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He walked over and gave her the glass.
“How was your wine tour?” She took the glass, swirled the wine, and took a sip. “Mmm, that is good.”
He sat down on one of the lounge chairs on the deck. Miniature cedar trees lined the edge of the deck in boxes, and a long table hosted dried hydrangeas. Iris sat with a blanket from an inside basket over her, the chill in the air biting.
“We had to cut it short when Creed was shot.”
She lowered her glass. “How is he doing?”
“He’s getting around.”
“And Fraser’s hand?”
“He messed that up a little during his escapade with Ned, rescuing Shae.” Her father sat with his hands tucked between his knees, wore a flannel shirt. She still couldn’t believe he’d come looking for her.
Reminded her a little of the days when they’d watch football together, just them.
Her gaze cast to Shae in the kitchen, dicing onions. “How is she?”
“Quiet. Won’t talk about it much. But I’m sure it’ll come out when she’s ready. She reminds me of you—strong and silent.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t be so silent. I’m sorry I worried you.”
“I called your mom. She said you two were due a long talk. I think you should do it face-to-face.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Dad. I know you want me to come home, but…well, Yannick promoted me to ump, in Abe’s position—”
“Ump.” He drew a breath. “That’s the most dangerous position on the field. That’s right behind the line of scrimmage—it’s where the blitz happens and most of the plays develop. Last year alone, there were three concussions and a number of shoulder and knee injuries—”
“Seriously? How do you know that?”
“YourRefereemagazine subscription still comes to the house.”
“Don’t worry. I’m fast—probably the fastest official on the field. And I know how to stay invisible and out of the way. I’ll be fine.”
“I know. Mostly. But your mother worries.” He winked.
“Right.”
He got up and pinched her toe through the blanket. “She’s been under the weather a little since we got home. Can’t quite seem to shake the jet lag. Call her more.”
“Okay.”
He stopped at the door. “And by the way, I’m not done with nagging you about coming home. Ned called Fraser and he’s getting ahold of this Caleb Group, trying to find out more, but if there really is a hit out on you…I might have to pull the dad card.”
“I’m nearly thirty.”
“You say that, but I see a four-year-old in pigtails talking to me.”
She lifted her wine glass and sipped it.
He rolled his eyes and went inside.
The sun had sunk to just above the roofline, spilling orange across the dark rooftops. Paris was such a gorgeous old city, every building, every winding street pulsing with history and significance.
She would have liked to explore it a little with Hudson. Maybe get some gelato—
Stop.
