One Night of Trouble

As for her father, she might not have inherited his huge frame or tangle of red hair, but she’d definitely gotten her wild streak from him. She’d heard countless stories over the years about all the trouble he’d caused in the neighborhood growing up, thanks to his act-first-and-think-later nature. Once he’d married and had kids, he’d stopped solving problems with his fists, but he could still drink any of his sons under the table, and his boisterous personality charmed every person who sat in his tattoo chair.

Brett adored her father, but he could be so damn obstinate sometimes. It was probably due to his Irish blood, but man, his stubbornness was infuriating. He still viewed her as his little “princess,” acted like she couldn’t even brush her own teeth without his help. Granted, her past behavior had contributed to his inability to see her as a grown-up, but she wished he could at least acknowledge she was trying to change.

“Anyway, Rob told me you have a new boyfriend.”

Brett’s head swiveled in the direction of Rob’s curtained-off station. Seriously? Already? She’d been working with her brother all day, and she certainly hadn’t seen or heard him talking to their dad. Clearly he’d found a way to sneak in a phone call without her knowledge.

And people accused women of being gossips.

“Yeah, kind of,” Brett answered, keeping her tone vague. “It’s still very new.”

“Well, I don’t need to meet the guy to know I approve.” Her father looked beyond thrilled. “The Ten Grand Touchdown! Fuckin’-A! I can’t believe he’s coming to the house tomorrow. I’m making steak and garlic shrimp in his honor.”

His enthusiasm would have made her laugh if she didn’t feel so damn guilty. She hated deceiving her father, even more than she hated disappointing him.

She’d always been nothing but honest with her family, though her open-book mentality was probably one of the reasons she was forever on their shit lists. If she’d been a better—or more willing—liar, she wouldn’t be in the boat she was currently in. Her family would be blissfully ignorant to all the immature things she’d done in the past. Her brothers wouldn’t be on her case all the time.

Her father wouldn’t have had to bail her out of jail last year…

The incident brought a clench of shame, along with a rush of anger, because she truly hadn’t done anything wrong that night. Troy was the one who’d gotten plastered and picked a fight at the bar. Brett hadn’t consumed a drop of alcohol, but when the brawl had escalated, the cops had carted her off with Troy and tossed her in the drunk tank right along with him.

God, the disapproving stare she’d received from her dad when he’d picked her up that night was still burned in her brain like a cattle brand. And she still remembered the sting of tears when he’d proceeded to blame himself for not “raising her right.”

But he was so fucking wrong. After Brett’s mother had died of cancer when Brett was seven, Jimmy Conlon had stepped up to the plate to raise their children. Dealing with the boys had been easy, but Brett knew he’d had a tough time relating to his only daughter. Her father was a man’s man to the core, yet he’d done everything in his power to shower Brett with the love and attention she’d craved. And all those girlie-girl activities she’d demanded they do together? God. He’d indulged her every whim, just so she wouldn’t miss out on what the other girls her age were doing.

“Aw, what’s this about?”

She jerked when she felt her dad’s finger on her face. He gently brushed away the sheen of tears she hadn’t even realized were there.

“Why are you crying, princess?” His brown eyes narrowed. “Did your new man do something to hurt you? Because if he did, I will break every bone in his body and—”

“No, of course not,” she assured him, swallowing the lump of emotion obstructing her windpipe. “I was just thinking about all that girly stuff you used to do with me when I was a kid. You know, the tea parties, and playing dress up, and…” Her throat closed up again.

“Don’t forget the Barbies,” he said gruffly. “I sure haven’t.”

“You were such a good dad.” She blinked away her tears. “You still are, you know.”

Embarrassment colored his cheeks. “Where’s this coming from, princess?”

“I don’t know. The memories just popped into my head.” She wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt, then shot a discreet look at the computer screen. Eight twenty-five. Damn.

“Got somewhere else to be?” her dad teased.

She was the one blushing now. “Kinda. I’m meeting AJ soon. He owns a nightclub downtown and I promised I’d stop by to visit him.”

“Wide receiver and business owner? Shi-it. I like him even more now.”

“Just a business owner. His football days are behind him,” she said, then peeked at the clock again.

Her father chuckled. “Oh, get out of here already. You’ve got one foot out the door as it is.”

Brett answered in her most professional voice. “We don’t close until nine, Dad. The job is my first priority.”

“We won’t go bankrupt if you cut out twenty minutes early. Besides, you’ve already been here ten hours.” He ruffled her hair. “Go. I’ll close up with your brother.”

“Are you sure?” She didn’t want to give him another reason to find fault in her, but he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.