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Hers turns playful. “You ready to go kick some butt at the pool hall, Henry?”
What the hell is going on?
My dad clears his throat, looking a little awkward before he meets my eyes again. “I’m just picking up Clara. We’re on a team. We play pool together every other week. Tonight’s our night.”
My heart stutters then returns to its normal pace. He’s here for her. His friend. But the way his eyes sparked makes me wonder if there’s more.
“I guess you weren’t expecting to see me?” I ask to be sure.
He shakes his head. “No, but do you want to introduce me to all of your friends?”
I make quick introductions, then say, “Gavin is an amazing defenseman who protects his teammates to the ends of the earth. Rhys is a center, and he’s going to play for the Foxes for a long time to come—I just know it. Hollis is a winger who busts his butt in every game to take care of his mom and sisters. Also, they saved my cat.”
“My grandcat?” my dad asks, voice pitching up, eyes widening.
“This I need to hear,” Clara demands.
“Dad, remember how much you hated Steven?” I ask.
My dad hooks his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. “Sure do.”
Rhys chuckles under his breath. “We all do.”
“He was never good enough for Briar,” Gavin says in a growl.
My dad locks eyes with Gavin. “Damn straight.”
With pride bursting like the sun inside me, I tell my father the story of the night they rescued Frances Furbottom. When I’m done, my dad’s impervious expression is a little less impervious as he nods to the three men. “I appreciate you looking out for my daughter. And my grandcat.”
“We’re happy to,” Hollis says, speaking for the group.
Dad hooks his thumb toward his car. “We should go. But it was good seeing you, kiddo. And nice meeting you.”
We hug goodbye and for a moment, I’m tempted to tell my dad that we’re more than friends for now, that I care for them, that they’re showing me what real affection is.
And for a moment, too, I think he’d be okay with it.
We say goodbye and he leaves, hopping into the front seat, but before Clara gets in, she trots back to me and squeezes me in a hug, then whispers, “I like them.”
My heart catches in my throat. “Me too.”
She lets go and leaves.
By the time I reach the cottage with the guys, I don’t just want to surrender. I need to.
53
A WINDSOR KNOT
Briar
This time I want the theater.
The lights are low in the bedroom. Sexy music plays from my phone, a playlist I created just today.
I call it When the Mood Strikes.
Sultry vocals from whiskey-voiced women singing about longing weave around me as my men and I finish getting dressed, and I put on a gift they got me.
