Page 145 of Huckleberry Hill
“Oh,” I said with a sigh. “That’s good.”
She frowned.
“What?” I demanded.
“There’s no pistol in the glove box, right?”
“Muddy!”
“Well,” she shrugged, “there’s two ways this can go. We’ll just have to wait and see which one your father chooses.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Ranch
* * *
It was three in the morning, and I’d read the same page of my book four times. I finally cast it aside and turned on the TV.
I was in the den, curled up on the couch, waiting for my father and boyfriend to come home.
Muddy had gone to bed hours ago and I’d eaten half the Boston cream pie in one sitting.
I heard the engine of the old farm truck. I waited a few minutes to see if Dad would come inside, but he didn’t.
Frowning in confusion, I got up to investigate. I looked out the window and saw the truck parked outside Declan’s cabin.
My fingers fell from the curtain and I went back to the couch. Twenty minutes later, the front door opened and closed softly.
There was the clod of footsteps across the wooden floor and then my father appeared in the doorway of the den.
“I thought you’d be asleep,” he said.
“No, you didn’t.” I lifted the remote and turned off the TV.
He smiled lightly. “You’re right. I hoped you’d be asleep. Not the same thing, I guess.”
Dad came into the room and sat down on the couch next to me.
“What did you do to Declan?” I asked.
“Got him stinking drunk and then asked him a bunch of questions,” he said, running a hand across his stubbly jaw.
“Dad,” I groaned. “You didn’t.”
“I did. He thought we were drink for drink. But I had Wade pour apple juice in mine instead of bourbon. I took Declan to the cabin. Got him in his bed. Made sure to put water, aspirin and a trash can nearby. There’s a real good chance he’s going to vomit. Though he swore up and down he wasn’t a puker.”
I rubbed my eyes.
“You should probably spend the night over there, just to make sure he’s okay.”
“Dad,” I whispered, lunging for him and wrapping my arms around his neck.
I pulled back and wiped the tears from my eyes.
“No one is going to be good enough for you, Hadley,” he said, his voice sounding suspiciously thick. “But I have to let you make your own decisions. I have to let you choose. And of all the men you could have chosen, I’m glad it’s Declan.”
“Had to get him drunk and talking to admit that, huh?” I asked with a laugh.
