Chapter Nineteen

Kyle

The Toyota rattled its way home. Kyle’s hands ached from hoeing and tearing at the grass in the Gladwells’ yard, and he feared the dirt crusted under his nails was a permanent addition. Not exactly the impression he wanted to make with Faith tonight, especially since she hadn’t been home to see what he was working on. She might assume he was lazy.

Or a slob.

The familiar tug of nerves tried to claw its way up his throat. Damn it, not this time. This time he’d have a date with a nice, pretty girl, and he wouldn’t fuck it up. He wouldn’t.

Feeling defiant, he turned into the driveway and parked in the standalone garage next to Grandpa’s Benz. Dad’s car was gone, but it was only five thirty, and it was tax season.

He unloaded the truck and carried everything to the workshop at the back of the garage Dad had set up for him as a reward for starting his business. They didn’t need room for six cars, and Kyle enjoyed the quiet the workshop gave him.

Kyle took his time cleaning his tools, bending at the waist every so often to stretch the kinks from his back. Where had Faith been all day? Her car was there when he started work, but gone when he went to lunch, and still gone when he stopped for the day. Had she decided to back out of their date and hidden instead?

His stomach clenched again. Good-bye, defiance—now he was nervous.

He wiped his damp hands on his filthy jeans and loaded his tools back into the Toyota. The truck was sloppy with mud and dead plant matter. No way he could show up for a date in it, even if he wanted to, just to stop being a jackass poseur for a minute. However, on the other side of the garage, the Charger gleamed in the fluorescent light. A smile spread across his face. He didn’t remember it being so clean this morning when he left for work. Kyle might be a poseur, but his grandpa knew what impressed the ladies.

“I’m home!” he hollered from the mudroom after kicking his mud-caked boots off by the door.

“In here!” Grandpa’s voice came from the kitchen.

Kyle went to the fridge. Grandpa was sitting at the table, reading glasses perched at the end of his nose. He was reading one of those men’s magazines—the article read “Get Shredded in Thirty Days.”

Kyle swallowed a laugh. “Thinking about working out?”

Grandpa snorted. “I don’t understand a word of this. In my day, you ran two miles, did forty sit-ups, forty push-ups, twenty pull-ups, and called it good. This here says I’m supposed to have a chest day, a leg day, an arm and shoulders day. Who has the time?”

“Uh, you? You are retired, you know.”

“Poppycock. You take a look at the Charger?”

He smiled. “Yeah. Thanks for having her washed.”

“Hey, can’t take a lady for a ride around town in a dirty car, son. This tells her she’s special.” The corner of Grandpa’s mouth twitched. “And I’m assuming that’s true since you sat through the whole musical last night.”

“And I’ve had that Kansas City song stuck in my head since.” He took a swig from his water bottle. “Drove me nuts.”

“Those men could dance back then.” Grandpa’s tone was approving. “Hmm, wonder if your date is a girl who just cain’t say no?”

Kyle’s ears flamed up. “Jesus, Grandpa. I’m not dating Ado Annie.”

“Well, I can hope, right?” His grin softened. “You’re a good kid. You got more of me than your Daddy in you, so naturally I believe that. Don’t let yourself get in the way tonight, and this Faith girl will see it, too.”

“I know.” He toyed with his bottle cap. “It’s just been a while since I tried this hard.”

“And you’ve been lonely.” Grandpa’s sigh was heavy. “I know I’m partly at fault for that, but maybe it’s time to let your guard down a little.”

Kyle’s palms grew slick with sweat. “Maybe.”

“It’ll be fine. Hear me? You’re okay, kid. You are. That incident before ninth grade with what’s her name from camp? That’s history.”

“You call it an incident, I call it a crash and burn.” Kyle could still remember Cara’s face when he took her for a moonlit stroll down to the canoe dock and made his move so badly she wouldn’t speak to him again. “The last time I tried to kiss a girl, she fell into a lake.”

“So? That girl moved on. You need a fresh start.” Grandpa squeezed his shoulder. “All right, heart-to-heart over. Go hit the shower. You have a girl to woo.”

The memory of Cara coming up from the water, spluttering curses, was too much to take, so he joked it away. “Woo? Who even says that anymore?”

Grandpa glared at him. “You can impress her. Take it a step at a time.”

He rolled his eyes. “We’ll see.”

The Charger’s engine always growled before he cut the ignition, and a curtain cracked open at the front of Faith’s house. No turning back now—they knew he was here. Kyle pulled his cell phone from his pocket. One text: All set. South door open. Casey knows you’re coming.

Good. His surprise was still in the works. Rolling his shoulders to relieve a little of the tension keeping them bunched around his ears, he climbed out of the car and headed to the front porch. Proof that someone had been watching, Mr. Gladwell opened the door two seconds after Kyle’s knock.

He stood there staring Kyle down for a second. Behind him, on the dining room table, was the most beautiful bow Kyle had ever seen. Blood red fiberglass, obviously expensive, and in perfect fighting shape. A fletching kit for making arrows was laid out next to it. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

Olympic archer. Right. “Hello, sir. Could I…um, is Faith here?”

Mr. Gladwell’s eyebrow inched up, and he crossed his arms. “Yes, but only if you answer two questions.”

Oh, shit. He was nervous enough, for God’s sake. “Okay.”

“One, you’ll have my daughter home by curfew, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Two, you won’t take her anywhere dangerous, correct?”

“Correct. It’s just dinner, sir.”

The man’s face relaxed into a smile. “I have to do that with every kid my girls date. If they give me attitude, I know they’re no good.”

“So, uh, I passed?”

“Kyle, you called me ‘sir.’ You definitely passed. Come on in.”

His heart thundered in his chest like he’d run for third on a long drive to the corner of right field, praying he wouldn’t get thrown out. Faith’s dad was acting completely normal now, like nothing had happened. This man had one sick sense of humor.

“Hi, Kyle.” Mrs. Gladwell glided into the room and gave his arm a squeeze. “The yard is looking lovely.”

He managed a laugh. “Even with the grass pulled up?”

“Especially with the grass pulled up. I’m really pleased.”

“Thanks.”

Mrs. Gladwell didn’t acknowledge him. She was staring at the dining room table with her eyes narrowed. “Gavin, please tell me you didn’t do the thing where you try to put the fear of God into Faith’s date by making arrows at my dining room table again.”

“I’m not putting the fear of God into anyone,” Mr. Gladwell said, smirking. “I’m putting the fear of meeting God into these boys.”

A flush climbed Kyle’s neck and flooded his face with heat. Sweat prickled on his nose. “Should I, uh, say my prayers, sir?”

Mr. Gladwell burst out laughing. “Okay, I like this one. Much better than the other kid.”

“His name was Cameron,” Mrs. Gladwell said, shooting a sidelong look at Kyle. “And we probably shouldn’t be discussing him.”

“Good, because that kid was a punk,” Mr. Gladwell muttered before he waved and disappeared into the living room.”

Mrs. Gladwell shook her head, smiling. “You’ll have to forgive him. Raising three girls makes for an overprotective—and warped—father.”

Kyle nodded, relieved the conversation was over and wondering where he should put his hands. Behind his back? Clasped in front? Folded in prayer that Faith would come down soon, before he had to make small talk? Which was so stupid, because he did business with her mom. He had no trouble talking about plants, but now that they were “the parents,” standing here with either of them, shooting the breeze, was pure torture.

“Sorry I’m late!”

Faith came in, and Kyle’s heart stopped. She’d let her hair down, instead of pulled back in a bun, and her mile-long legs were on full display in a pair of skinny jeans. Her cheeks were slightly pink, but she looked happier and more chill than he’d seen since he met her. He was doing the right thing, asking her out, so he should probably chill, too.

He must’ve been staring, because Mrs. Gladwell stifled a laugh and said, “You kids have fun.”

Smiling, she left for the living room, too. Now they were alone. Kyle couldn’t think of a word to say. Faith was looking him up and down, smiling.

A few more seconds passed before Mr. Gladwell called, “You two going or do you want to stay here and play Yahtzee?”

They laughed. “We’re leaving, Dad,” Faith called back. “Geez, whoever heard of a father kicking her daughter out on a date.”

And with that, they stepped out onto her front porch. She shut the door behind them, then turned to face him. “So, now what?”

He smiled slowly, finally feeling his confidence return. “It’s still a surprise.”