Gentlemen Prefer Curves: A Perfect Fit Novel by Sugar Jamison

own run-in? The same day she kissed the breath out of him. The same day he found out something no son wanted to hear about his parents.
    They’d tried to pay her to leave him. His father had treated her like a prostitute when he offered her to his richer friends. It was the only way he could describe what they’d done to her. They hadn’t treated her like his wife, like somebody who deserved respect. They’d treated her like a problem to be dealt with, like somebody unworthy of human kindness. And as much as he hated what they’d done to her, as much as it disgusted him, he couldn’t stomach what they did to him. His parents didn’t care for him enough to respect his decisions. They went behind his back, they manipulated things to go their way. And for what? To preserve their reputation? It sure as hell wasn’t to preserve his happiness. He could never do that to Ruby. He could never pull her away from somebody who made her happy.
    Belinda may have walked away from him, but his parents had driven a huge wedge between them long before she did.
    He called his parents to confirm what Belinda had thrown at him because at first he hadn’t believed her. He didn’t want to believe her, but he knew it was true. His mother wasn’t home when he called, her cell phone going to voice mail when he tried calling there. His father was out of town on business, unreachable to him for the next few days. It was probably a good thing, he supposed. He was too worked up to think straight.
    They had always tried to control his life. He thought it was over when he and Bethany broke up, but he was wrong. They still manipulated him at every turn.
    “She gave me the sweater, too. But I didn’t spend the money, Daddy,” he heard Ruby say as one reached into her pocket and produced a crumpled ten-dollar bill. “I’m sorry. You said not to take things from strangers but I didn’t think she was a stranger no more.”
    She looked close to tears, and he realized how he had been looking at her. He sighed. What kind of child did he have who blamed herself for his failures? “You don’t need to be sorry, Ruby. I’m sorry. I’m the one who messed up. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. Please forgive me.”
    “It’s okay.” She left her side of the table and crawled into his lap. “I like my sweater.” She stroked her arm down the soft white wool. “Do I gotta to give it back to her?”
    “No. Of course not. I’m just wondering why she bought you a sweater.”
    “Because I was cold. She said I needed to wear sweaters and tights when I leave the house because it’s not warm yet. She said she was surprised you let me leave the house without one.”
    “Did she?” He felt himself growing angry. She was giving his kid money, buying her a sweater, making him feel like he was an incompetent parent. Acting like … She was acting like a mother would. What the hell gave her the right? She could have stayed. They could have made things work, but she didn’t stay, and he was raising Ruby alone. She’d lost her right to have an opinion about her the day she walked out on him.
    “I don’t like it when you’re mad, Daddy. I’ll give the sweater back.”
    “I’m not mad at you, baby. I promise. You can keep your sweater,” he said even though he wanted it out of his house. Every time he looked at it he would know the source, but he wasn’t a petty man. He would never dream of asking his daughter to give back something that made her happy. “Tell me about the rest of your day.”
    She looked up at him unsure for a moment. She could read his moods better than anybody. He was angry but he didn’t want her to know that. He didn’t want her to know how miserable his day had been.
    “Talk to me.” He pressed a kiss into her curls. She relaxed then.
    “Your wife and her mommy shared some fry bread with me. Do you know what fry bread is, Daddy? It’s like fried dough but puffy. The Native Americans invented it. I liked it.