Page 34 of Earned Husband

Once he was gone, Basel picked up one of the bottles and turned the label toward me. “This is from Egypt.”

He stood and poured a glass, then put it down right in front of me. The golden liquid shimmered in the sunlight streaming in through the windows, catching it in a way that made it look absurdly appealing. I wanted it desperately, but I was pretty sure that reaching for it as fast as I almost did would make me look weak. Or scared. Maybe both.

Basel sat back down after pouring his own glass, but then instead of talking, he just stared at me for a very long time without saying a single word. I was starting to think this was a tactic of his, staring until a person became acutely aware of their own existence. Annoying.

Eventually, when I considered downing the whole beer just to have something to do other than stare back at him, he sighed. “Colin, are you familiar with the bible story of Jacob and Rachel?”

Both of my eyebrows arched. There were many directions I’d thought this conversation might go in, but the Bible had not been on my list. “I can’t say that I’m particularly familiar with that one, unfortunately.”

Basel smiled. “It’s one of my favorite stories. Should I tell it to you?”

“I have no opinion on that.”

His smile widened a little bit, real amusement lighting his eyes now. “It’s relevant. I promise.”

“Then please,” I said. “Go ahead.”

“Jacob met Rachel and fell in love with her immediately,” Basel said. “He wanted to marry her, so he went to her father.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. “Traditionally, that is how it goes, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but in this case, her father’s agreement came on the condition that Jacob had to work for him for seven years.”

“Seven years?” I repeated incredulously. “That’s a pretty long interview process.”

To my surprise, Basel chuckled, but it wasn’t any more reassuring than a tiny life raft in a storm out on the open ocean while the ship was already going down. Basically, it held possibility, but the chances of getting out alive were still slim.

“It was certainly quite the commitment, but Jacob agreed, and for seven long years, he worked for her father, but when that time was over, Rachel’s father gave Jacob the wrong daughter.”

“Yikes, he really should have labeled those daughters.”

Basel laughed. “No, it wasn’t on accident.”

I frowned. “So then?”

“Jacob loved Rachel so much that he worked for another seven years.”

Fourteen years for one woman. Holy fuck. Forget buying flowers once a year on an anniversary. That was some real commitment.

“It sounds like he was a very dedicated man.”

“He was.” Basel’s features softened. “Love is rarely practical, Colin. Jacob understood that.”

And this was hisfavoritestory?

I had a feeling it wouldn’t go down so well if I came right out and asked him that, so I kept it to myself instead. Starting an argument wasn’t my goal here today, and since he’d said this story was relevant, I’d much rather him get to the point anyway.

“Deja likes you,” he said, the look in his eyes still surprisingly soft and understanding.

I nearly fell out of my chair, disbelief smacking into me like an out of control speedboat, but before I could pinch myself to make sure this was real, he spoke again.

“There’s a light in her eyes around you that I haven’t seen before.” His gaze drifted briefly toward the windows. “She’s my oldest daughter. My lily. I know her. “I’ve waited a long time for a man worth his weight in gold for her. I believe that man is you.”

Oh, fuck. I want that beer.

This was, hands-down, the strangest, most unexpected conversation I’d ever been part of in my entire life—and my father had been arrested for fraud and taken our entire family down with him.

“That’s kind of you to say, sir,” I told him.