"If you mean do they bother me every minute of the day, the answer is yes." He gives me a look I've come to associate with Chap Weston, the actor (and not Chap Weston my dad). "But they're all very pretty and they love my stories."
"I hope you're not harassing the nurses, Dad."
"I just like looking. I can look, can't I?"
I smile. "You can."
"But the nurses aren't the same as having you here." He squeezes my hand and gives me a sad look. "It's not the same as having my daughter around. You should tell your boss that you need time to be with your father."
"It's just a temporary job," I tell him, my heart squeezing painfully. It might be temporary but that doesn't mean I want it to be.
"Yes, but I'm old, Natalie. Who knows how much longer I'm going to be around? Shouldn't we be spending that time together? Instead of you just casting me off to some nurses?"
And there's the guilt trip. Combined with the sad gaze he's sending in my direction, it works. I feel so guilty. I should be spending more time with him, and he is right, he won't be around forever. But spending time with Clay is so nice and it makes me feel so free and happy . . .
I bite back my sigh. "I'll see what I can do."
My mood's ruined by the time I leave. Even though my dad's in a chatty mood and he stays in the present the entire time, he likes to lay the guilt on thick, over and over again, until I'm about ready to scream in frustration. It doesn't help that I already feel guilty, too. He's not subtle. He doesn't have to be-everything he says is the truth and confirms my own guilty thoughts. Should I be staying away so much and entrusting strangers-albeit well-trained, competent strangers-to take care of my dad? They don't know him like I do. They'll never care for him as much as a daughter would.
And to make matters worse, he thinks I'm away because I'm being someone's assistant.
I didn't have the heart to tell him that there's not much assisting going on. That it's all a ruse so Clay could get my attention.
I also haven't told Dad that my new boss is Clay Price. He'd really lose it at that point.
The weight of all the secrets and my guilt weighs heavy on me during the car ride back to the hotel. I need a sign from the universe. Something that will tell me that I'm on the right path, and that I'm doing the right thing by being with Clay.
Unfortunately, the universe doesn't give me any signs. What it does give me are two car wrecks that I pass by on the interstate.
I hope those aren't my "sign." I pretend they're not.
When I get back to the room, Clay's still not back yet. He won't be for a few more hours. But while he's been gone, he had the hotel staff deliver a dozen roses and put a box of chocolates on the end of the bed, along with a little note for me.
Nat,
Miss you already. Home soon.
CP
Of course, that just makes me feel worse. He's so thoughtful. And it's only a day trip-to think that he did all this just so I'd feel special while he's gone for a few hours. I sniffle as I pick up the box of chocolates and then crawl into bed, feeling like the worst daughter-and worst assistant-ever. Eating the whole box of them doesn't help, either. It just makes me feel worse, because now I'm sick to my stomach as well as feeling guilty. I change into my pajamas and lie in the bed, moping and worrying over what to do.
Clay gets home a short time later, and I click off the reality TV show I'm watching as the door opens. He bounds into the room, as if he can't stand being without me for another moment, eyes gleaming. He doesn't pause at the edge of the bed but just flings himself into it next to me, fully dressed, work boots and all.
I give a little squeal as a cloud of dust comes up from his clothes. "Clay! You're filthy!"
"Mmm, yes I am." He pulls me down under him and begins to nibble on my neck. "I thought so many filthy things about you today. I'm surprised your ears weren't burnin', babe."
I sputter at the amount of loose dirt that comes off his clothing. "Did you get caught in a sandstorm?"
"Naw. It's just windy and flat out there. Visited the new rig site and then went 'n' said hello to Seth. He wasn't none too pleased about bein' back on the job, but Boone n' Gage were givin' him hell about skippin' out on work, so he went back out. Knox and I showed up to jaw with him a little." He nips at my neck. "You don't like a big, smelly redneck as your man, baby?"
I do, actually. The problem is that I like it far too much. I want to make a sassy retort, but I think of my father's disapproving face and tears come to my eyes.
"Nat?" Clay lifts his head and looks at me, worried. "What's wrong?"
I sniff and try to fight back tears, because I don't want to tell him. "Nothing."
His eyes darken. "What did your father say to you?"
"Am I that obvious?"
He sits up, shaking his head. As he does, he grabs the front of my pajama top and begins to slowly unbutton it. "I just think that all week, every time we've been apart, you smiled when you saw me. Now today, you visit your dad, and when I see you, you're about ready to cry. So it don't take a genius to figure out that he's the cause."
"What are you doing?" I ask as he continues to unbutton my clothes.
"Gettin' you undressed for our shower. Don't change the subject. What'd he say to you?"
He's too good at interpreting me. I bite back my sigh and let him continue unbuttoning my shirt. "He doesn't like the nurses being there as much as he likes his daughter waiting on him."
Clay snorts. He finishes unbuttoning my top and pushes it to the sides, exposing my breasts and stomach. He gazes down at them with pure pleasure on his face, then glances back up at me. "Continue."
"He says that since I'm his daughter and he doesn't have much time left in this world, I should be spending my time with him." I make a little squeal of protest as Clay buries his face between my breasts. He's growing his beard out again-at my suggestion-and right now the stubble is raspy and hard. "I thought we were going to shower!"
"We are. Eventually." He kisses the tip of one breast. "But I plan on fuckin' you in the shower and I don't wanna be talking about your dad at that point." One hand cups my breast and he rubs his thumb over the tip. "‘Sides, these distract me."
I shift under his touch, thrusting my breast into his hand. "Then we don't talk about my dad anymore. It's just a guilt trip. I just hate that it works so well. He's right, you know-"
"What, that he's old? Well, yeah. But that don't mean you gotta give your life up for him. The only reason he's bringin' this shit up is because he's just tryin' whatever it'll take to bring you back to his side and make you take up nursin' him again. Am I wrong?"
I think for a moment, and then shake my head. I know he's not. In my heart, I know he's right.
"I get reports from the nurses, too, you know." He lazily licks a trail between my breasts.
"You do?" I'm so surprised I sit up on my elbows and nearly knock him backward.
"I do," he says, putting a finger on my shoulder and lowering me back to the bed. "You wanna know what they tell me?" At my nod, he continues. "He's manipulative. He's good-natured and sweet if it gets him what he wants. If it doesn't, he pitches a fit. He uses guilt. And he's a great actor."
All of this sounds terribly unflattering and almost mean. "He's old, and he's sick-"
"He is. Don't mean he's not a bastard. The girls like him well enough. But they also deal with enough patients just like him to see through the bullshit. Your dad's healthier than he lets on. He just likes you takin' care of him."
"But-"
"I ain't makin' light of the fact that he's got dementia. But he's got more good days than bad. Alice says it's good that he's around different people. Stimulates the mind. He just prefers a situation-and people-he can control. That's why he wants you back."
I'm a little hurt by Clay's statement. "I'm also his daughter and he loves me."
"He does, I'm sure." Clay cups my other breast and lowers his mouth to it. "But I'm also sure he's usin' you, and now that you've got a bit of freedom, he's poutin." He gives it a distracting lick. "He's just tryin' to pull us apart again."
I don't know if that's true, because he doesn't know Clay's involved. But I do think he's right about a lot of it. My dad can be a user, and he can turn on the acting charm to get what he wants. It shouldn't surprise me that he can just as easily turn on the guilt trip. "All right. No more about my father."
"Amen." He nips at my nipple, sending a shiver through my body. "Now to get you naked and in the shower."
I lift my hips and shimmy out of my pajama bottoms. "You have a one-track mind."