Her eyes bulge and then she breaks out laughing. "Babe, I think you and I need to spend more time together. I never laugh as much as I do when I'm with you. What made you think he was my boyfriend?"
I shift my gaze from her to Tanner and find him watching me intently. It unnerves me and causes words to tumble out of my mouth in a haphazard fashion—something I never do. "I don't know. I think I just jumped to that conclusion, and the fact he was taking you to the awards…. it all made sense in my mind but now I feel so stupid for thinking it." My cheeks heat with the embarrassment. I try never to do this—make assumptions. It's one of my rules, but I've failed badly this time.
The elevator comes to a stop and as we exit, Tanner whistles low. "Even when you've had some drinks, you're still so serious."
His words annoy me. I've worked too hard in my life to get where I am today, and there's nothing wrong with being serious about life. "And even when I've had some drinks, you're still rude," I snap.
"I'm just saying it was an easy assumption to make, and there's no need to worry so much over it. I feel like your level of seriousness could be a health hazard to you," he replies, his tone easy and non-argumentative while I'm feeling anything but that.
Anastasia throws a warning look over her shoulder at him as she opens the door to her suite. "Tanner, don't get all preachy. We're not all as laid-back as you about things." She heads straight into the bedroom, leaving Tanner and me alone after declaring, "God, I need to get out of these heels and this dress, and get into something comfy."
"I feel like your level of laid-back could be a health hazard for you, Tanner," I shoot back, making a beeline for the couch as I enter her suite. I need to get off my feet.
Tanner surprises me when he takes a seat next to me on the couch. Throwing a smile my way, he encourages me to explain myself. "Tell me about that."
My forehead crinkles in a frown. "Tell you about what?"
He shifts so he's sitting side on with his elbow resting on the top of the couch while facing me. "Tell me why you believe being laid-back isn't good for my health. I'm interested to know because in my twenty-six years, I've never spent time stressing over shit and I feel like my life has turned out pretty good."
Sitting this close to him might be bad for my health. His scent is delicious, all man with a hint of soap, and his blue eyes sparkle with interest. The way he's looking at me makes me feel like I'm the only other person in the world—like he's got all the time in the world to listen to what I have to say.
My hand is in my lap and I rub my thumb and pointer finger together while I try to get my thoughts together. This is a nervous habit of mine that I've had since childhood and as much as I've tried to leave it behind, I can't. Some of the kids I went to school with used to pick on me for it, and I hate that it reminds me of those times.
Meeting his gaze, I say, "My father spent his whole life not worrying about anything. He didn't have a job half the time and had no plan for getting a job whenever he was unemployed. Hell, he had no plan for his future, and there were many nights where my family lived on rice, or worse, nothing. There were also many days where we had no electricity because he had no money to pay the bill. I refuse to go back to that kind of life."
He's quiet for a few moments while he thinks about what I've said. When he speaks, his voice is gentle. "Where's your father now?"
I swallow my emotions. Thinking about my father isn't something I like to do very often, and I've thought about him twice now today. "He lives in South Australia but I haven't seen him in a long time. My mother eventually left him when I was sixteen, and he moved from Dubbo to Adelaide. He didn't really keep in touch with us and as I got older, I realised I was happier without him in my life. And I don't care if that makes me sound like a heartless bitch—it's the truth."
He shakes his head. "It doesn't make you sound anything but honest. And human. Our lives can't all be wrapped up with neat little bows. Life is messy and imperfect, and we all have to choose how to get through it the best we can. There's no judgement from me, sweetheart."
I blink as my heart races in my chest. The way he gives me that acceptance is something I've never had in my life. The people in my town spent every day judging my family and even my so-called friends criticised me for my choice to cut my father from my life.
And the way he called me sweetheart.
My tummy flutters with desire.
"Thank you," I say, ignoring the way my voice cracks.
"I had the opposite childhood. My parents scheduled everything down to the last minute. They had five-, ten-, and twenty-year plans, and when goals weren't met they would go into crisis mode trying to figure out how to fix it."