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“Depends on if you’ll be here or not. I don’t want to interrupt anything you’ve got going on.”
“I won’t be back until later, too, so you’re welcome to come back. It’s your home as much as mine. Just...don’t kiss him on my chair.”
I laugh. “I would never do that, Dad.”
He relaxes. “All right. Have fun with your boyfriend, then.” He says with a little grimace.
“And you have fun with your girlfriend.”
He pauses, then grins like a schoolboy.
“Gross,” I tease before a knock sounds on the door. “I can get that.”
Dad pauses. “Now I can’t even answer the door?”
“Fine. Just don’t bring out the shotgun this time, okay?”
“Not even if the safety’s on?”
I laugh, shaking my head as I thread the final earring through my ear, and Dad leaves my room to open the front door.
He’s still coming around to the idea of my dating the cowboy, but he’s treating Archer with more respect than ever, and it’s alleviated most—if not all—of the stress in my life.
Their pleasant greetings travel toward me, and I shake my head in amazement as I put on a quick slab of lipstick, check my reflection in the mirror, then head out to greet them.
Archer doesn’t comment on my appearance—no doubt for Dad’s sake—but I can tell he likes it as his eyes linger with a look of pleasure.
“You’ve had enough food and water today?” Dad asks.
“More than enough. I’ve gone to the bathroom like fifty times.”
I glance at Archer, realizing it’s probably not polite to speak about things like using the toilet, but he only smiles, amused.
“You guys have a good time tonight,” Dad says as Archer helps me into my coat.
“You, too.” I reach forward, giving him the soft embrace I know he needs right now. “Love you, Dad.”
He returns, hugging me with those big bear-arms of his. “Love you, too, Jules. Keep safe.”
I pull back with a reassuring nod. “I will. I’ll see you soon.”
Archer holds the door open for me, shakes Dad’s hand, then helps me through the darkness and into the truck—carefully avoiding the black specters this time in the dark of the night.
“You look amazing,” he says as soon as we’re alone. The light from his dashboard illuminates his features.
“Thanks. I think I’ll wear this to church on Sunday.”
He chuckles, then reverses out of the drive. “What time does the event start?”
“Thirty minutes or so. I just didn’t want to wait any longer to see you.”
“In that case...” He gives me a side-eye.
“What?”
His lips curve, but he remains silent with that mischievous look in his eye until he turns down the wrong road—in the direction of only one location.
“Don’t even...” I say, though my stomach fills with butterflies.
