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“Ferocious?”
“Ferocious,” he scoffs. “My voters say I’m ‘kindness and generosity itself.’”
I kiss his salt-and-pepper temple. “You are. To everyone but the guys I show remote interest in.”
He eyes me as I straighten. “And do you show remote interest in Archer Kade? You can tell me the truth. I promise I can take it.”
I give him a look of long-suffering. “No. Not after today.”
Dad’s relief was palpable. “In that case, what if you ask Luke to be your date for the party? All the Walkers are coming anyway.”
That was no surprise. Dad and Tom Walker served together with the ARPD for years, and our families have always been close. Tom’s wife, Ann, trimmed my hair often when I was younger, and she always looked out for me when Dad was busy on the force.
“I’m excited to see them all again. But if a date isn’t required, I think I’ll go solo.”
Dad gives me a wary look.
“It’s what people do now, Dad. I’m a modern woman, and modern women are fine going to events alone.” Then I pause. I already know the answer to my next question, but I ask it anyway. “Are you going with a date?”
Dad blinks, then looks away with a scoff. “Me? Please. A date. I hardly think that’s necessary.”
The longer I wait to respond, the deeper his face reddens. What is happening right now? Dad never blushes when I talk about him going on dates or pursuing the idea of marrying again, and I ask him at least two or three times a year.
Has he met someone? Who is it? And why has he not told me about her yet?
I wondered about this happening when I first left for college—that his loneliness would get to him. Over the years, we had grown comfortable with it being just the two of us. At BU, I had roommates and boyfriends to keep me company. Dad only has work associates and neighbors—and Tom, of course. But they couldn’t have been enough for him, right?
“What are you not telling me, Dad?”
“Nothing,” he says, groaning as he stands from his recliner. “Who would I even take on a date? Anyway, I’m too old for that now. I’m feeling like some ice cream. This might be one of the last warm days we have. Want to join me?”
No, I want to press him for more information, but he walks away to pull his wallet from the bowl on the kitchen counter.
Fine. I’ll let it go. For now. He may not want to talk about it, but I’d be over the moon to hear if he’s finally found someone to love again. Especially because I am destined to be alone forever.
No man—especially not the cowboy—is ever going to pass Dad’s muster.
Archer
Holding the reins loosely in my right hand, I allow my chestnut mare, Lady Liberty, to make her way through the maple trees. Metal buckets are nailed to a few of the trunks at varying heights, though maple won’t be collected until winter.
The air around us is soft and quiet, despite the gentle thudding of horses’ hooves against solid ground. When I don’t have anyone booked for trail rides, I get to exercise the herd myself. It’s always a really peaceful experience–usually the best part of my day.
But not today. I can’t focus on Lady Liberty or on Aunt May’s maple trees or on the scent of the quiet, wooded grounds around me. Instead, my mind spins, replaying the moments I shared with Juliet earlier today. Will she take me up on my offer to help her relive her teenage fantasy? She must have known the suggestion was purely to annoy her dad. But will that make her avoid me now? And will that be for the best?
“You seem quiet today.”
I glance at my riding companion, Sadie Stevenson. I almost forgot she was here, watching me with that unusually scrutinizing gaze. Her shock of copper hair falls down around her shoulders in a flattering way, and her bangs almost hide her brows entirely.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “Just thinking.”
“It’s fine. There’s no need to talk. You know that.”
The two of us have been taking these rides for the last four years now, and she’s never been one to push me.
When she first approached me years ago to ride my horses, keep them exercised, and provide support around the stables, I was hesitant. I wasn’t in the best headspace, due to the mayor and his accusations. Sadie reassured me, however, that her presence would go veritably unnoticed, so I accepted.
Her promise had worked...for a while. Then her personality burst forth. I don’t mind talking with her, though, despite us not having much in common beyond our love of horses and baked goods. Her friendship has been much appreciated, especially when my cousin James was gone and my Aunt May’s arthritis and knee problems getting worse.
