blood from a turnip. The smartass in me wanted to squeeze back twice as hard. But for Mina's sake, I didn't.
Instead, I grinned up at him, as if to say, "That's all you've got, old man?"
Turns out, it wasn't. By the time he was done, my hand was numb and tingling. When he finally let go, he flicked his head toward the rear of the car and said, "Now come on. Let's go check it."
Obviously, he meant the trunk. Shit.
Still, I could be a good sport, right? I looked to Mina and said, "Hang on. I'll be right back."
Outside the car, the guy didn't waste any time. When I opened the trunk, he gave it only a cursory glance before turning to face me. "Nice hammer."
If he meant the one in the trunk's tool pouch, I knew it was nice. It was our top seller, and I'd had a hand in its design.
In a careful voice, I replied, "Thanks."
"Care if I borrow it?"
I did, actually – because judging from the look in his eyes, the only thing he wanted to hammer was my face. But hell if I'd be the one to show fear. With a loose shrug, I said, "Sure. Go ahead."
As I watched, he reached into the trunk and pulled the hammer from the pouch. He held the hammer loose in his big, meaty hand, as if testing its weight, before he raised it like a weapon.
I didn't flinch, but fuck knows I wanted to.
"So," he said, "You do this a lot?"
"Do what a lot?"
"Suck face on the side of the road?"
I gave the hammer a wary glance. "We weren't sucking face."
"That's one opinion. Not mine."
He wasn't the only one with an opinion. And it was time to remind him of something. "In case you forgot, your daughter's twenty-five, not fifteen."
"I know," he said, "which is why I'm being so friendly about it."
Oh, yeah? If this was friendly, I'd hate to see the opposite. Still, he wasn't the only one who was getting pissed off. "Yeah, well, I'm being friendly, too."
He looked toward the car's front passenger's side, where his daughter was still sitting, talking to her mom through the open window. The dad looked back to me and said, "Shit. If you were any 'friendlier,' you'd be buck naked."
On this, the guy might have a point, but hell if I'd admit it.
The truth was, I'd fallen down on the job, not by kissing Mina on the roadside, but by getting so lost in her kiss that I hadn't kept a better eye on our surroundings.
It was a mistake, one I wouldn't be making again – but not because of her dad. It was just smarter to keep an eye out, that's all.
When my only reply was a tight shrug, her dad lowered the hammer and announced, "I'm keeping this."
I frowned. What the hell?
I didn't care about the hammer. I had a million more where that came from. But obviously, there was more to the story. I just didn't know what.
I replied, "Oh, yeah? Why?"
"Because," he said, "if you ever hurt my daughter, I know exactly where I'll be shoving this thing." He grinned. "And just so you know, the handle goes last."
I drew back. What the ever-loving fuck?
What does a guy say to that?
Nothing, as it turned out, because just then, Mina's mom, along with Mina, joined us at the rear of the car. Mina's mom lowered her head and peered into the trunk. "Well…" she said in a cheerful sort of way. "What do ya know? No dead body."
The dad muttered, "Not yet."
Mina spoke up. "I never said it was dead."
In unison, we all turned to look.
She cleared her throat. "I just mean, if it were dead, it wouldn’t be thumping, right?"
For a long moment, no one said a word. Finally, it was the mom who broke the silence. "Alrighty then." She looked back to me and said, "Anyway, it was nice meeting you. You should come by for dinner sometime." And with that, she claimed her husband's hand – the one not holding the hammer – and practically dragged him back to the truck.
When the truck finally rumbled away, Mina turned to me with a smile, "You know what? That didn't go half as bad as I feared."
I frowned. What on Earth had I gotten myself into?
It was a good question – one I was asking again early the next morning when I was ambushed by four more family members, except this time, they were