"Stop trying to use the delay to get me to eat!"
He just lifted a nicely-shaped brow. "Violet, until you eat three meals a day without being forced, don't bitch at me. You know what Gran asked of me before she died?" He didn't give me time to answer. "She told me to take care of you and make sure that you never fall into the anorexia thing again. I swore to Gran, sweetie, that I'd annoy you, piss you off, and do whatever it takes to remind you that food goes in the mouth, not in the garbage."
I tossed my half-eaten food back into the plastic basket. "I don't mean to."
"I know, and that's why they call it an eating disorder, but I'm going to help."
I reached over and grabbed his hand. "Thanks. And that's why they call it a friend."
"Exactly. Now, from what I heard, he's gonna drop that girl off and come take care of his horses. You mind staying inside?"
Not what I’d expected. "Yeah, kinda."
"Well, do it anyway, because I think the boys need to talk before I leave town, and I'm not so good at sucking up when you're in the same room."
"Ok. Just no more fighting."
He slid to the end of the bench seat and grabbed our garbage. "Promise. If your soon-to-be boyfriend beats the crap out of me, I'll spend the next year reminding you that I took it because you asked me to."
"Asshole," I grumbled.
He laughed. "You've called me worse. Now where are my keys? I want to drive that thing a few more times before I take it back in the morning."
Digging in my purse, I pulled out the fob, but didn't quite give it back. "And you'll tell me everything you two talk about?"
He reached for the keys, but I jerked them back. Trying again didn't get any better results, so he groaned. "Fine. I'll tell you everything we talk about. Now can I please drive the Porsche?"
Tossing the keys toward him, I hurried for the door. "Shotgun," I called over my shoulder, making Ashton laugh.
"There's only two seats in a Boxster, sweetie."
"Which means I get shotgun. Now shut up and enjoy the country roads. Pretty sure there aren't any cops with radar guns in this town."
"That's all I needed to hear."
He hurried to catch up, and we rushed to the car. When he pulled out of the parking lot, he said the gravel was why the tires spun, but we both knew that was a lie. For the first time all week, things were starting to look up, and we were going to enjoy it. He rolled down the windows. I turned up the music. For the few miles between the grill and Southwind, I was going to pretend that nothing at all was wrong. I only got Ashton for one more day, then I was back to facing the hell of this small town on my own.
Unless Luke decided he could forgive me.
Chapter Thirteen
Faith didn't stop talking the whole way home. For the first time in months, my little girl was back to her happy self - even if I wasn't sure I liked the reason. I just hoped that Violet didn't break her heart. She was too fragile right now. It wouldn't take much to destroy what little confidence she had.
"And she's so pretty," Faith was saying. "Do you think I can do my hair like that, Dad?"
I chuckled. "No. School wouldn't let you, and your hair's too dark. Don't think it'd work, kiddo."
"Oh."
Ah, hell. I'd done it again. Clearing my throat, I cast a glance over at her. "But maybe you can ask her about alternatives? She's got some crazy fashion sense."
"Think she could make me look pretty?"
Yeah, this was still dangerous territory even when it was my own daughter. Maybe more so. "Cupcake, I think you're probably the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, but I might be a bit biased."
"But I'm not, Dad. Do you think Violet would help? Maybe she can teach me how to do makeup or something."
"Uh." She was twelve! Did girls really start wearing makeup this young? "I think you'll have to ask your mom if that's ok. If it was up to me, you wouldn't get makeup until you were eighteen."
