“I can’t wait to tell Fallon you said that,” Harper says, piling food on his plate. “Eat.”
“Don’t you be telling me what to do,” he gripes at her. “I’ll eat when I want to eat.”
Harper scoffs. “Eat, Dad.”
“You’re not in charge of me, Harper Margaret. I’m in charge of this house. I’m going to eat because I’m hungry and not because you told me to.” Dad grabs his fork, shoveling some potatoes and roast into his mouth.
Harper doesn’t even seem fazed by it and grins at me. I swear I can hear her glee at being able to redirect him where she wanted.
Hopefully we’ve circumvented the field, because I can’t lose all that hay. I’ll have to buy some or barter for it, and there’s really no need, because we have plenty. If my father doesn’t screw it all up.
Sadie leans back. “We saw Lark today.”
I close my eyes and pray for a miracle to get us out of this conversation.
“Lark Gatlin?” Dad asks.
“Yeah, she was shopping when we were there. So Dad and I talked to her.”
Harper places her fork down but holds on to the knife. Not a good sign.
“We said hello to her and her mother, and then we came home,” I say, finishing the rest of the story before heads start exploding.
“Millie Gatlin should’ve run the other way when George asked her to dance in high school. I thought she was real nice back then, even though she had bad taste.”
Harper snorts. “I’m pretty sure they said the same about Momma.”
“Your mother knew quality when she saw it. One look at me, and she knew I was the best man for her.” Dad sits up taller. “Now those Gatlins, there isn’t much quality about them.”
“Lark is nice,” Sadie argues.
Yes, Lark is nice. And beautiful. And funny. And smart. And sexy. And alluring.
And…and…and.
Trouble.
That’s the word I should be holding on to. Lark Gatlin is trouble, and I’m running straight toward it.
Like a damn fool.
“Lark is a Gatlin,” my sister says. “Not much nice about her.”
“Lark is nothing like her brothers,” I remind her. “She’s never done a thing to us.”
“Oh, yes, she’s just a victim in this family feud.” Harper rolls her eyes and then grabs her fork. “You know, she was just so vocal when her asshole brother ruined your sister’s life.”
“Lark wasn’t the one who did it. Just like you, Fallon, Roni, and I didn’t do a damn thing to earn their hatred,” I say, tipping my head to the side.
“You aren’t seriously defending her, are you?” my sister asks.
“I’m telling you the truth, Harper. If that’s defending her, then so be it. She’s been nice to Sadie—they talked about chickens. She’s never done anything to us and even apologized for her family calling the cops on us. So, yeah, I’m not just sitting around hating people who aren’t doing anything wrong.”
My father sits back, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Harper and me go back and forth. She turns to him. “Got nothing to say now, Dad?”
He chuckles. “Oh? Now you want me to have an opinion?” Sadie giggles and he winks at her. “I think there are always bad apples, and then a good one drops. Maybe Lark is that, maybe she’s not.”
“Who’s the good apple on our tree, Grandad?” Sadie bats her lashes at him.
