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I roll my eyes. Easy for him to say, I suppose. “Well, you have a few more months here. Might want to find a way to get over your beef.”
“Tell that to your boy.”
“I bet punching you in the face would make him feel better, but hey, that’s just me,” I taunt, walking toward the shop. “See ya.”
Pulling out the cutter and sawhorses, I set up what we’ll need to measure and cut the large pieces for the posts. My dad arrives minutes later with my mom on his heels talking a hundred miles an hour.
Before I can announce I’m here, my dad grabs my mom, cups her face, and kisses her hard. He tilts his head so his hat doesn’t smack her as she wraps her arms around his waist. It’s adorable how they’re still so in love after all these years, and it gives me hope for a long and happy marriage too. However, the second my mother moans, I’m done.
“Excuse me,” I say, clearing my throat obnoxiously loud. “This is how childhood traumatic stories are born.”
They break apart, not in the least embarrassed as they scowl at me. “You’re not a child anymore,” my mother retorts.
My dad shamelessly slides his hand down and cups her ass. “How do you think babies are born? Need a demo?” He waggles his brows, which has my mom laughing.
“Oh God. Y’all are too damn much.” I groan. “You can do this project alone.” I make a big show of ripping off my gloves, but my dad just rolls his eyes.
“And if you do need to know how babies are born, I can give you some pamphlets,” my mom adds.
“I went to fifth grade health class. I’m good.” I put my gloves back on and walk away. “When you two lovebirds are done making me sick, let’s get to work.”
“Hey, I’m your boss. Not the other way around,” my dad quips.
I wave him off over my shoulder. Perhaps I should be happy they’re still together, considering how many of my friends grew up in split households, but I could do without the over-the-top PDA.
My father finally joins me, and we start working. He blasts the radio and starts singing along to the ridiculous country songs. I don’t even have it in me to give him shit for it because Diesel does the same thing.
At five until nine, I tell him I’m taking a break to grab a bite to eat at the B&B. He smirks, knowing I’ll be meeting Zoey. I know he’s still surprised about the marriage, but he understands my situation more than anyone.
I walk into the B&B after cleaning the sawdust off my shirt and jeans, trying not to look like a mess. Zoey’s in one of the lounge chairs reading, so I walk up behind her and press my lips to her ear.
“I just found the prettiest woman here. Care to join me for breakfast?”
The woman jumps, nearly smacking me in the face with her book. I stumble back just as she turns and scowls at me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Oh my God. It’s not Zoey. Though she has the same hair color and build as her.
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry.” I press a hand to my chest, mortified. “I thought you were someone else.”
She continues shooting daggers at me, and when I look up, Zoey is standing across the room with an arched brow and a knowing smirk.
“You lost, cowboy?” Zoey saunters toward me as the other woman walks away. I try to apologize to her again before she’s out of sight, but she ignores me. No doubt, Uncle John will hear about it.
“I swear, from the back…” I extend my arm to prove that from the angle and the chair, it really looked like her. Defeated, I give up and slump my shoulders. “Fuck it. She was obviously not you.”
Zoey chuckles, closing the gap between us and wrapping a hand around my neck. “Well, now that you have the right one, what are you gonna do about it?”
Popping a brow, I grab her waist and pull her lips to mine.
“Excuse me?” The sound of my father’s voice has us breaking away. Fucking great.
Zoey pinches her lips together, bringing both of her arms behind her as if she’s innocent. It makes me chuckle because we’re not kids, but to anyone outside the family, my dad looks intimidating as hell. He’s stacked like Diesel, but deep down, he’s a softy.
“Weren’t you just complainin’ about me and your mom, and now you’re making out in front of the entire place?” He grins at me when Zoey’s eyes widen, and she blushes.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” I grab Zoey’s hand and squeeze. “We were just about to eat. Bye, Old Man.”
“You be careful with that one,” my dad warns when Zoey looks over her shoulder.
