I stifled my smile, trying to remember how difficult it was for any dad, let alone a dad like Grant Turner, to accept his little girl having a boyfriend. “You mean Carson? Her very nice, goal-oriented boyfriend she’s been with for three months now?”
Grant’s eyes only narrowed on the boy beside his daughter. I guessed it didn’t help that Carson had his arm around her and was whispering something in her ear that was making her smile.
“No, I mean him. And that’s three months too long.”
“Grant . . .” I lifted my eyebrows at him, but he didn’t see. “He plays football.”
He set me down when we were close to the barricade, his ever-present arm winding around me. “He’s a quarterback. A fucking quarterback, Ryan.” I shook my head as he seethed. “I did not raise my daughter to date quarterbacks.”
“What? One of those kids who comes from a good family and had the kind of dad who’d take him out back to throw a football before dinner? We didn’t raise our daughter to date someone family-oriented like that?”
He sighed, giving me a look like I was no help at all.
“He’s a nice guy. Give him a chance.” I patted his stomach, knowing this wasn’t easy for him.
Carson was the first guy Charlie had been serious about, and it was like a knife in the gut every time Grant saw them together. He still saw Charlie in her overalls and ponytail, not as the nineteen-year-old woman she’d become.
“Sure, I’ll give him a chance. Once I bury him in the ground.” When I groaned, Grant thrust his arm in their direction. “He’s standing too close. He’s touching her.”
“I seem to remember you doing a whole hell of a lot worse than just standing too close when we were a whole lot younger, Grant Turner.”
“That was different. We—”
“Were in love?” I let that sink in. “We raised a smart, capable daughter. Calm down. She’s not going to let some random loser into her life.”
Grant huffed, staring into the crowd again as the roar picked up. “You did.” His hands slipped around my waist before he lifted me over the barricade where Charlie, Cruz, and him were. Grant was big enough he could just step over the barricade, his eyes on Carson the whole time.
“Mom!” Charlie shrieked, throwing her arms around me. She’d taken after her dad in the height department, blossoming into one of those tall, leggy beauties, so I was towered over by my whole family. I’d had time to get used to it though, since Charlie had passed me the summer she was thirteen.
“Charlie-Bird.” I held her tight, wishing I never had to let her go and knowing I had to. It was the plight of parenthood. “How are you, sweetie?”
“I’m great. How about you?”
I heard the unsaid question in her voice. She knew all about HD now, and I knew that, like Grant, she worried about me more than I wanted either of them to.
“I’m fantastic,” I said, not needing to play it up. “Best day ever.” Glancing over my shoulder, I found Grant behind me, a stone wall with his arms crossed, not so subtly standing between Charlie and Carson. “Right?” I nudged him. Then again when the first nudge didn’t get his attention. “Right?”
“Dad!” Charlie leapt at Grant, who caught her like he’d been expecting her.
“Love you, baby girl.” His gruff voice softened in the wake of his daughter’s embrace. He was the toughest guy I’d ever met, and as weak as they came where his daughter was concerned. It was one of the things I loved about him most.
“Look who I brought to see the big event.” Charlie stepped out of Grant’s arms to tug a marginally-frightened-looking Carson toward us.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Turner.” Carson extended his hand toward Grant and smiled when I could tell he was half terrified.
Rightly so. Grant wasn’t totally joking about burying him a shallow, unmarked grave. If Grant ever found out about Charlie being intimate with a boy, I’d have to lock him up to keep him from going to prison for premeditated murder. The actual murder might be in the heat of the moment, but I knew for a fact that Grant had been scheming ways to torture and kill any boy who touched his daughter that way.
I had to elbow him in the ribs to get him to return the handshake.
“How’s the season going?” Grant asked stiffly.
Carson started to wince as Grant’s handshake continued. Another elbow to the ribs had him letting go.
“Pretty good so far,” Carson answered, giving his hand a shake.
“Yeah, if you consider undefeated ‘pretty good.’” Charlie slid up beside Carson and leaned her head on his shoulder.