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Her dad is comically stunned to find the two of us linked together, and when I offer him my hand to shake, his graying brows scrunch. “Rowan Kendrick, sir.”
“Dan Hart.” His gaze darts between us. “What’s this all about?”
“Rowan is my, uh, boyfriend.” Her voice rises as if she’s questioning herself, and I squeeze her tighter. “We’ve been dating for a month now. Sorry I didn’t say anything before, I-I…”
When words fail her, I hurry to interject. “She was nervous to tell you how quickly we’ve fallen for each other.”
“Is that right?” Dan asks, eyes full of suspicion.
“Yes, sir. To be honest, I was anxious to meet the man who raised such a brilliant woman.” I feel him out with a heavy compliment the same way I do with my clients, then add a personal touch. “Molly thinks the world of you.”
Dan heads for the recliner, and Molly grits through a clenched smile, “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t we?”
“Nothing but the truth.” I wink at her, and she pinches my side when he gestures for us to sit on the couch across from him.
“You’ll have to forgive me for being surprised,” he says, exhaling as his back hits the chair. “Molly hasn’t said anything to me about you.”
“Dad,” she chastises him, but I can’t fault the man for his judgment.
In some ways, Dan reminds me of my dad—the subtle wrinkles around his eyes, the calluses on his hands from work and various home improvement projects. He even has the same protective instincts when it comes to his kid, and that leads me to believe he’s a decent guy.
When he asks me a series of hot-seat questions, like where I’m from, what I do for work, and what my intentions are with Molly, I field each one with straight-forward, easy responses. Usually, this works to ease the client I’m speaking with, but not Dan. If anything, my curt, direct answers put him more on edge.
I scoot closer to Molly, striving for ‘boyfriend material’ by relaxing my arm behind her shoulders, but she sits back at the same time and my elbow clocks her temple.
“Ow,” she mutters.
“Sorry.” I sweep her hair from the spot with my thumb, and her breaths quicken slightly when I add, “You’ll get a concussion if we keep this up.”
Her softened laughter soothes a deep, dark part of my soul.
“That’s okay,” she answers shyly, forcing her gaze to her lap.
Dan’s watching us closely, and for a moment, I’m afraid he’ll see right through us. “You know, Molly’s last boyfriend was a lot like you. A guy who made a lot of money doing whatever it is you city boys do, but I always pictured her with a hardworking man. One who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty.”
“I know you have some reservations about what I do for a living, but I assure you, Molly will be well taken care of.”
He snorts. “You don’t know shit about my daughter if you think she needs to be taken care of.”
Fuck, I’m losing him.
I nod to a picture of her mother in a vintage wedding dress, hanging on the wall. “I understand you lost your wife a couple of years ago,” I say. “That must have been incredibly painful for you both.”
Sensing the sincerity in my tone, he shifts a bit uncomfortably. “It was. Molly’s all I’ve got left in this world, and I’ll do anything to protect her.”
“I know exactly what you mean. My brothers and I lost our parents in a fatal car accident.” A forlorn half-grin tugs my cheek. “I suppose over the years, I’ve taken to protecting them as well.”
His stare relaxes nearly instantly, and I realize, like my father, Dan is secretly a softy.
He watches Molly’s hand fall to my knee, giving me a slight squeeze, and my body goes unnaturally still on contact. The urge to take the comfort she’s offering practically suffocates me, but I can’t—not even for show.
“They’ve got a way of sticking around, though, don’t they?” Dan asks. “Letting us know when they’re missing us, and even when we’re messing up.”
A beautiful smile brushes Molly’s lips as if they’re sharing some sort of secret. When I raise a brow, she elaborates, “He cleared the gardens out front at the end of last year.”
“I couldn’t stand the sight of all those flowers taunting me, constantly reminding me of her,” Dan mutters.
“We think she was pissed about it because, not even a month later, those pansies started sprouting up, even though we never planted them.” Molly shakes her head with a thoughtful grin. “They come back every winter and spring.”
