I could sit here all day trading lines with her, but the trash bag waiting by the door is starting to bug me, like a reminder that even perfect mornings have mundane tasks.
I rise from the table and grab the bag. “Hold that thought—if I don’t chuck this out, it’s going to drive me nuts. Be right back.”
“Earn your keep, Lumberjack,” she teases, tilting her head back so I can peck her on the lips. “I’ll be here.”
I grin as I head outside.
The air is crisp, the kind of morning that smells like fresh dew and pine. After tossing the trash into the bin, I pause for a second, letting myself breathe. Conversations with Lucy are a strange mix of ease and tension—enough push and pull to keep me guessing.
I’m about to head back inside when a deep voice cuts through the quiet.
“Didn’t realize Lucy had someone over.”
I freeze.
Turning slowly, I spot a man standing near the driveway, arms crossed and gaze sharp. He’s older, with a rugged face and the kind of presence that tells me he’s no stranger to making people squirm. Jeans. Flannel shirt pushed up to his elbows. Gray hair at the temples. Bare feet.
Must be her dad.
Shit.
I glance down at myself—also barefoot, wearing pajama pants and nothing else. Not exactly the look of a guy ready to make a good first impression.
“Morning,” I manage, offering a small wave like that’ll help.
He doesn’t smile but states the obvious. “Taking out the trash?”
“Yup.” I nod, trying to play it cool. “Making myself useful.”
That earns me a raised brow. He steps closer, and I can feel the shift in the air—like this is a test I didn’t know I was about to take.
“You from around here?” he asks, like he’s already made a judgment but wants to hear what I’ll say.
“Not exactly,” I admit. “Just visiting.”
“Ahh. With that group at the lodge.” He nods slowly. “Why do you look familiar?”
“I play football.”
He nods again. “Ah. Everyone in town is chirping about the group of giants that have descended upon us.”
“Yes, sir.”
I have no idea how to talk to dads. It’s not the same as speaking to a fan.
I had sex with his daughter, and he knows it.
“You always take out the trash in nothing but pajama pants?” he asks, eyes flicking to my bare chest. Down to my bare feet.
“Only when I’m trying to make a good first impression,” I deadpan.
He stares at me for a second, then lets out a bark of laughter. “Well, at least you’re honest. Ya look like a guy who escaped a house fire.”
Translation: You look like a guy who sleeps naked and decided to throw something on quick out of decency.
“Ifeellike I’ve escaped a house fire.”
Lucy’s dad snaps his fingers. “Wait a minute. Now I know who you are. Harris Bennett.”
