“You don’t want to talk about what just happened?”
“Not with you.”
“Well, you won’t talk to your dad. My guess is you’re going to keep that scowl on till sunrise and avoid talkin’ to anyone, hoping your little problem goes away.”
“That’s a good guess.” He reaches up to lower the trunk door. “Last chance,” he warns.
I cross my arms. “Not going anywhere until you talk to me.”
“Oh, you’re going somewhere.” He lifts my legs and pushes them over to the side before lowering the door shut. Through the window I watch him stalk around to the driver’s seat.
He buckles his seatbelt. “Best hold on to something.”
I sit up on my knees, hands clutching the backseat headrest. “OK, fine. Don’t talk to me. But ignoring this is not going to make it go away.”
“I’m not ignoring anything. I’m just giving a grieving man time. He’ll come around.” He grips the steering wheel with one hand and starts the engine with the other.
I raise my voice over the humming. “Out of curiosity, what madeyoucome around?”
He pauses, eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror, like he fell for some trap.
Because I’m pretty sure I know the answer.
Ellie.
I hold his cold eyes. Softening mine enough for the both of us. “There has to besomethingyou can do.”
“There is.” He pulls hard on the gear shift, throwing it into drive. “Getting you out of here.”
Gravel kicks up from the tires and I jolt back with a yelp, sliding across the space, my arms flailing like they’re trying to hold on to my dignity.
I manage to catch my breath when the road straightens but then he rounds the bend again—and sharply.
I roll like a duffle bag. “How many more curves are there on this damn ranch?” I howl.
He chuckles. “’Bout fifty.”
I growl and use my suitcase for leverage as I grab hold of a coat hook and climb over to the backseat. From here, I whack him on the back of his head. He barely moves from the impact.
I grip his right shoulder, which he locks in place for me, as I climb into the front passenger seat.
He slows down until my butt hits the seat, but then swerves the second my seatbelt clicks.
“What’s your problem? I just asked if you wanted to talk about it,” I shout.
“Let’s get something straight,” he shouts right back. “You’rethe talker. Not me. I got nothing to say.”
“Dallas,” I breathe. “Someone might belegitimatelythreatening to take your girl away. You can’t ignore that.”
“I told you, I’m not.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Taking it as a goddamn sign,” he mutters.
I blink. “A sign?”
His jaw tightens. “A sign. Message. ’Ever the hell you want to call it.” He stares at the road as it grows dark. “Think it was coincidence that he shows up the same night Ellie moves in with me? The first night that kicks off fatherhood in every way, shape and form. Just the two of us.” He waves an arm out. “Expectations. Things I should know, do, say.” He gulps. “It’s like someone tellin’ me I’m not ready.”
