Chapter Twenty-One #2
“I don’t care. Wake me up before you leave.”
From the look on her face, I can see she’s serious.
“Okay, I’ll make sure to wake you before I leave in the morning,” I assure her.
“Thank you.”
I look at her face, gauging her feelings. Did we resolve the issue? It hadn’t even occurred to me to wake her. I thought I was being respectful by letting her rest.
“You understand that was our first night together,” she says, seemingly able to read my mind.
“I didn’t think about that. I just wanted you in my bed,” I reply with complete honesty. I give her a half-smile and a shrug.
“Caine!” She giggles. “You’re terrible.” She gives me a little shove when I try to pull her against me.
We fall back, and I nuzzle my face into her neck.
“Are you hungry?” I ask before placing a light kiss on her lips.
“I could eat.” Mikayla graces me with a pretty smile.
Our eyes lock. I want to push the issue further. I want to understand why she was upset. I want to understand whether she was worried or if it was something else.
I haven’t been in a relationship for so long, and clearly the one I had been in before wasn’t exactly healthy. The last thing I want to do is make her upset, give her insecurities. But I also don’t want to ruin the day I have planned.
I decide to hold off, getting the food out until later when we can talk.
I zip up my pants and grab a bottle of hand sanitizer and wash my hands before reaching for my shirt and putting it back on. I open the basket and pull out the folded wooden board and place it on the blanket.
“What did you do?” Mikayla asks, getting to her knees, trying to peek into the basket. I swat her away.
“This is what I was doing this morning,” I explain. “I wanted to do something special. But I didn’t have the stuff for a picnic.”
“Caine,” she whispers as I place the cheeses and meats on the board.
I pull out the bottle of wine and remove the cap. Yes, it’s a twist off, fuck off, I bought wine.
I pour a glass and hand it to her, then sit back and take a sip of the glass I poured for myself. I quirk a brow. It’s not terrible. Actually, it’s quite good.
“Caine?” Mikayla asks, her gaze locked over my shoulder.
I look at her and see the confusion on her face and a small frown on her lips.
“What do you see?” I ask.
“You—thirty years into the future—walking toward us right now.”
Fuck! My pants!
I kneel and buckle my belt. The unmistakable chuckle from my father carries over the wind, and I cringe like a teenager caught with his pants down.
Yeah, I know. I’m a grown-ass man who was caught with his pants down.
I jump to my feet and walk to my dad. “What are you doin’ here?” I whisper angrily, unable to mask my annoyance. I rode out here for privacy!
“Well, hello to you, too,” my father says, ignoring me and walking straight to Mikayla.
Thank God she’s completely dressed, but for her shoes.
“So, you’re the reason my son is only half as ornery as usual,” he says before crashing our picnic and sitting down beside Mikayla.
My mouth drops open when he grabs a slice of salami from the cutting board.
“I’m Mikayla,” my girl says with a smile. “You’re Mr. Montgomery,” she smiles, extending her hand.
“Franklin, darlin’,” my dad says.
“Franklin,” Mikayla repeats with a nod of her head. “But Caine… ornery?” she asks, turning her attention back to me. “You’re not ornery,” she defends.
Obviously, I smile. This woman is something else, defending my ass. I’ve been an asshole lately, that I can’t deny.
I walk back over and sit beside her, pulling her against me. I kiss her brow.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” I say with a smile.
“If he isn’t ornery, what would you call it? The man’s been unbearable for the better part of fifteen years. Sorry, Mikayla, you’re wrong. Your boyfriend here is an asshole,” my dad says, grabbing another slice of salami then licking his fingers.
He doesn’t smile—doesn’t show any sign that he’s joking.
I laugh out loud when Mikayla slaps his hand away when he moves to grab more.
“Hey, he’s your son,” she scolds, though quietly, almost like she’s shocked he said those things about me.
There’s no teasing in Mikayla’s tone, and I can feel her trembling when I pull her against me. My father struck a nerve with her, and I’m guessing it has to do with her mother.
“You care about him,” my dad says, regarding her with a tilt of his head.
“Of course, I do,” she says without question. “He’s kind and opened his home to me when I needed help. He’s a good man. You shouldn’t say things like that about him. He’s your son.”
My father raises a brow at that and looks at me; his matching baby blues directed at me.
He chuckles. “Well, I can assure you, my son is many things; reliable is one of them, but kind is generally not a word we use to describe him,” my dad says.
I know he’s teasing, but Mikayla doesn’t. My father is known for his dry sense of humor.
Mikayla grabs my hand and squeezes.
“Dad, Mikayla doesn’t know your humor. Sweetheart, my dad is just giving me a hard time,” I tell her.
“Oh.” A dark blush forms on her face, moving down her throat to her chest. “I’ll just… excuse me,” she whispers before standing up.
She walks, practically runs, toward the river without looking back.
“Well, you’ve got yourself a little defender in that girl,” he says proudly.
“She didn’t know you were joking around,” I reply, slightly worried.
My dad just nods his head.
“She just lost her father.” I keep my voice low so she won’t hear us talking about her.
My father blanches. “Well, fuck,” my dad mutters. “Really?”
“Yeah, and her mom and her… I’m figuring it all out, just lay off a bit until she’s comfortable,” I tell my father. “You’re very dry.” I remind him.
To my amazement, my father stands up and walks toward her. I’m not about to watch from the sidelines, so I get to my feet and follow.
“Hey, darlin’” my dad says as he approaches her.
“I’m sorry,” Mikayla says. “I’ve normally a good sense of humor. I’m not usually this sensitive. And even I make fun of Caine for being grumpy.” She places both hands on her flushed cheeks. “I called him gramps when we first met!”
Her eyes widen at her confession.
“Well, I can’t say I’m offended you’re defending my son,” he says. “I’m just sorry I upset you. My son is definitely a curmudgeon.”
“I’m being ridiculous,” she says, waving my dad off. “Today has been a weird day.”
My dad turns and looks at me with a scowl. “What did you do?” he asks me, his tone low.
Mikayla reaches out and grabs his arm. “Nothing, Caine did nothing. It’s not about him.”
My brow furrows, and I walk up to Mikayla, cupping her cheeks and lifting her face to regard me.
“What happened?” I ask, my tone brisk.
Her eyes dart to my dad.
“Okay, well, I’ll leave you two, but your mama wants you for dinner,” Dad says.
“We have plans tonight. I told her we had a day planned,” I say with exasperation.
My dad rolls his eyes. “You already spoke to her today?”
“Yes!”
“We can come tomorrow,” Mikayla suggests.
“I’ll let her know,” he replies. “It was good to meet you, Mikayla,” my dad adds.
We watch as he walks away. And now I know why I hadn’t heard him. The man left his horse about half a mile away.
When I know he’s out of earshot, I turn back to Mikayla and ask, “What happened?”