Mom ended the call and immediately another buzz followed.
“They’ve started a group text,” my mom announced.
“Of course they have,” I said.
Across the diner, someone openly snapped another photo.
Josh stood halfway, glaring in that direction.
“Sit,” Dad ordered quietly.
And, of course, the bell jingled again.
The entire diner’s attention shifted away from me.
Boots.
Spurs.
Long coat.
Dark hat.
Ian walked in dressed head to toe in gunslinger black, the morning light catching the edge of his silhouette like he’d stepped out of an old Western instead of a photo shoot.
The diner fell silent, yet again.
He paused just inside the doorway, surveyed the room, then his gaze landed on me.
The expression that crossed his face made my entire family turn in their seats at once.
CHAPTER 21
For one suspended second, no one moved.
Then Ian did.
He stepped forward slowly, boots measured against the diner floor, coat shifting with each stride. People instinctively moved out of his way, not dramatically, just enough. Chairs scraped and conversations stopped mid-word.
I couldn’t help the thought that flashed through my mind. A scene right out of an old Western, the gunslinger walking toward the sheriff for a showdown.
Dad rose to his feet before Ian reached the booth.
Josh did too.
Amy stayed seated, calm as ever.
My mom moved aside.
Ian stopped directly in front of my father. Hat low, his expression steady, and his voice strong and confident.
“It was an accident.”
My dad remained silent.
Ian held his gaze. “I don’t hit women, and I would never intentionally lay a hand on your daughter.”
The diner was so quiet you could hear the refrigeration unit humming behind the counter.
