The Troublemaker - Cathryn Fox Page 0,30

her out the best way I can.

Her body grows stiffer as we approach the door, and I give her a little squeeze to let her know I’m here. She smiles up at me, as I open the door to the posh Italian restaurant and usher her in.

“Nice place,” I say when we enter.

“Mom’s favorite,” she tells me as a hostess checks our names and leads us to our table. Drink menus are placed in front of us, but before we can open them, her parents come in behind us.

“Dad, Mom,” she says and stands to give them the world’s most awkward hug. All eyes turn to me when they break apart and I stand for the introduction. “This is Cason Callaghan. My husband. Cason, this is my Dad and Mom, Arthur and Lilith.” I extend my arm, and her father slides his beefy palm into mine as his eyes narrow in on me.

“Cason Callaghan,” he says. “So nice to meet you in person.” He gives me a firm shake and pulls his hand away. “I’ve seen you play.”

“Fan of hockey?”

“Actually, no. I only looked you up after my daughter kindly informed me, over the phone nonetheless, that she married you.”

Alright then. “Well it’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Palmer.” I wait for him to tell me to call him by his first name. He is, after all, my father-in-law, but the offer doesn’t come. I turn my attention to Kinsley’s mother. Her lips are pressed tight, forming a thin pink line. “It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Palmer.”

“Likewise, I’m sure.”

Wow, tough crowd.

I sit down next to Kinsley and put my hand on her thigh, and she grasps it in her sweaty palm. My entire body clenches, hating that she’s so nervous about this.

“So, hockey.” Her father focuses in on me. “How do your parents feel about that?” he asks

“Supportive. Hockey is my passion, and they supported that all through my life. I wouldn’t be a professional without them.”

I can almost hear him rolling his eyes in his mind, not at all impressed by my career choice, like chasing a puck around the ice is a child’s game. But I make a good living and I’m willing to help his daughter—my wife—out when she needs the help.

Kinsley sits up a little straighter. “They won the Stanley Cup this year, Dad.” I take in the eagerness in her eyes as she stares up at her father. After everything, she’s still seeking his approval, but this time it’s for me. I don’t need it. Nor do I want it.

“And that is impressive?” he asks.

I almost laugh at that, but that wouldn’t do Kinsley any good. “I guess not,” I say. “What’s impressive is Kinsley’s skills in the kitchen.”

“Yes, she makes a great taco. So we’ve heard,” her mom says, a hint of disgust attached to her words.

My jaw drops. “Are you saying you’ve never tasted them, never eaten at her truck?”

“We don’t eat at trucks, dear,” Lilith says.

“You’re definitely missing out.”

“It’s okay,” Kinsley says quietly. “They don’t like street food.”

“Maybe not, but I bet they’ll love your new restaurant food. The place is going to be cozy, inviting, and have sit down tables with service.” Kinsley’s body goes so tight, I’m worried she’s going to snap something. What the hell?

“What’s this about a new restaurant?” her father asks, and my heart drops. Shit, was I not supposed to mention that? Fuck me. Here I go saying the wrong things again.

“It’s something I want to do in the future, Dad,” she says, and reaches for her water glass. Her diamond sparkles in the overhead light.

Her mother lifts her chin to see it. “That’s the ring?”

“It is. Isn’t it beautiful,” Kinsley says as she examines it.

“Lovely, dear. Perfect for a Vegas wedding. I suppose Elvis was there?” She gives a humorless laugh. “Your grandmother would have loved that.”

Wow, shitty fucking parents.

“It was a last minute thing, Mom. A spur of the moment decision.”

Lilith gives a glare of disapproval. “Yes, you’re very good at those.”

I put my arm around Kinsley. “I couldn’t wait one more second to make her my bride.”

“Why, is she pregnant?” her father asks, and my temper flares. Is he fucking serious? The disrespect they have for Kinsley makes me want to pummel something. What the fuck is wrong with them?

“No, I’m not pregnant.”

“Thank God for that,” her father bursts out.

“Don’t you want grandkids?” I ask.

The server comes back and we all give our drink order. When we’re alone again, her mother