The Dare (Truth or Dare Book 1)
The Dare: Chapter 31

“Come to Tiffany, honey.” She holds her arms out, and if I had the energy, I’d run to her. But I don’t, not after the long flight where a flight attendant asked Colton and me to sign her latest edition of some rag tabloid. So I shuffle across my living room, dropping the handle of my suitcase as I go, and fall onto the couch, where she wraps me up in her arms.

“I’m so sorry, Elle. So sorry.” She pats my head, motherly-like as if I’m a little girl, and though I know I should chafe at that, it feels too comforting to complain. “Where’s Colton?”

I sniffle a bit, fighting back tears even though I feel like they should be totally drained dry by now. “He went home, said he had some work to do. I could’ve gone with him, but I just needed a moment.”

“Yeah, sure. That makes sense. You two are okay though, right? I mean, you were talking serious stuff about him. This didn’t change that?” She sounds hesitant to even ask, like I’m a fragile bomb about to detonate in her hands.

I nod. “We’re fine. I love him, he loves me. I’m just embarrassed. He’s angry. His dad screwed him over on the property. The whole project is done for. Hell, I don’t even know if he’ll be able to live there if he wanted to.”

Tiffany’s mouth falls open. “Shit, that’s a messed-up family. You’d think they’d want him home. A major VP, bringing his kajillion-dollar company along for the dog and pony show.”

I bite my lip, not wanting to break Colton’s trust. “It’s not like that. I don’t want to spill his tea, but it’s . . . his family’s not like that.”

Thankfully, Tiffany doesn’t push the matter further. “You know what you need?”

“A time machine so I can go back and not get photographed getting eaten out in front of royals?”

Her laugh stings, even though I’m the one making jokes about it. “Can I say I love that you didn’t say you wanted a time machine to go back and not get eaten out, but just to not do in front of the royals? That’s good thinking there, girl. Real specific to the actual problem.”

She taps her temple and winks at me in praise. “And probably means that Colton’s tongue is just as good as his BBC. But no, I was going to say ice cream. I bought some for you when you said you were coming home.”

She gets up, letting me fall flat on the couch when she’s no longer supporting my leaning position. Sophie takes advantage, jumping onto my chest and bumping me with her tiny pink nose. I scratch behind her ears, burying my face into her fur.

Tiffany reappears with a pint of ice cream and two spoons. “No! Don’t do that to her!”

I snort and do it again to be bitchy. “She’s my fur-baby. Get your own.”

Okay, so maybe I’m still a bit salty about how much I missed Sophie while she was loving on Tiffany as though I never existed.

Tiffany laughs. “No, I’m not being stingy with her. That damned monster got into my bag and found my shimmer powder. She somehow dumped it on the floor and then rolled around in it like a pig in mud. I had to vacuum it up and give her a bath, but she’s still pretty . . . uh, shiny.”

Tiffany points at my face with one of the spoons.

“Do I have it all over me?” Her grin is a definite yes. “You gave my cat a bath? How badly did she hate that?”

Tiffany tilts her head. “Surprisingly, not so much. At first, she was a demon, clawing and hissing. But once I got her submerged and waterboarded a little, she was fine and dandy. She tried swimming around in the tub, and I think by the end, she thought it was like a kitty spa.”

I try to imagine that, but can’t. I also don’t care enough about shimmer powder on my face to actually wipe it off. But I definitely grab a spoon and commandeer the pint of ice cream for myself.

I pull the lid off and slide my spoon across the top layer where it’s a little melty. That’s the best part, and Tiff’s letting me have it without a word. Goes to show how bad she thinks all this is too.

Mouth full, I tell her, “I don’t want to talk about me anymore. What’s going on with you? At the office? With Ace? Distract me.”

Her wry brow says, ‘Are you not entertained?’ but she does catch me up on what’s been going on at work, which is mostly the same things that were going on before I left. Ricky is flirting with Miranda on the daily now, but they haven’t had an official date. The phone rings, copies get made, and there’s been plenty of chatter about the HQ2 sites.

“I don’t want to jinx it, but I think Ace might’ve turned a corner too. After you left, I didn’t even go home for several days. I just couldn’t, you know? Though I know that sounds bad.”

She shakes her head sadly and I give her the pint. She needs it more than me right now, but only for a minute. Because sex in front of royals trumps asshole brothers.

“It was a bomb, Elle. Trash everywhere, a sinkful of dishes, a dent in the sofa where he sits, Kevin going stir-crazy, and I don’t think he’d even flushed the toilet. He wasn’t expecting me, so thank God for small favors, I didn’t catch him jacking off or anything like that.”

Her whole body shudders. “No showers either, for days. My apartment smelled like teenage boy, homeless guy, and dog shit. I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t disgusting. There was no hiding it, not that I felt the need to, but it was really bad. I think he was embarrassed. I don’t know what made it different that day, maybe just how bad it was? But he seemed like he was looking around, seeing his situation with fresh eyes.”

“What happened?” I hate to hear about Ace having such a hard time, but I am thankful that my problems are at least superficial. I mean, who really cares about consenting adults going a bit too far in public when there are real people with real problems? Okay, so the kid seeing it is a serious complicating factor that icks me out majorly, but hopefully, she has no idea what she saw.

“Nothing at first. I got the things I went by for and just left. But he called me yesterday, before all the stuff happened with you and Colton. He asked me to come by, actually invited me over to my own apartment, which I thought was pretty hilarious.”

The resting bitch face says she didn’t laugh a bit. “But I went. And he’d cleaned. Just a little, but there was room for him to sit on the couch—he flipped the cushions around so there wasn’t a dent—and the armchair didn’t have a single dirty shirt on it. And he apologized, said he’s getting help.”

“What kind of help?” I take the ice cream back and shovel a big bite into my mouth because I know she’s going to take it again.

And yep, she reaches for it and licks around the rim where the drips are threatening to spill over. “Therapy, I think. He said his girl fucked him up good. Apparently, she was pregnant and told Ace it was his. He had this whole dream life planned out, with them getting married and having the baby. He was saving up for them, just really happy to be a husband and a dad. She had the baby, playing the odds right up until the end, but when the little boy was born, he knew it wasn’t his kid.”

“Oh, shit!” Sadness at Ace’s loss, not exactly of his child but of his dream, weighs me down. “Poor Ace.”

“He even told her he’d stay, raise the baby as his own, and marry her. She said no, that the other guy said he would marry her if he turned out to be the dad. Ace left her and what he thought was going to be his kid at the hospital and came to my place. That’s what’s been eating at him. But he’s getting sorted out, taking care of Kevin and cleaning up after himself. Therapy, I guess, and he mentioned that he wants to replace a new job here, and an apartment too.”

“Wow, good for him. I can’t imagine how you pick up the pieces and go on after that, but I guess it makes sense why he’s been so scattered. Tell him to let me know if I can do anything to help.”

“Will do. I think he’s gonna be okay, though. It’ll take some time, but he’ll get there. Even if I have to force him.”

We eat in silence for a few minutes, staring mindlessly at whatever’s on the television. I couldn’t tell you what it is since I’m not really paying it any attention.

“Have you talked to Daddy since the news broke?”

I’m too tired to even bother with correcting her, but I hold up my middle finger.

“Really, go over and talk to him. He deserves that, at least. Otherwise, he’s going to replace out in line at the grocery store when he sees his little girl getting some. Want me to go with you? I can act as a buffer. He can cry on my shoulder about where he went wrong with you and I’ll tell him that we both did our best to keep you from making bad choices, but some kids just can’t be stopped.” She tsks, shaking her head sadly.

“No. I do need to go, but you’re staying here. Far away from Dad.”

“Fine.” She pouts, crossing her arms, but then she reaches for the ice cream. “But you’re not getting my Ben & Jerry’s then.”

“Tell me one thing first, baby girl. Did that asshole take advantage of you in any way? Of course he did. He’s your boss.” He answers his own question, not giving me a moment to answer.

“Dad, dad. Listen to me, please.” My plea seems to get through to him because he quits ranting about the ‘British bastard’ and focuses.

“He didn’t take advantage of me. We got carried away, which wouldn’t have been a big deal if not for the whole royalty thing, but . . . I love him, and he loves me. And we want to be together, even after all this.”

I’m holding my breath, my chest stretched to capacity with hopes, prayers, and too much carbon dioxide buildup. But I don’t dare breathe. Not until I hear what Dad has to say.

“You love him? He loves you? What does this have to do with HQ2?” Dad looks so confused and runs his hands through his hair, messing up his perfectly slicked hair.

He got a haircut while I was gone, I think idly. It’s longer on top and shaved underneath, trendy and fashion-forward. And I wonder who I can set him up with again. Maybe it’s the daughter in me who just wants to see her dad happy, or maybe it’s the woman in love who wants everyone to feel this joy, but Dad deserves someone. No names come to mind right now, though, unfortunately.

“Nothing. We just fell in love despite our rocky start.”

Oops, didn’t mean to say that. I bite my lip, hoping Dad doesn’t ask questions, but he seems to think I was referring to Colton leveraging me as a pawn on the project. “Definitely hard to overcome telling someone flat-out that you’re using them. I hope you made him work to prove it?” Dad’s eyes narrow as he pins me in his gaze, looking mean, but I know it’s a front. Mostly.

“I did. Made him play putt-putt on our first date—the gross, old-school kind.”

Dad’s eyes go wide. “Putt-putt? Colton Wolfe?” He laughs, slapping at his thigh. “Well, I’d have liked to see that, I think.”

“And he made me bungee jump. It was terrifying, but so cool. I have the video from that, if you want to see?”

I’m excited by how easily Dad’s taking this. I thought he would lock me away in his spare room and throw away the key, just letting me out for exercise in the yard like a dog. Or a prisoner.

But he’s talking like this is almost totally fine.

Until he cringes. “Think I’ll pass on videos and pictures for a while, actually, baby girl. I’ve seen more than I want to.”

And now it’s my turn to cringe. Talking about sex with my dad is probably on the short list of conversations I never want to have. Ever.

“I’m sorry about that, Dad. I know it’s embarrassing.”

He hugs me to him. “Elle, we have been through so much, the two of us against the world, but you’re growing up and I know that. We talked about your period when it was time for that, we talked about how to say no and be safe, we talked about experimenting in college, we talked about hopes and dreams. There is nothing I wouldn’t talk about with you if you needed to. But remember, you have Tiffany too, and she’s probably a better person for you to talk about your . . . uhm, sex life with at this point.”

He whispers sex life like it’s a dirty word, which makes me laugh. But he’s right. Even as a dad, he never shied away from anything, especially not like my friends who had moms to go to about that stuff. Dad was on the ball, always.

He had a basket of pads and tampons in the bathroom for me well before I started, and yep, he taught me how to use them. I don’t know how he knew, and I was too red-faced and dumbstruck to ask at the time, but he learned so he could teach me. Same when he bought me condoms along with a mini fridge for college. He never questioned it, just sent a fresh box with every care package. Real-life practicality went hand in hand with the bigger life lessons with him.

He’s the absolute best. And I’m still not ready to discuss my boyfriend eating me out. Just a hard no on that conversational front, always will be.

“Oh, by the way . . . that lesson on saying no and being safe?”

Dad’s brow raises. “I thought you said Colton didn’t take advantage? Do I need to have Billy and Ricky have a talk with him? They’d definitely be onboard for that.” Dad punches the air a little like he’s shadowboxing.

I chuckle, knowing he would if I gave the slightest indication that Colton had overstepped. “No, not that. I met Colton’s sister in London. Her name’s Lizzie, and she was having a particular problem with a neighbor boy. I taught her the same skills you taught me. Worked like a charm.”

I grin proudly, both of myself for sharing the lesson and of Lizzie for being the brave badass to actually do it.

Dad beams, proud of himself too. “Well, you tell Lizzie that if she has any more problems, I’m sure Billy and Ricky would love a trip oversees to handle some business.”

“Sure thing, Dad. Will do.”