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He’d never been so nervous for a dinner in his life.
Even when he’d proposed to his first wife, at the most expensive restaurant he could afford at the time, he’d been so sure of her answer he hadn’t really been nervous at all.
Because, he was forced to admit, he’d been more or less in control of that situation. He and Laura had discussed marriage extensively, and they’d even gone ring browsing together so he’d had a fairly good idea of what she might like. Barring some unforeseen circumstances, it had been pretty much a done deal before he’d even gotten down on one knee.
Tonight, however… tonight was a completely different story. Every scenario he ran through his head had a wildly different outcome. And while some outcomes seemed more plausible than others, he still had absolutely zero control over what happened.
And he fucking hated it.
But his momma hadn’t raised the type of man who ran when things got hard. So, he put on his big boy pants—and the nicest suit he owned that wasn’t a literal tuxedo—and greeted his closest friend at the door for the sole purpose of telling him he was in love with his daughter.
“Emmett. Charlotte. Come in.” Stepping aside, he ushered them in. “Dinner’s just about ready.”
“Something smells delicious.” Emmett rubbed his hands together and breathed deeply. “Oh my. Is that beef Wellington I smell?”
“It is. I know it’s your favorite and I haven’t had it in a while.” It couldn’t, he’d figured, hurt to butter Emmett up a bit before dropping the bombshell of a lifetime on his head.
“Excellent. Shall we?”
“Make yourself at home.”
From behind her father, Charlotte smiled, her eyes dancing with mischief. She waited until Emmett disappeared around the corner on his way to the dining room to close the distance between herself and Braden, her head tilted back as if inviting a kiss. “So, what’s the plan, Daddy?”
“I’m not sure,” he confessed, giving in to the urge to run his fingers down her bare arms.
“And I bet that’s killing you,” she said with a throaty laugh.
“It is. I don’t particularly enjoy situations where I’m unsure of the outcome.”
“Poor Daddy.” Reaching between them, she cupped his groin and squeezed. “Maybe we should go find an empty room where I can help you… relieve some stress.”
“And ruin your makeup before dinner? I don’t think so, little one.”
“Why would…” Her eyes went wide with understanding as he pressed the pad of his thumb to her bottom lip, pulling it down and forcing her mouth open.
“As much as I would enjoy using your mouth for stress relief right now, having you show up to dinner looking deliciously rumpled and used isn’t exactly how I planned on telling your father about us. So you’ll have to wait until after dinner for me to wreck you.”
Feeling somewhat bolstered by her uneven breaths and the soft whimper that escaped when he stole a kiss, he nudged her gently toward the dining room.
No matter what happened tonight, at least he had something to look forward to when it was all said and done.
* * *
LOTTIE
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her father this happy. Certainly not since her mother’s diagnosis. Watching him with Braden, laughing and drinking and sharing stories from their past was like watching him come alive again.
Granted, it was a little weird listening to him share stories about her as a child. Weirder, still, when Braden would laugh along and add his own memories to the mix. But if it made her father happy, she was willing to let herself be embarrassed for an evening.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t have some fun at their expense.
Slipping off one of her heels, she reached her foot out toward Braden, who happened to be seated directly across from her. When her toes slid up over his dress pants, his gaze flicked over to her. And even though it was only for a split second, there was a wealth of warning in that look.
She’d never been very good at heeding warnings, as the story her father was currently telling about how she and Frankie had nearly burned the Legare’s house down with the chemistry kit Frankie had gotten one year for Christmas clearly confirmed. So she simply slid her foot higher and higher, up his calf to his knee.
In a move so smooth she wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t been watching him so intently, he reached under the table and grabbed her foot. Lottie tried to pull away, but he had a firm grip on her and she didn’t want to alert her father that anything was amiss by yanking too hard.
Braden held her foot hostage all the way up until her dad excused himself to the bathroom as the soup was exchanged for the main course. When they were alone, Braden gave her foot a hard tug, and she slid down in her chair with a yelp.
