All of us had stopped eating our sandwiches, completely hooked on my parent’s love story.
“I did,” he said, smiling at the fond memory.
“What happened next? What did mom do?”
“What do you think she did?” He snorted and rubbed his cheek as if it flamed with memory. “She slapped the dickens out of me. I never stopped pursuing her. Took me a full year to get her to go on a date with me, and she only agreed so I’d shut up.”
“And here you are,” I said.
“And here I am. I told her I was the love of her life after the kiss, and she didn’t believe me.”
“Way to prove her wrong, Mr. N!” Oliver hollered and held his hand up for a high five that my dad met with equal vigor.
Then dad frowned and tossed his sandwich down. “I was an insensitive teenage boy, and we are assholes for the most part. I don’t like Easton, I hold a grudge for what he did to you, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t grown into a fine man. I’ve heard good things about him around town, but you’re my baby. I’m always on your side. Still, men aren’t worth it. I had to prove myself to your mom. I wasn’t worthy for her at the time, and she knew it.”
As much as I wanted my own love story, I wanted my own life more. Dad was right; dating could wait. It was time to get my feet planted on the ground, get myself settled, and then maybe I could open my heart to someone.
I stood on my tiptoes and gave my dad a kiss on the cheek. “Well, I hope to find a guy like you one day dad. How about we finish painting the room? And then later, I want to look at property available downtown for a boutique.”
“Would you be hiring by any chance?” Oliver asked, crossing his legs at the knee. “I got fired from the coffee shop for writing ‘fuck you’ on a coffee cup.”
“Oliver, you can’t write that on a coffee cup. It’s rude.”
“Well, so was a guy that called me a faggot,” Oliver said in a small, insecure voice. He picked at the sapphire polish that painted his nails. “Small town bigots, you know. They never go away,” he whispered.
Anger bubbled up inside me from someone being so small-minded. Oliver was a kind person. One that deserved to be treated equally. He was bright, just like the rainbow, and he wasn’t afraid to be himself, but there were people around here that didn’t have the same beliefs as we did.
I pulled him in for a hug and rubbed his slender back. He really needed to gain weight. He was getting too skinny. Jeez, I sounded like my mom. “Of course, you a
lways have a place with me. You’d have to be serious. No slacking. This is my dream we are talking about.”
He clapped his hands together, and tears swam in his eyes. “Really?” He reached for my hands and held on tight, popping a few of my fingers. “It will be my dream too. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Pay will suck at first,” I warned.
“That’s okay. I’ll live. Thank you, Luna. I know I don’t have to worry about getting fired for protecting myself with you.”
I gave a sharp nod and lifted my chin. “Damn straight. If anyone gives you a hard time, either kick them out on their ass or send them to me. I have a mean left hook.” I balled up my fists, and my dad reached over and plucked my thumbs out of my fists.
He patted my arm. “Unless you want your thumbs broken, I recommend you keep them across your fingers, Star. I’ve failed as a father if I haven’t taught you how to hit.”
Okay, so I might not have a mean left hook.
But it was the thought that mattered, right?
Chapter Eight
Easton
“Yes ma’am. Anytime, Ms. Williams,” I climbed down from the ladder that was currently leaning against a tree and held the cat out for Ms. Williams to take. I came out here every damn week. I wasn’t sure what the cat was trying to do, but at this point, I thought it was just fucking with me, so I had to help it down.
“Oh, you’re such a sweet man, Easton.” Her old voice shook with age as she petted the top of the cat’s head. “I appreciate you saving Mr. Hemsworth.”
I held back my laughter from the cat's name and just kept a smile on my face. “It’s what I’m here for Ms. Williams.” She was a sweet lady. Her husband died a year ago, and she was always calling the fire department for some reason.
The cat.
Her stove wouldn’t turn on.