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I’ve never been much of a liar, so I spilled the beans.
So much for stealth.
When they found out, the two of them exchanged a glance. It was one that said a whole lot, a sort of telepathy people develop after thirty-plus years of being married to one another.
Carter walks into my home and is immediately guided into my father’s office, the door closing behind them. Carter looked like a prisoner walking death row, judging by the look he had on his face.
I pout as I stand next to my mother, my arms crossed. “Is this really necessary? It’s not 1957 anymore, Mom.”
She throws her hands up. “It’s just how your father is, sweetie. He’s traditional like that.”
I’m just imagining the thorough tongue lashing my father is giving Carter in there right now, and I wince in empathy for him, regretting that I dared to try to live my life. “I don’t see why going out on a simple date has to be a big ol’ thing. I’m nineteen, you know. Legally an adult. I can go buy cigarettes, join the army, and make a whole lot of other bad decisions.”
Mom sighs. “I don’t think it’s going to be as bad as you’re expecting, sweetie. Your father is strict, but he’s also understanding. There’s more to parenting than just choosing between ‘strict control freak’ and ‘not caring what your kids do whatsoever’. You know he falls in the middle.”
I anxiously wait for the results of the meeting. My mother’s words do little to calm my anxiety.
Finally, the door opens, and a sense of dread hits me. Carter emerges, looking more relieved than anything else.
My father is behind him, patting him on the shoulder, and then he looks at me. “Pumpkin, you go out and be safe tonight. Don’t get into too much trouble, you hear?”
I stare at him in shock. I guess I really expected a lot more shouting and rage about how Carter is a terrible person and how he’s not good enough for his little girl. That I should be about forty years old before I even consider dating.
“Uh, yes, Daddy. No problems here. No trouble at all.”
Carter offers me his hand. My mother gives me a gentle side hug. “Well then, I guess you got a date, sweetie.”
“Shall we?” Carter says as I take his hand and we head for the door. My heart’s still rapidly beating as we cross the threshold.
When we’re out of earshot, I lean in. “What the heck just happened there?”
“Your father apparently just wanted to make sure I understood how important you were to him and wanted to make sure I treated you right.”
“Was he telling you everything you’re not allowed to do with me?”
“Not so much, no. He doesn’t think you should be drinking since you’re still underage, but otherwise? Have fun. Come back in one piece. And if I make you cry, he’s going to show me the wrath of God, as he so delicately put it.”
I laugh, imagining my father picking a fight with Carter. My dad is a lean man who wears thick glasses. He’s no fighter, but damn, I know he would try if someone messed with his family.
Carter would act much the same. But with how he’s built, I imagine he’d be much more effective.
When we get to the truck, he gets the door for me and gestures toward it, the perfect gentleman. Catching a glimpse of his arm tattoo, I giggle and climb into the truck as he closes the door behind me. Between the passenger and driver’s seat, there’s a bouquet of roses. As Carter gets behind the wheel, he notices me looking at them, and then presents them to me. “I meant to meet you at the door with them, but your father’s presence kind of changed things.”
I giggle as I take them and take a whiff. They smell wonderful, and are clearly freshly picked. I wonder if he has a flower garden on his ranch or if there’s a florist in Burly I don’t know about.
“You’re such a sweetheart. Keep proving every assumption I have about you wrong.”
“I’m just treating you like you ought to be treated, Cadence. Got nothing to do with me.”
It has everything to do with him, he’s just being humble. Not every guy brings a girl flowers on the first date and deals with the awkwardness of her overprotective father. But I guess rough and tumble Carter Rowdy has an image to maintain.
“Where are we heading off to, anyway?”
“I got reservations for a fancy Italian place over in Home. Best food you’re going to get in the county, and that’s not meant to be damning of the other restaurants. They’re really good. We used to go there every year for my mother’s birthday before, well... Uh, let’s not talk about that.”
I nod along. I know about the tragedy of Dolly Rowdy’s death, which came far too soon. I figure it’s a sensitive topic for him, so I won’t press him on it.
He turns on the radio and the cab of the truck is filled with the music of Hank Williams. Good, old-fashioned country western music that’s the common favorite of a lot of people in Burly.
