaire Daddy - A Standalone Novel (A Single Dad Billionaire Romance Love Story) (Billionaires - Book #6) by Claire Adams

Author:Claire Adams [Adams, Claire]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2017-05-15T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Clarity

The shuffle of the Sunday newspaper was always relaxing. My father and I spent Sunday mornings at the wide kitchen table in front of the French doors. Morning light poured in and caught the swirls of steam rising from our coffee mugs.

I loved the quiet routine. Except my eyes wouldn't focus on any words, and I burned my lips on my coffee. My mind kept wandering back over the moonlit campus walk with Ford. As soon as we stepped out of the frat house party, my father had jogged up with a breathless frown.

"A group of streakers is causing havoc outside the gym complex, and I have to go deal with it."

"There's a great article in there somewhere," Ford nudged me.

"Professor Bauer will see you home safe, won't you?" My father had waved as security swung by in a truck to pick him up.

Neither of us had said a word until the full moon climbed up and over the corner towers of the library.

Ford sighed. "I do actually like it here. I know you think I should be off chasing big stories and being a hard-hitting journalist, but it's peaceful here. Beautiful."

Our hands had brushed at that moment, and the memory alone caused a thrill to rush up my arm. I had to be a silly, delusional girl to think that last, whispered 'beautiful' was for me, but I couldn't help it. We were impossible, never going to happen, but at least I could hope he felt the same way I did.

My growing attraction to Ford was a problem. It was fine when it was just a crush on an attractive professor, but now it was pluming out like smoke and hanging like a deep haze on the majority of my thoughts.

"Clarity? Your toast popped up," my father repeated. He folded down one corner of his newspaper and checked on me. "Everything alright?"

I looked around the sunny kitchen and took a deep breath. Most of my friends made fun of me for living at home until they saw our house. The Craftsman was big, comfortable, and full of light. The original hardwood floors and crown moldings gave it a sense of maturity, while my father's tendency towards bright colors kept it lively and fun.

"You know it's alright if you want to go out with your friends on Sundays," my father said. He poured himself another cup of coffee from the French Press on the table.

"I know, thanks." I gestured around the warm kitchen. " But why would I want to leave all this?"

My father snorted. "This isn't for everyone. Too boring. What's the word? Stodgy."

He was talking about my mother, and I felt a twinge in my chest. She had left when I was too young to remember her in the kitchen on a Sunday morning, but the way my father talked about her, she may never have sat there for more than five minutes. When he talked about her, my mother was always in motion. Always going somewhere, traveling, and very rarely returning.

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