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He stands and stretches, and I blow out a breath, wondering how to broach the very important thing I need to ask. I don’t want to just blurt it out. It’ll make me sound immature and insecure.
But…why the fucking hell has no Malone threatened any bodily harm to Liam yet? It’s not fair.
Hale and Killian were ready to murder Benson.
Not one Malone has even cracked his damn knuckles in Liam’s direction.
“Kylie?” he asks, sounding more serious. “Where’s that boy?”
The bite of anger in his tone has me grinning. “He’s in bed. I snuck out to talk to you about Mom. Wondering if you think Liam might be anything like her…”
I’m so going to hell.
I may be the first girl ever to want her father to threaten the guy she’s dating. Seriously, why hasn’t he? Liam isn’t that perfect. Maybe I should bring up the forgotten girlfriend thing…
No. Then dad would just literally kill him.
“Figured you might eventually come to me with that question,” he says, walking over to take the bucket of milk out from under the cow. He pushes Betsy May—I’m not the one who named the cow and turned her into a cliché—toward the back, but I remain on the stool.
“You’re worried about Liam running off the way your momma did, right?” he asks with his back still turned as he puts the cow back out to pasture.
Sighing dramatically, I nod, then realize he can’t see me. But before I can answer aloud, he turns and starts speaking like he somehow saw my non-verbal answer.
“Kylie, if you go comparing every person not from Tomahawk to your mother, you’ll end up bitter real fast. Chester Perkins, for example, has never trusted a woman outside of Tomahawk, and no woman from here would ever be stupid enough to date him.”
My eyebrow arches and I huff a little indignantly. “Are you saying no one from here would ever—”
“I’m saying,” he interrupts, a small, mocking grin on his face, “it’s a rare thing to find someone from anywhere who can truly embrace a girl like you. Benson was a gem in a pile of rubble, and Lilah snatched him up for that reason. But Liam? Liam is the kind of guy who doesn’t just embrace this life; he enjoys it.”
He starts straightening up, but I remain on my stool, just staring idly at nothing.
How did this conversation get so sidetracked? And how do I make him start threatening Liam? Because Lilah’s a little smug about the fact they’ve already accepted Liam as one of their own without a single noogie.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” is the answer I decide to go with to get us back on track.
A rumble of laughter shakes him as he looks at me like he’s amused.
“You want me to tell you that Liam is never going anywhere. You want me to tell you that, even though he’s not from Tomahawk, he’s always going to stick around. You want me to make promises that no one can make, because no one can see the future.”
No, I want you to threaten him just one little tiny time.
I heave out a breath and roll my eyes, and then have a flashback to being sixteen, so I sit a little straighter and show off my adult posture to compensate. This is not at all the correct conversation.
I’m past this. Lilah’s married advice has already pushed me beyond this hurdle, damn it. Why is Dad making this so complicated? Just one limb. He just has to threaten one limb—or organ—on Liam’s body.
“But,” he says dramatically, bringing my gaze back to meet his eyes that are dancing with mirth, “I’ve never seen someone fit so well so soon in this crazy town.”
He comes closer, towering over me as I remain seated on the small milking stool, hating the fact I’m stuck here for this weird speech he thinks is empowering.
His hands go to his sides, making him look like a superhero, sort of like he always looked when he was raising me and my unruly cousins on his own. But why is he actually posing right now?
“Your mother never tried to fit in, Kylie. Neither did the boys’ parents. They saw themselves somewhere else the entire time they were here. Liam loves this town. He may have moved here for you, but he’s stayed because he found his unusual tribe in the most unusual of places.”
His grin grows as I stare at him like he’s getting a little too theatrical.
“You’re starting make all this less of a father/daughter conversation and more of an after-school special,” I point out dryly. “My question is, are you cool with some unknown guy who stalked me here stripping me out of my clothes every night?” I ask, helping put him on the path to Threatsville.
I bet the Malones will be twice as brutal as the Vincents when they finally get unleashed.
