Chapter Twenty-Two

It took Violet a handful of seconds to figure out where she was.

Different ceiling than at Maisy’s, and then there were the warm bodies. A large male with dark disheveled hair, strong arms, and massive legs rested against her right side. She was tempted to drag her toes up his calf, but the canine curled on top of her feet prevented it.

Both she and Trouble had been told there were no dogs on the bed, but evidently Trouble had conveniently forgotten.

As if her German shepherd puppy sensed she’d awoken, he perked up his head. One of his brown-and-black ears flopped over in that ridiculously adorable way that it did, and Violet patted her stomach and whispered, “Come here, buddy.”

Pyro also lifted his head from his doggy bed on the floor.

Violet wondered how much trouble she’d get in if she told Pyro he could join them.

Before she could deliberate the pros and cons, Trouble bounded onto her chest and went to licking her face.

Ford grumbled as he cracked open an eye. “Pretty sure I told you two that there were no dogs allowed on the bed. You baby him too much.”

“That makes sense, since he is a baby. Aren’t you?” Violet scratched all the way down her puppy’s back, ears to haunches. “You’re my baby, but don’t tell Ford, okay? He thinks I shouldn’t get attached, but it’s too late for that, isn’t it?”

“I can see that. He’s also doin’ the kissing that I should be doing.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to both of you about the amount of tongue you use.”

“That’s it.” Ford rolled on top of her, pinning her body to the mattress. “Not so funny now, are we?”

Trouble had abandoned her, running off to join Pyro in his bed—or possibly to try to kick him out, since he didn’t seem to understand he was much smaller than the big black dog.

Thanks to Ford’s large frame squishing the air out of her, Violet’s giggle came out low and strangled. Yet she craved him pushing her deeper into the softness. To use that tongue she’d teased him about.

She wound her arms around Ford’s neck and basked in the weight of him. The coarse hair and protruding veins and the musky scent that made thoughts hard to keep hold of. “I was going to say that I like it very much. I mean, I’m glad that you don’t lick my chin like Trouble, but—”

The tip of Ford’s tongue hit the base of her neck. He flattened it and dragged it up to the sensitive spot under her ear, one long, wet lick that had her clenching her thighs.

“Never mind,” she breathed. “Obviously you already know what I like.”

Ford devoured her mouth, delving and exploring, tasting and taking. He was so responsive toward every moan, and before long, they were tangled up in round two of sexy sleepover fun.

By the time they fell back to the mattress to catch their breath, the dogs—two of whom had been kicked out when heated kisses turned into lovemaking—began pawing at the door. Ready for food and attention, no doubt. At least they had the doggy door so they could use the bathroom as the urge hit them.

Ford climbed out of bed, opened the drawer to his dresser, and grabbed a pair of boxer briefs.

As she was pulling on her panties, he stared and made a mmm, mmm, mmm sound. “A guy could get used to this view.”

With a quick jerk, Ford yanked on his jeans and stalked toward her. Shirtless, the top button of his pants undone. When he reached her, instead of putting on his T-shirt, he slipped it over her head. Then he pressed his lips to hers.

“Hungry?”

“Starving. All that hiking and hot sex really works up an appetite.”

“Damn straight,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading her into the living room.

Since Violet was more qualified to prepare dog food than eggs, she fed them and then headed into the kitchen to watch Ford move from the fridge to the stove.

Sunlight streamed in from the window over the sink, highlighting every muscle and groove in his naked torso. He placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her and then circled the counter and sat beside her with his own plate.

Violet swallowed a bite of food as she gathered enough courage to ask the question she’d yet to ask. If she was going to truly consider staying in Uncertainty, she needed to know that meant commitment. Slowly integrating their lives by doing typical couple activities.

Not that she wanted to test Ford, but she also didn’t want to make the same mistakes she’d made before. Ever since the run-in with Cheryl at the bazaar, she’d had a hard time not fretting over the bakery’s grand reopening.

“Do you have plans on Thursday evening? Full disclosure: I kinda have a favor to ask.”

Ford twisted on the stool, his knee bumping into hers. “Well, you’re not wearing pants, so the odds are in your favor.”

Okay, big breath in, big breath out… “So you know how my father and I have a strained relationship?” Completely rhetorical, since she’d made it clear, so she kept on spilling her guts. “And in case you didn’t notice after the bazaar, that goes double for Cheryl. She seriously tried to bribe me to leave town.”

Ford clenched his jaw. “Typical Hurst move. Throw money at their problems to make them go away.” His fork hit his empty plate. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

His clear and present anger turned her into a boneless pile of a girl. “It’s okay. I appreciate it, actually.”

Time to ask him her question and see if he was the type of guy who’d show up.

“Anyway, Maisy’s having this sign-hanging and reopening event for the bakery at four o’clock. It was Cheryl’s idea, and my dad will be there to perform his mayoral role of cutting the ribbon, and to support Maisy, of course. I could use a hand to hold.” Violet gnawed on her lower lip. “Would you go with me? It’ll be easier to deal with everything with you there, and that way I don’t have to take on my dad and Cheryl alone.”

“I’ll be there,” he said.

Violet almost let the rest of what she wanted to say slide. But that stupid “shame on me” phrase bounced through her head, reminding her that she had to learn from past mistakes.

“While I’m sure this will shock you, I have some issues…” Violet arched an eyebrow, warning him not to comment. “Trust issues, mainly.” Her anxiety left her internal organs in tatters, targeting the air in her lungs until it’d eaten away the last of her reserves. “While I’d love to say everything was all Benjamin’s fault and he’s the only reason we fell apart, I didn’t always tell him what I needed. I made my fair share of mistakes, too…”

Like bashing in his car. A subject for another time, because her point was heavy enough without that fun tidbit in the mix.

“My dad’s also broken promises, and it’s made me realize how badly I need a guy who shows up.” She fiddled with the hem of the oversize T-shirt Ford had put on her, restless energy getting the best of her.

Ford grabbed her hand and folded it into his. “Hey. It’s my job to show up.”

“Yes, but I need you to show up not only because it’s your job but because you do what you say. Because you want to be there for me.”

Ford lifted her knuckles and placed a featherlight kiss atop them. “For you, Vi, I’ll always show up. I promise.”

Oxygen gradually returned to her lungs, and right as she opened her mouth in an attempt to find the words to express how much that meant to her, the dogs went wild barking.

Then a loud knock split the air.

…

Ford answered the door and immediately wished he hadn’t when he saw his father on the other side. The happiness that’d been on full blast since last night evaporated, his worries rising up and poking holes in it.

A visit meant Dad wanted something, and Violet was here, and the pedestal she’d put him on—while it felt damn nice—was about to get kicked out from underneath him.

“What do you want?” Ford asked.

“Is that any way to greet your dear old dad?”

Ford glanced over his shoulder, which was a mistake. Not only did it provide the opportunity for Dad to charge inside, it implied he wasn’t alone.

“You got company?” Dad asked, confirming Ford had been busted.

“Yeah. Take a seat and give me a second.”

Ford padded into the kitchen, but all he found were empty plates. He hustled down the hall to his bedroom, where Violet was pulling on her jeans.

“I’m sorry about this,” Ford said.

“About what?”

“You’re about to meet my dad. I wish I could better prepare you, but…” He sighed. “I’m not even sure that’s possible.”

Angel that she was, Violet wrapped her arms around his waist. “I can handle it. Especially now that I have pants on.”

“Shame, that. But if it’ll help…” He kissed her forehead, soaking in her scent and the way her embrace soothed his rankled nerves.

While he could linger forever, it’d be better to get this whole awkward meeting over with. He took her hand and led her to the living room.

Under other circumstances, the shock on his father’s face might be comical.

Ford cleared his throat. “Dad, this is Violet. Violet, my father, Jimmy McGuire.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, smoothing a hand down her sleep-tangled hair.

After a beat, Dad found his manners, stood, and extended a hand. “Uh, you, too. You look familiar. You’re a Hurst, aren’t you?”

“I go by Abrams, but Mayor Hurst is my biological father.”

Dad nodded. His eyes narrowed as he studied the two of them, and Ford wrapped a protective arm around Violet’s shoulders.

“Looks like I interrupted somethin’, so I’ll get right to it. Gunner and I are headed to the hills and need to borrow your four-wheeler. Mine’s still having clutch issues.”

“Sure,” Ford said.

“Might need some help loading it.”

“I should head to the bakery anyway,” Violet said. “I warned Maisy that I’d be late, but I don’t want to leave her hanging.” She gave Ford a quick peck. “Oh, and don’t forget the planning meeting tonight at six.”

“Shit, I totally spaced on that. Lexi would’ve killed me.”

“In other words, I’m saving you now.”

In more than one way.

Violet patted his chest. “Can you pick up a bottle of rosé on your way over? That way Lexi feels appreciated. Plus, Priscilla and Lucia probably don’t drink beer or whiskey, and as you already know, I’m in that same boat, too.

“Pratsch or Château La Cardonne—Endless Crush by Inman is my favorite. Not sure they’d have that in this tiny town, since it’s on the pricey end and only a limited number of bottles were made.” Violet tapped a finger to her lips. “I’m sure you won’t remember those off the top of your head anyway, so I’ll text you.”

Reluctantly, Ford escorted her to the door.

As soon as she’d left, Dad said, “Mayor Hurst’s daughter? Really? You sure can pick ’em.” Bitterness pinched his features. “And did I hear the word wedding? I taught you better than to get caught up in one of those.”

“Addie and Tucker’s wedding. It’s weekend after next.” If Dad thought he was going to discuss Violet or dive into the subject of love, he was sorely mistaken. “Come on. That four-wheeler isn’t going to load itself.”

The dogs thought he meant them, and all four made a mad dash for the door. Ford went ahead and opened it, letting them out and waiting for Dad to hop to.

Dad lumbered on over, but instead of heading outside, he paused at the threshold. “You’re not gettin’ serious with that girl, are ya?”

Ford hesitated a beat too long.

“Not a good idea, son. For one, that family ain’t never gonna accept you.”

The urge to correct the double negative flickered—not like it’d make any difference. When it came to tirades against relationships, Dad could go on all day. “Violet’s not even close to her family, save Maisy. And I’m a big believer that a person is more than who they’re related to.”

Dad guffawed. “Just because you run around playing hero doesn’t mean people forget who you are. You think you’re so much better than me and your brothers, but you can’t even learn from our mistakes.”

Years of history choked the air. Sure, he wished his family the best. That didn’t mean he was going to get sucked into the toxic dick-measuring environment he’d grown up in. Who was stronger? Faster?

Sometimes it seemed like they competed for whose life was the best, and other times whose was worst.

Finally, Dad stepped onto the porch, and Ford resisted the urge to shove him on down the sidewalk so this would be over already.

“I couldn’t help but notice she gave you a honey-do list,” Dad said. “That’s what women call ’em, but really they’re marchin’ orders. Today she’s ordering you around, demanding fancy wines while implying you’re a dumb redneck who won’t remember the right brand. Next thing you know, it’ll be new furniture and remodeling the kitchen…

“Your ma was that way. When we got hitched, she claimed all she needed was love. Less than a year in and it was ‘when are we gonna get a bigger, nicer house?’ and ‘I need to go into the city and buy new clothes’ and on and on until we were broker than we started out. And still nothin’ made her happy.”

Ford’s sigh failed to carry away his frustration over this line of conversation. That type of fights made up the majority of his memories from when he was younger. His parents arguing about who worked the hardest, each attempting to win, when, truth be told, everyone involved lost.

Including him and his brothers, who bore the brunt of the anger from whomever hadn’t stormed out first.

“Violet’s not like that,” Ford said. “You don’t even know her.”

“All women are like that. In the beginning they put their best foot forward, all sugar and spice, showcasing their best behavior. Basically they’re a shiny lure, and once you commit and take a big ol’ bite, you discover the hook hidden in the bling.

“That’s when they flip that crazy switch and it’s nag, nag, nag. Pick a fight over any and everything. Tell you that you need to change. It’s taken me two failed marriages”—Dad held up his fingers as if otherwise Ford would be lost—“and one broken engagement to learn that.”

Luckily, they’d reached the four-wheeler ramp. Ford maneuvered it onto the open tailgate of Dad’s truck. He fired up the four-wheeler, lined up the tires, and rode into the bed.

From there, Ford shoved the ramps on either side so Dad could get the vehicle in and out himself. “There you go. Just drop it off whenever you’re done.”

Dad placed a hand on Ford’s shoulder, and when Dad’s eyes met his, at least they were more white than bloodshot today. Which inconveniently fractured the assertion his old man’s words were nothing but hot air. “I’m all for enjoying that beginning, fun part of relationships—hell, I’m addicted to the rush myself. But as soon as she mentions weddings and babies, it’s time to cut and run. Serious relationships always bring about fights, and once kids get thrown in the mix, forget it. Soon it gets messier and messier, until neither of you recognize who you’ve become.”

Dad fell silent, the twitch of his lips signaling he was fighting his emotions, something Ford had witnessed all of once before.

The day Ford informed Dad that he’d talked to Grandma Cunningham and not only was Ma never coming home, she was engaged to some rich dude.

For years, he’d attempted to stay out of the middle of his parents’ fights, and the one time he actually wanted to rant about Ma, Dad had fallen apart.

And now he was thinking of Doris’s words in a different way. She’d mentioned missing her husband for the past ten years and how hard life was without him. How she wanted to go be with him, since she was sure he was waiting.

What if the real risk with love was that you eventually ended up losing yourself? Feeling like half a person? Ford’s breaths came fast and shallow, dizziness setting in as he struggled to maintain control of his lungs.

“You’ve made a good life for yourself,” Dad gruffly said. “One where you get to enjoy havin’ your adventures. Girls like Violet, they expect the finer things in life. Sooner or later, it’ll become an issue. Just…be careful.”

Ironic that Dad chose the word careful now, instead of during Ford’s younger years when Dad let him and his brothers run wild in the woods.

“As for me…” Dad clapped him on the back, his features free of emotions once again. “I’ve decided when it comes to my addictions, between women and alcohol, booze is the safer bet.”

With that lovely sentiment hanging in the air, Dad climbed into his truck and took off, and Ford stood there telling himself that he was just a cynical old man.

Even as he started to wonder if he truly knew what he’d gone and gotten himself into.