Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
He’s probably not wrong. Dad is used to me being a do-now-think-later kind of person, but I think announcing I’m in a relationship with nine men he’d never heard about let alone met was a step too far. To be fair, I think it would be a step too far for all dads.
"Don’t be," I say. "He’s going to love you all, after he’s sized you up and given you a grilling about your intentions." I laugh, but that’s likely to be exactly what happens. "Anyway, he’s like half the size of one of you. I think if anyone is likely to be nervous, it’s Dad, coming face to face with so many huge and imposing young men."
"Has he met Kyla’s crew?" Logan shifts on his feet and bites his lip, and I have to rest a hand on his arm to help him relax.
"No," I say. "Although I was upfront with him about her living situation as soon as I knew it was serious. I’m not a big believer in keeping secrets." Logan arches a masculine brow, his intense eye casting doubt on my statement. "Or at least, I should say I wasn’t a big believer in keeping secrets until…"
I trail off and Logan nods. "I understand," he says. "You don’t have to say anymore."
I’m about to apologize for the millionth time for the way I kept all my gorgeous Cloud 9 men hanging, but I know he doesn’t need to hear it. Just being together for the last six months has more than wiped away those terrible memories.
"Dad," I squeal, spotting his familiar shape, thinning hair and eyes that match the color of mine exactly. I dash toward him, surprised at my instinct, and he drops the handle to his suitcase and wraps me in a fierce hug that knocks the wind from my chest.
"There’s my girl," he murmurs, kissing the top of my head. Compared to my men, Dad’s frame seems small and frail, but he is over fifty now and more of a runner than a weight trainer.
"Dad, this is Logan." I hold my hand out to the man who was instrumental in helping me face my greatest fear, who inspired me to reach out for my destiny and face it with courage, whatever it might hold.
"Logan." Dad holds out his hand and gives a purposefully firm handshake. "Thank you."
I blink for a second, wondering what he means. Then he claps his spare arm against Logan’s and pulls him into a hug. "Thank you for helping Dawn. You achieved what I failed, and I’ll always be grateful for that."
"Dad!" I rest my hand on his shoulder, feeling choked up, and when Logan is released, his eyes are glassy.
"Let’s get on the road, Mr. Mitchell. You must be exhausted."
When we get to Cloud 9, I watch my dad sweep the place, taking in everything with an approving gaze. He’s traditional in a lot of ways and knowing I’m going to be taken care of is important to him. "This is quite a place," he says, as he shakes hands with Lachlan.
"We’re relieved it’s still in our hands," Lachlan says.
Dad nods somberly. "Dawn filled me in on what’s been happening. Terrible thing you’ve all been going through."
"We’re turning a corner," Lachlan says, looking pointedly at me. "Thanks to Dawn’s journalist contact and the exposure she got us, Barrow is on trial for three sexual assaults and five shady property deals. Last week, the mayor committed to investigating the planning department. That’s been a major turning point."
"Public pressure can be a great motivator," Dad says, moving on to shake Mitchell’s hand, then Coopers, and Thomas. They each introduce themselves and Dad apologizes in advance for how terrible he is with names.
"Maybe they should wear badges with their names," I suggest and Dad nods enthusiastically, even though I was joking.
"That would help me a lot," he says, and we all laugh.
We can’t all take the night off, but Lachlan arranges cover for half of us, so I get to take Dad for dinner at our favorite restaurant with Bradley, Thomas, Mitchell, and Jared.
All the nerves that have been buzzing around in my stomach like a swarm of locusts fly away because, despite all my concerns, Dad gets on well with everyone.
He talks with Jared about the time he spent in London in the nineteen nineties, raving about Cornish pasties and sausage rolls and scones with jam and cream. He compares grilling marinades with Bradley and talks music with Thomas. He laughs with Mitchell, who always seems to find the perfect joke to tell for every new person he meets. I sit back and watch each of my men bond with my father, and the fluttering anxiety is eventually replaced with warmth.
We walk home, our bellies full, and I slide my arm into Dad’s, remembering how my mom used to do the same. I’m her height now, with her hair color and her curves. Sometimes, I catch myself in a shop window or a bathroom mirror and, for a fraction of a second, I think I see her looking back at me.