Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
I rise from the table and grab the bag. “Hold that thought—if I don’t chuck this out, it’s going to drive me nuts. Be right back.”
“Earn your keep, Lumberjack,” she teases, tilting her head back so I can peck her on the lips. “I’ll be here.”
I grin as I head outside.
The air is crisp, the kind of morning that smells like fresh dew and pine. After tossing the trash into the bin, I pause for a second, letting myself breathe. Conversations with Lucy are a strange mix of ease and tension—enough push and pull to keep me guessing.
I’m about to head back inside when a deep voice cuts through the quiet.
“Didn’t realize Lucy had someone over.”
I freeze.
Turning slowly, I spot a man standing near the driveway, arms crossed and gaze sharp. He’s older, with a rugged face and the kind of presence that tells me he’s no stranger to making people squirm. Jeans. Flannel shirt pushed up to his elbows. Gray hair at the temples. Bare feet.
Must be her dad.
Shit.
I glance down at myself—also barefoot, wearing pajama pants and nothing else. Not exactly the look of a guy ready to make a good first impression.
“Morning,” I manage, offering a small wave like that’ll help.
He doesn’t smile but states the obvious. “Taking out the trash?”
“Yup.” I nod, trying to play it cool. “Making myself useful.”
That earns me a raised brow. He steps closer, and I can feel the shift in the air—like this is a test I didn’t know I was about to take.
“You from around here?” he asks, like he’s already made a judgment but wants to hear what I’ll say.
“Not exactly,” I admit. “Just visiting.”
“Ahh. With that group at the lodge.” He nods slowly. “Why do you look familiar?”
“I play football.”
He nods again. “Ah. Everyone in town is chirping about the group of giants that have descended upon us.”
“Yes, sir.”
I have no idea how to talk to dads. It’s not the same as speaking to a fan.
I had sex with his daughter, and he knows it.
“You always take out the trash in nothing but pajama pants?” he asks, eyes flicking to my bare chest. Down to my bare feet.
“Only when I’m trying to make a good first impression,” I deadpan.
He stares at me for a second, then lets out a bark of laughter. “Well, at least you’re honest. Ya look like a guy who escaped a house fire.”
Translation: You look like a guy who sleeps naked and decided to throw something on quick out of decency.
“I feel like I’ve escaped a house fire.”
Lucy’s dad snaps his fingers. “Wait a minute. Now I know who you are. Harris Bennett.”
I give him a nod, standing a little taller. “That’s me.”
He grunts, unenthused. “Yeah, I’ve seen you play. Not much of an Arizona fan, though.”
Oh.
Well.
My dick shrivels at his humble praise. He’s not easy to impress, but I respect it.
“Why is a linebacker from Arizona doing chores for my daughter?”
Because we’re friends seems like an idiotic thing to say to his face, given my state of undress.
“Lucy doesn’t bring men home,” he continues without waiting for my answer. “Not often, anyway.”
There’s a weight to his words, one that makes my spine straighten despite the fact that I look like I just rolled out of bed. His daughter’s bed, ha ha.
“I know,” I say honestly. “She told me as much.”
He grunts. “All right, well. It was nice meeting you. Now go put on a damn shirt before my wife catches a glimpse of you through the window and decides to leave me for a younger man.”
I blink. “No threats? No ‘hurt my daughter and I’ll bury you in the backyard’ speech?”
He shrugs. “Eh. I’m getting old. Besides, you’re bigger than me and could kick my ass. Seems like a waste of breath to lecture you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That’s it? I pass?”
He squints at me like he’s reconsidering. “Do you want me to threaten you?”
“Not exactly,” I say, shifting on my feet. “It feels like there should be more. Like a lie detector test in a secret room or have the police chief run a background check on me.”
He stares at me. “You watch too much TV.”
Guilty.
Her dad chuckles. “Relax, kid. If I thought you were a problem, you’d already know.”
“Phew.” I let out a sigh. “That’s a relief.”
“If you screw up,” he goes on, “I won’t have to do a damn thing—Lucy will handle you herself.”
I nod, because: fair point.
“She’s got a good head on her shoulders,” her dad says. “She doesn’t put up with nonsense. So if you’re still standing here, I’m sure that means you’re doing something right.”
“She really doesn’t put up with nonsense. I’ve seen it firsthand.”
Her dad eyes me for another second, weighing his next words. “You seem all right, but I’ve seen plenty of ‘good guys’ turn out to be anything but. I reserve the right to change my mind at any time.”