As we start to pass, I inch toward her. Our shoulders brush and her gaze snaps to mine, the first time she’s laid her solid blue eyes on me. My heart stops beating. I switch my focus forward, keep walking past then pause, reaching out to lightly touch her wrist.
She jolts with the touch, and I have to admit I shake, too. She whips her head back to look at me. I regretfully drop my hand from her wrist and offer her the rose. “You dropped this.”
Ms. Whitlock blinks, confused. “No, I didn’t.”
I keep my hand outstretched, and my eyes glued on hers. “You must have. Someone as pretty as you deserves a rose.”
Her eyes smile first, then a sarcastic smirk slips across her lips. “That’s a terrible line.”
I crack a crazy grin. “Yeah, but it was worth it.”
“Why?”
I shrug one shoulder because I’m out of corny come-ons. “So I could talk to you.” I shift to extend the rose further to her. She’s hesitant, but she accepts.
Because even I’m aware that if I stick around I’ll find a way to screw this moment up, I wink at her and walk away.
It’s hard not to look back at her for the first few feet forward. Doing so will kill any credibility and mystery I hope to create. Yet I lose all self-control by the time I hit the folding chairs. I glance back, and I’m rewarded with the sight of her lifting the rose to her nose to inhale.
Takes everything I have not to lift my arms in the air to signal that I just scored. But I can’t celebrate. I have yet to ask her out, and she has yet to say yes.
Chapter 12
Eli
Watching my daughter laugh is one of my favorite sights. Her head back, smile across her face, her entire body shakes with laughter. It’s a gift I never knew I wanted, and now I can’t imagine living without.
It still takes my breath away to say those words—my daughter. Emily. She’s here, in Kentucky, at my clubhouse, and I’m still in awe that she willingly spends time with me.
Little over a year ago, I never would have guessed she’d be here, much less an actual part of my life. I thought I had screwed up my relationship with her beyond repair years ago, but I didn’t, and now I get to watch her laugh. Whatever part of my soul I unknowingly sold for this was worth the cost of admission.
Emily sits on the top of the picnic table in the middle of the grass halfway between Dad’s house and the clubhouse. Beside her is Oz. His arm is wrapped around her, and while I can’t admit I’m thrilled she’s so attached to someone at the age of eighteen, I can admit that if she had to fall for somebody, I’m glad it’s Oz.
He’s a good man. Works hard. Adores my daughter. Treats her with respect, and gives her enough room to live life without him on her toes. Plus, being that he’s part of the club and I have seniority, I can threaten to rip his arms out of their sockets without having to worry about the police being called in for harassment.
“Do you feel old looking at them?”
I can’t keep the surprise off my face when Chevy’s mom, Nina, walks up the steps of Dad’s house and sits on the top step about a foot away from me. When my brother James died before Chevy’s birth, Nina did her best to avoid my family and the club. She only associated with us on a have-to basis. With all the shit that went down with Chevy this year, we’ve talked more, but most of that was fighting over what was best for her son—my nephew.
Chevy found a way to shut us both up, and I respect him for that. I also respect Nina for loving her son and standing by his side, and for coming here tonight for his graduation party. She’s not a fan of the club, but she’s a fan of her son, and it’s nice that both of us are waving the white flag. Giving peace a chance is a good change of pace. God knows I’m tired of complicated.
“Do they make me feel old?” I repeat the question she asked me, feeling it out. I study the group of teenagers ready to take on the world. It feels like yesterday when me, Oz’s parents, Emily’s mom, Meg, and my brother, James,