“Chase, that was amazing.”
“I know.” Now he grinned against my forehead. I was way too tired to call him a cocky bastard. I giggled instead, cherishing my complete state of euphoria. He leaned down and kissed the tip of my nose.
“Hate to interrupt, but it’s 6:30, baby.”
“Ugh, we’re meeting my dad in an hour, crap.” Reveling in the moment, I clung to his chest. His power to abolish every ounce of my anxiety was unfathomable. This man’s arms were my peace.
“My girl really hates the mornings, huh? Go put your eyes in, shower, I’ll find us some coffee.” He swatted my ass.
I slid my naked body off his chest, moaning my displeasure the entire way. I ran a hand through my freshly fucked hair and briskly walked to the bathroom.
“Now that’s one sight I will never tire of.”
I stared at my reflection in the mirror for several moments; I looked happy. More importantly I felt happy. This man was here with me. In Wrangel. He wanted to be. He cared for me, worried about me. I was happier than I had been in my whole life, and ironically, I was in the place I dreaded the most.
We walked into the tiny diner in the center of town that was situated directly across the street from the courthouse. Nothing had changed. It was like time had stood still. Besides a bit more chipped paint and a couple more crooked shutters, the short drive from the motel to the center of town was exactly the same. No one had the time or money to take care of their overgrown, slightly dilapidated properties. A far cry from the perfectly manicured lawns and gardens filling the city parks I was accustomed to. People in Wrangel worked to provide the daily essentials. Eating and spreading town gossip happened to be two pastimes they did not skimp on. That meant the majority of them frequented the diner before heading to their respectable jobs.
Chase opened the dirty glass door and the familiar waft of insanely strong coffee mixed with greasy eggs and bacon reminded me why I avoided diners in Philly. I associated the combined odor with my miserable life in Wrangel.
Toward the back of the restaurant, hidden between the tattered white booth walls, was my father. Tears pricked the back of my eyes as I watched the all too familiar scene play before me. Legs crossed at the ankles and shoulders slightly slumped, he casually flipped through the morning paper and sipped his coffee. Years of hard outdoor work were etched into every deep line and wrinkle on his face. His ruddy cheeks and dark weathered skin were evidence of the long hours he spent in the sun. His short, light brown hair now sprinkled with grey hung loosely across his forehead. Stubble crossed his chin and lip as if he hadn’t shaved for lack of time or care, yet there was always a lightness about him. I stood for several moments before his cloudy blue grey eyes found mine. The corners of his mouth lifted into a small smile as his right eye gave me my quintessential wink. A wink he had been giving me since I was a tiny girl. My smile was instantaneous. Chase’s hand on my lower back nudged me forward. Seconds later I was wrapped in the arms of my dad.
“Babydoll, you’re stunning.” Oddly enough my dad called me a combination of two sentiments I heard on a daily basis. “Let me see you.” I stepped back so he could take me in. My dad rarely saw me dressed up, with designer clothes, no less. I decided on a navy linen sheath dress and matching suit jacket paired with my sling back camel Louboutins. My long dark hair was blown straight, hanging to the middle of my back. “Oh Lil, your hair looks gorgeous, I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this long.” My dad was never shy about giving compliments.
“Thanks, Dad. I’ve missed you so much.” I squeezed him tighter and glanced back at Chase. His soft smile warmed my heart. The two most important men in my life were meeting. “Dad, I have someone important to introduce you to.” My giddiness must have been infectious, because both men looked genuinely happy. “This is my boyfriend, Chase Colton. Chase, this is my dad, James Porter.” Boyfriend. I really liked the sound of that.
“Chase.” My father’s rough, oil-stained hand made contact with Chase’s clean, surgeon-quality hand. The affectionate embrace was my two different worlds colliding.
“My pleasure, Mr. Porter, very nice to finally meet you.”
My dad slid back into the booth, and Chase and I filed in across from him.
“Please call me Jim, we’re not that formal up here. So Chase, my daughter tells me you’re a well-respected doc.” My overprotective father wasn’t wasting any time feeling Chase out. Trusting another man with his daughter was not something my father took lightly. Trust, period, was a rare commodity for us Porters over recent years.