“Can I be the giraffe?”
“Oh cool. This is George.” Oh, wait, maybe Daddy wanted to name him something different. “But he doesn’t have to be.”
“George is good. Giraffes are the coolest… I wish I had the setup to house them.”
“What they gotta have?”
“They need really tall fences. I’d have to do too much on mine, and I likely wouldn’t have one very often, but maybe I’ll just come visit you when I need a giraffe fix.”
Daddy gave me another smile, and I got all gooey. He had a pretty smile ’cause he didn’t do it all the time, and that made ’em special.
We played zoo until the sun became too bright, and we had to retreat inside for air conditioning. I watched cartoons and colored at the coffee table while Daddy worked on something clacky at his computer. That kept us busy for the rest of the afternoon. By the time we cleaned up, did afternoon feeds, and wrangled goats, the potluck party was already waiting for us.
In the late afternoon, I eased out of my little space—a quick catnap helped—and made the tarts I was bringing. Daddy tasted a few and declared them delicious, though I suspected he was just trying to smooth over my nerves.
“So, since Dolly went on a field trip and ruined my first outfit, what do you think of this one?” I held up a pair of boring black slacks and an equally staid white button-down. “Does this say I’m a responsible, wannabe inn owner?”
“It screams accountant who cooks books,” Daddy said with a grimace. “Hell, wear your cutoffs. You’d look like you.” Clearly, this man had lost his damn mind.
“There is no way I’m wearing cutoffs to meet everyone. They’d never take me seriously, let alone recommend me to anyone,” I said, my voice climbing higher with each word.
“Selena? Earl? They don’t give a shit what you wear,” Daddy said matter-of-factly. He was wrong, but he sounded so sure of himself.
“Ugh, you’re very unhelpful.” I turned my back to him, hunting for something less stiffly professional and more of a toned-down version of me. I studied the closet like a new wardrobe might magically appear when Daddy’s heavy hands settled on my shoulders. His fingers dug into the tight muscles, working the knots loose.
My little time earlier had eased some of my anxiety about tonight, but it hadn’t taken it all away.
“Sugar, you’re fucking gorgeous, and there’s nothing wrong with how you dress. I know you don’t believe me right now, but no one’s judging what you wear. All you need to do is be yourself, and they’ll think you’re as awesome as I do. And if they don’t? Fuck ’em.” I turned around to make sure I’d heard him correctly, but he looked at me with that same calm, stoic expression
I melted. Right there in front of my open closet, my anxiety vanished because I felt his words to my bones. Why in this moment? No idea, but I felt it all the same. When I leaned back just a smidge, he supported my weight, and suddenly, it felt bigger than just standing in front of an open closet. The heat from him spread through me. I closed my eyes, reached out, and grabbed a shirt from the closet. Nice. The universe chose a yellow shirt with a cartoon diplodocus carrying a Pride flag in its mouth. Perfect.
I’d look like me, and Daddy was fine with it.
Fairy tale.
“Daddy,” I hissed through clenched teeth, “they’re staring.”
When we pulled into the driveway of a small ranch house on the edge of town, I’d steeled myself for a few curious looks. What I hadn’t been prepared for was full-on gawking. I felt like an animal in the zoo. Hopefully, this wasn’t how my goat-a-roonies felt when I stood at their fence and stared.
I tried to pull my hand free, but Daddy’s grip tightened like a vise with no escape.
“Let ’em stare.” He half-pulled, half-dragged me toward the group gathered in the kitchen.
He’d been right about the dress code, mostly jeans and casual wear, but a few people leaned toward business casual. Food was piled high on the table, and nobody was sitting. They stood in clumps with paper plates and napkins. If I’d worn the stiff outfit I’d been debating earlier, I would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb. Instead, in my cutoffs and flip-flops, I landed somewhere below that. Hangnail, maybe? Whatever it was, the dozen—or like ten—sets of eyes on me didn’t help.
“Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Jasper Greer.”
Daddy’s words dropped like a bomb. The staring intensified—and I joined right in, jaw dropped. What was he thinking? Clearly, he wasn’t.
“What? Is there something else I’m supposed to call you?” Hank said like it was no big deal. Spoiler alert—it was a big deal.
Unfortunately, no sinkhole opened to swallow me through the kitchen linoleum. Those were loaded words. I’d barely been here a few weeks, and he was already claiming me? Bad plan, Daddy. Very bad plan. His neighbors would think he’d lost his damn mind.
Finally, Selena broke away from the crowd and beamed at me.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so glad you could make it, Jasper. We were just talking about how nice it’ll be to have more options here in town for a bed and breakfast.”
As she spoke, she reeled in a barrel-chested man with a beer in his hand and an amused smile on his face.
