Tara Sivec - Shame on Him

“Of course we’re proud of her. We just want to make sure she’s making smart choices in her life. The way she’s dressing and her careless attitude at work worries us that she’s being influenced,” my father replies, looking pointedly at Dallas and his tattoos.

Dallas stares him down and my father actually has the intelligence to look away. Unfortunately, my mother decides it’s time to rejoin the conversation.

“Have you spoken to Doug lately? How is he?”

I shouldn’t be shocked that she’s bringing Doug up. She does it every time we speak. But doing it in front of Dallas is a new low even for her. It’s not every day I bring a man to dinner. Obviously they must suspect we’re dating, even if it’s the furthest thing from the truth. In her mind, there’s nothing wrong with speaking of her daughter’s ex right in front of another man. And now Dallas gets to add one more thing to his long list of inadequacies about me.

“He’s fine, Mother. How are the plans coming along for the Make-A-Wish event next month?” I ask, hoping that she’ll get the hint and change the subject.

She doesn’t. “I just don’t understand why the two of you couldn’t work things out. You were so happy and you had a wonderful life together. Your father and I have had our differences, but we’ve always managed to work them out.”

She looks at me. Like it’s my fault because I didn’t try hard enough. I’ve heard this same speech so many times I could recite it by heart.

“How exactly would you suggest I work out the tiny little problem of him being gay? Marriage counseling? An intervention?”

Dallas snorts and at first, I assume he’s laughing at me. When I look over at him, though, he’s giving me a look of encouragement.

“There’s no need for sarcasm, Lorelei,” my father scolds. “You just didn’t spend enough time taking care of him. A wife should always put her husband first.”

Dallas can see the wounded look come across my face and once again, he tries to come to my rescue.

“If you ask me, this Doug person is the one who screwed up. Any man would be lucky to have Lorelei as his wife.”

I swallow the lump in my throat as I stare at him across the table. He winks at me and smiles.

My father, of course, can’t leave it alone. He has to add his two cents. “Well, we didn’t ask you, young man. Someone such as you wouldn’t understand the importance of a person’s standing in the community. Lorelei has a reputation to uphold and we just want to be certain she remembers that. Doug was a good catch. He had a respectable job with the clerk of courts and would have never thought that coming to dinner in jeans and a T-shirt was appropriate.”

I’ve officially had enough.

Throwing my napkin down on the table, I stand abruptly, my chair scraping across the hardwood floor of the dining room. It’s one thing when they insult me, but I won’t allow them to look down on Dallas. They don’t even know him. It strikes me that I really don’t know him either, but that’s beside the point. He tried to stick up for me and now it’s my turn.

“Lorelei, sit down. We aren’t finished with dinner,” my father says in exasperation.

“Well, I’m finished. I’ve lost my appetite.”

I see Dallas staring at me. His eyes are soft and encouraging. I can practically feel his strength floating across the table and wrapping itself around me.

I glare at my father. “I’m not a good enough lawyer because I don’t work as hard as you’d like and I wasn’t a good wife because I worked too much. It’s never enough for you. And believe me, it’s impossible to forget all the responsibilities you’ve strapped me with. You remind me every single day that I’m not living up to your expectations. I come here tonight wearing something other than a perfectly pressed suit and you immediately assume I’ve gone to the dark side. You can berate me all you want, but don’t you dare look down on him,” I fire back, pointing at Dallas. “You think he’s a negative influence? Why? Because he doesn’t fit in your perfect mold and he has tattoos? Well guess what? I have a fucking tattoo and I HATE being a Goddamn lawyer.”

My mother gasps, but I ignore her. I’m on a roll.

“I’ve missed all those meetings with Steve because I’m part owner of a private investigation company and I love it. I don’t want to spend my days in three-piece suits, kissing everyone’s ass just so I can get ahead. First thing Monday morning I’m walking into Steve’s office and telling him he can shove his partnership right up his fucking ass.”

And with that, I storm out, making sure to let the door slam behind me because I know my father hates it.

Pacing back and forth in the driveway, I can hardly believe what just happened. Did I really tell my father off? Too bad Kennedy wasn’t here to see it. I feel like she would be extremely proud.

I hear the door open behind me and figure it’s my mother coming outside to tell me how appalling my behavior was. When I see Dallas charging down the steps toward me, my heart starts thumping wildly in my chest. I’m sure he’s coming out here to make fun of me and my terrible family.

“Look, I’m not really in the mood for you to—”

My words are cut off as he grabs my face with his hands and crushes his lips to mine. Dallas Osborne is a force of nature. He’s hard around the edges, crass, and full of attitude. His kiss matches his personality: It’s rough and all consuming.

It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt.

His tongue immediately pushes past my lips and he backs me up against the hood of my car. I moan into his mouth and grab fistfuls of his hair in my hands, holding him close and letting him plunge his tongue deeper. He keeps one hand on my face and slides the other down the side of my body, cupping my ass in his hand and pulling me against him.

I’ve been kissed by plenty of men in my life. They were all the same or variations of the same—polite, soft kisses that left me wanting more. Dallas doesn’t kiss me like I’m a piece of crystal. He kisses me like he wants to break me and doesn’t care if he leaves a few scars behind. My lips already feel bruised from the attack of his mouth and it’s the most delicious pain I’ve ever experienced.

His arm tightens around my waist and my toes leave the ground as he holds me against his body, his tongue pushing against my own. One of my legs slides up around his hip and I anchor him to me, pulling him in tighter so I can feel him against me. I slide my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. I can feel every inch of his hard body and it just makes me want more. I’ve never felt fire like this or passion this explosive. It doesn’t even matter that we’re standing in my parents’ driveway, leaning against the hood of my car. I want his naked body against mine and to feel him moving inside me.

He suddenly breaks the kiss and pulls his mouth away from mine. My heart is pounding. At least I’m not alone. With our chests pressed tightly together, I can feel his own heart thudding against mine.

When I can finally breathe again, I speak. “What the hell was that?”

Dallas tightens his hold on me. “Do you really have a tattoo?”

I’m sorry, what? He storms out here and kisses me like that and the first question he asks is about my tattoo?

“Are you kidding me?” I fire back.

“Kind of. Not really. But to answer your question, I don’t know what the hell that was, but I wish it would have happened sooner,” he admits.

“You can’t stand me. You put me down every chance you get. And you expect me to believe you wished you kissed me sooner?”