“We’ll see,” I manage to choke out.
Jake chuckles, reaching his hand into the vehicle. “Good meeting you, sir. And Richard.” My dad shakes Jake’s palm with a tight, brief nod. Jake steps back, giving me one last lingering look before heading toward his truck. “See you tonight, Campbell.”
The moment his truck door slams shut, my dad turns to me, his expression hardened with disapproval.
“I certainly hope you aren’t getting involved with someone like that,” he says, his voice dripping withcondescension. “Athletes. Men like that . . . they aren’t breadwinners. They have short careers and no real stability. You need someone who can provide a proper future.”
The humiliation that I was drowning in before evaporates, and it’s replaced by a cold, sharp anger. My dad’s antiquated ideas are infuriating, especially because he’s willing to flex his ideas about gender roles if I’m working for him.
“I am my own breadwinner, Dad,” I say, my voice steady and lethal as I grip the edge of the car door. “I’m perfectly happy with the tax bracket I’m in. I don’t need anyone to provide a future for me.”
My dad checks his watch, completely ignoring the bite in my tone. “We have a flight to catch back to Nashville, honey, so I have to go. Just promise me you’ll think about what I said.”
My brow creases, wondering if he means Jake or my job.
“We could really use you at the firm.”
And . . . that clears that up.
“Safe flight.” I slam the door shut.
I stand on the scorching asphalt as the SUV pulls away and eventually disappears down the road. Even though I stood my ground, I register the hollow ache opening in my chest. No matter what I achieve, no matter how independent I am, I always end up feeling diminished after spending time with my father.
Hours later, the sun has finally dipped below the horizon, taking the worst of the daytime heat with it.
I stand in front of my closet for twenty minutes before deciding to shed my corporate skin. At first, I wasn’t going to go. Then, I made the decision that if I land on the right outfit, I’ll consider it. And finally, I put my boots on.
If I am going to Earl’s, I am going to fit in. I trade my slacks and blazers for a pair of short denim cut-offs, abreezy white cotton top that leaves my shoulders bare, and my favorite worn-in cowboy boots.
When I push open the heavy wooden door to Earl’s, the thick scent of smoked barbecue and beer on tap hits me. As I step inside, a few low, appreciative whistles sound from a table near the jukebox. I ignore them, but a small smile tugs at my lips anyway.
I make my way toward the back of the bar, where a massive horseshoe of tables has been pushed together. It’s Mavericks territory.
“Look who made it!” one of the players calls out.
Before I can even slide into an empty seat, a basket of piping hot, glistening Buffalo wings slides across the table, stopping right in front of me. I look up to see Jake sitting directly across the gap, a lazy, welcoming grin on his face.
“Eat up. You’re gonna need the energy,” he says, his eyes tracking the bare skin of my shoulders before locking onto my face.
As I settle in, I notice a sudden, awkward shift in the atmosphere. The rowdy, boisterous conversation that had been echoing from the table completely dies down. A few of the guys cough into their hands, looking very interested in their beer bottles, and avoiding all eye contact with me. They’re hushing up what they were talking about before I arrived.
I roll my eyes playfully, leaning my elbows on the table.
“Oh, come on, guys. Don’t do that. What were you talking about? Don’t worry about offending me. Trust me, I can handle it.”
The guys exchange glances until Jayden, one of our rising stars, clears his throat. “All right, well . . . we were having a debate.”
He scans the faces of his teammates, I think hopingsomeone else will jump in and help him. They all seem happy to let him take this on solo, though.
“We were trying to figure out if a woman actually likes having her hair pulled during . . . you know.Intimate moments.”
I choke on a laugh, completely caught off guard. The table erupts into a chaotic debate right in front of me, the guys throwing out differing opinions with absolute sincerity. Finally, Jayden turns to me, pointing a carrot stick in my direction.
“All right, Campbell. You get to settle the score. What’s the verdict? From a woman’s perspective. Hair pulling . . . thumbs up? Or . . .”
Jayden tips his thumb down.
I click my tongue, shaking my head with a grin.
