“I’m glad to see you’re making the best of a bad situation.”
“I was thinking I’d drive you around and show you the campus and some of the sights before dinner,” Mia said.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. I got enough of an eyeful on my way here.”
She should have known her father wouldn’t be interested in seeing where she worked. It shouldn’t hurt to hear him dismiss the suggestion out of hand. And yet, here she was, feeling hurt anyway.
Mia forced a flat smile, refusing to let her father see her disappointment. “Well good. Because there isn’t time if we want to make our reservation.”
“Reservation?” Her father’s eyebrows shot up. “Who knew there was a need for reservations in a town of this size?” He let out a condescending little laugh as his gaze focused on her outfit, taking in her simple slacks and blouse. “Is that what you’re wearing? I hope I’m not overdressed.”
“You’re always overdressed, but I doubt anyone will notice.” Before he could respond, she snatched her purse off the counter and said, “Shall we go? I could use a cocktail before dinner.”
Or five cocktails. Anything to take some of the edge off before her father gave her a rage stroke.
“By all means.” He gestured magnanimously toward the door. “After you, Ace.”
They were forty-five minutes early for their reservation at the steakhouse that Mia had chosen for dinner. Not only was it the nicest restaurant in town, but according to Andie it was also the best, since they sourced their selection of steaks and wild game from local ranches.
Not that it mattered. As soon as they walked through the door, Mia sensed her father’s disdain for the outdated and slightly kitschy hunting lodge decor. She happened to find the rough-hewn log ceilings and antler chandeliers charming, but to her father, who was accustomed to dining at the trendiest restaurants in Manhattan, it must have seemed pathetically provincial.
Fortunately, the restaurant boasted a full bar where they could kill time while Mia got quietly and determinedly drunk. She squirmed on her animal-pelt barstool, sipping vodka tonics while her father bragged about the large gathering he and Mindy had hosted for Thanksgiving and his recent successes at the hedge fund he’d joined last year as a senior executive.
By the time Josh arrived, Mia was on her third drink and desperate for a buffer. As soon as she caught sight of him standing uncertainly in the doorway, she jumped up to wave him over.
“Oh thank god you’re here,” she murmured in his ear as she leaned over to kiss his cheek in greeting.
He gave her arm a squeeze before turning to her father, who’d gotten to his feet and was gazing down at Josh with an expression of cool appraisal. “Hi, I’m Josh Lockhart,” he said, extending his hand.
Her father grasped it in his usual crushing grip. “Dr. Richard Ballentine.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Josh said, his smile never faltering.
Mia enjoyed seeing her father wince a little as he let go of Josh’s hand. It served him right for trying that hypermasculinity handshake crap with Josh. Her father might be able to intimidate pasty businessmen that way, but he was no match for someone who worked outdoors with his hands for a living.
“Shall we go see about our table?” Mia said, grabbing her drink. “They should have it ready by now.”
When she’d made the reservation, she’d requested the most private seating they had, in order to try and make Josh more comfortable. To her relief, the hostess led them to a table tucked away in the far corner of one of the smaller rooms off the main dining room.
“Shame we couldn’t be somewhere a little brighter,” her father grumbled. “At least the view out those windows wasn’t so bad.”
“I like this better.” Mia smiled her approval at the hostess before her father could ask to change tables. “Thank you.”
She’d felt the tension radiating off Josh as they walked through the restaurant, but he seemed to relax a little once they were seated. Her father proposed they order a bottle of wine, then proceeded to spend the next five minutes deriding the wine list before ordering a bottle of champagne he grudgingly deemed drinkable.
“Have you had a chance to see much of Crowder?” Josh asked him once the lengthy wine ordeal had ended.
Her father snorted as he perused his menu. “Hardly any at all. But I must have driven through half a dozen towns like this