The initial wave of delight was followed by an overpowering wall of shame that left Soleil grappling with a poignant mix of conflicting emotions.
What the hell is wrong with you? her inner voice chided her. Get it together!
Returning to reality, she fixed her attention back on Deveraux. Whatever weight her personal issues carried, Soleil noted that her father continued to appear blissfully ignorant to them. In fact, he wore a stupid, shit-eating grin on his face.
"What?" she asked pointedly.
"You called me daddy."
Ugh. Why did he make this so difficult?
"And you...are making me regret that, Deveraux."
She accentuated his name sharply with a dash of sass and placed her hands on her hips. When his reaction wasn't hampered by her response, she grabbed him by his shoulders attempted to spin him around and physically direct him toward some sort of progress.
"Jesus Fucking Christ. Just show me the room already," she groaned, unable to completely stifle her giggles as she pushed him back down the hallway.
Deveraux's laughter echoed through the cabin, filling the space with his amusement.
"Okay! Okay!" he chuckled as he tried to escape her grasp. "I just have one question!"
She released him and exhaled loudly and dramatically as she attempted to compose herself.
"Fine. I'm listening."
Deveraux took in a breath and, with the same amount of sass she had directed at him moments earlier was reflected in his response.
"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"
"No," she replied directly, poking his chest. "And I won't be kissing my father with it either if you keep this up."
Well, that came out weird.
He laughed, but the gears in his head seemed to grind.
She pointed down the hallway. "My room?"
He snapped out of his metaphorical blue screen of death and grinned.
"Right here!" he announced, moving a few more steps forward and taking hold of a brass door handle. "Mine has the bigger bed, of course. And it's much fluffier too."
She rolled her eyes again, a playful smirk becoming slightly more pronounced.
"Is that so?" she asked, gesturing toward the room. "Maybe I'll go in and give it a feel."
"Don't you dare fondle my bed."
"My bed," she corrected him and held up her hands while making an obscene squeezing gesture. "And I'll fondle it if I want to, sir."
He narrowed his eyes at her but opened the door anyway.
"Ta-da!"
YOU ARE READING
Reconnecting
RomanceWARNING: This story contains themes and situations that may be sensitive or emotionally challenging for some readers. A young woman searches out her father, hidden from her until her 19th birthday, leading to deep, conflicting feelings as they visit...
