Crushed by Laura McNeal

sugary sweetness and felt her lips tingling even before his touched hers. When his hand lightly slid her dress strap down her shoulder and gently peeled the dress away from one breast, she felt a surge of almost greedy desire move through her—a desire that later would make her feel ashamed but now, as it flooded through her, seemed irresistible, and wonderful.

Chapter 24
    Two Brief, Unsettling Conversations
    When Audrey returned home, she was surprised to see a light coming from her father’s study, and peered in. Her father had his back to her and was standing over one of his cherrywood file cabinets, dropping handfuls of paper into a shopping bag at his feet. He was still wearing his work clothes—gray slacks, a white shirt, burgundy suspenders—but his gray sports coat hung from one of a row of cherrywood pegs on the wall.
    â€œHi,” Audrey said.
    Her father wheeled around quickly, and the startled look that crossed his face was of somebody who’d just been caught at something. But then, seeing her, his face visibly relaxed. “Oh, hi, Polliwog. You gave me a start.”
    He gave her dress a quick look, and she was glad she’d slipped the modesty sweater back on. Her father had set a gooseneck lamp on top of the cabinet and adjusted it to crane down and shine on the open files, but its harsh light shone on him, too. He looked old to her, old and worried. “What’re you doing?” she said.
    â€œNothing much. You weren’t home, so I decided to clean out some old files.”
    Audrey nodded as if this made perfect sense, though it didn’t. She glanced down at the shopping bags stuffed with papers. The nearest one read VENI, VIDI, EMI.
    â€œSo how was dinner with the new boy?” he asked.
    â€œGood,” Audrey said, trying to sound more or less businesslike, which was the way her father liked her to talk about her personal life. “If I’d known you were still up, I’d have brought him in to meet you. You’d like him. He’s pretty impressive.”
    â€œNext time,” her father said, and regarded her. “Presuming there will be a next time.”
    Audrey made a point of not lowering her eyes. She hoped she wasn’t blushing. “I don’t know,” she said. “It seems possible.”
    â€œAh,” her father said in a tone Audrey recognized as carefully neutral.
    They were both quiet then, and it seemed to Audrey that her father was ready to resume his file-cleaning work. She yawned, said, “ ’Night, Dad,” and was nearly out the door when her father said, “Audrey?”
    It was the voice he used when there was something he felt he needed to talk to her about, but didn’t want to. It took him a moment to speak, and when he did, he was almost apologetic. “Look, when I got these shopping bags out of the pantry, I couldn’t help seeing the receipts.”
    Audrey was relieved he wasn’t talking about her responsibility to herself and her future, all that stuff—but still, his bringing up money was weird enough. He’d never brought up money before. She didn’t know what to say, so she said, “Did I spend too much?”
    â€œNo, no, it’s not that,” her father said quickly. “It’s nothing you did.” His gaze floated away from her. “It’s just that, right now, temporarily, for just a little while . . .” He didn’t finish the sentence.
    â€œI can cut down,” Audrey said quickly. “I don’t need new stuff.” She shrugged and smiled. “New stuff is just, you know, new stuff.”
    Her father was nodding, but he still kept his eyes averted from hers.
    â€œI can take the new dress and stuff back,” Audrey offered.
    Her father shook his head vaguely. “You don’t have to do that,” he said, which Audrey understood was different than telling her not to.
    â€œIt’s no problem,” Audrey