My dad wasn’t much of a hugger, but I feel a pang of loss anyway. His birthday would’ve been next month.
“You wouldn’t believe the grandfather clock I saw at the antiques store the other day…,” Becca starts. Len gives her his full attention, rapt as she describes the clock in full detail.
I walk around the room admiring the many ticking contraptions. I wonder where Becca got the impression she wasn’t valuable, or that her ideas weren’t appreciated. I can tell that her mother, spontaneous like Becca, supports her. It’s clear that her clock-obsessed father adores her.
“Is this what you do for a living, Len?” I ask when he and Becca wrap up their conversation.
“Hobby, mostly. I work as a salesman at an appliance store. Been there, oh, I don’t know, forty years now.”
“This is intricate.” I point to the clock on the wall, metal gears on the outside, hands circling a made-to-look-rusted face.
“That one I made from scratch,” he shares proudly.
“Is it for sale?” When he doesn’t answer, I turn to face him. He blinks, startled.
“No one’s ever asked me that before.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Told you, Dad. They’re amazing.” Becca palms her father’s shoulder. His cheeks grow pink from embarrassment.
Ah. That’s where her self-doubt comes from.
Before I can make an offer for the clock, Carol shouts down from the kitchen that dinner’s ready.
“You think I can cook?” Becca asks me as she walks toward the stairs. “Wait’ll you taste Mom’s lasagna.”
She leaves the room before her dad and I do, and he shakes his head as he watches her go. “She’s so much like her mother. Incredible,” he says with obvious appreciation.
“Yeah. I thought that same word about her.”
Just so I don’t forget he’s the man who supplied half her DNA, he snaps his shoulders back and, though he’s shorter than me, manages to look me dead in the eyes. “You’d better have figured that out if you’re here with her.”
I dip my head in acknowledgment. “Yes, sir.”
He nods curtly and gestures for me to walk ahead of him.
There are three people looking out for Becca, then. I smile as I climb the stairs toward the heavenly smells of tomato sauce and warm garlic bread.
Chapter 20
Becca
Watching my family interact with Dax is sort of fascinating. Now, keep in mind the last time I brought a guy to the dinner table, I was sixteen years old.
Dad can’t stop talking to Dax about bar ownership, and once Dax mentioned owning two places, something extraordinary happened. Tad stopped imitating an asshole and started talking to him.
“You own two bars?”
“Yeah.” Dax grabs another slice of garlic bread—not that I’m counting, but it might be his fourth—and drags it through the sauce on his plate.
“And you can take a vacation. Must be nice,” Tad grunts.
Correction: His assholery is still intact.
Dax, chewing, raises his eyebrows and remains quiet.
“What my husband means to say,” Lara interjects, “is that he hasn’t been able to work any less than sixty hours a week since he opened Grand Lark. He would love to take a family vacation.”
“Dax, would you like more lasagna?” my mom offers.
“No, thanks, Mrs. Stone. I’ve nearly eaten what could’ve been your leftovers as it is.” He winks at her, and I swear to you she blushes. Then he loses that boyish chagrin and speaks directly to my brother.
“It’s within your ability to take a vacation. Ownership doesn’t require your living there.”
Tad’s eye tics and his smile is anything but polite. “You don’t run thirteen rental cabins. You run two bars. There’s a difference.”
“A big one,” Dax agrees. “But you don’t have to sacrifice all your time if you don’t want to.” As Tad turns an interesting shade of red, Dax continues explaining. “The trick to being able to walk away is actually walking away. Trust the people in your employ to do the job while you’re gone. Trust that they know what they’re doing. That they can handle the tasks you assign them. After all, it was you who trained them. If you don’t trust them to do the job you hired them for, why did you bother?”
Lara and I exchange glances as Tad and Dax regard each other like gladiators in a ring. Well, Tad looks like a gladiator. Dax is as laid-back as a sleepy lion on a sunny African plain. He doesn’t appear the least bit riled.
“Who wants dessert?” my mom interrupts.
“I’ll help with the ice cream,” Lara says, pulling Tasha out of her chair and into her arms.
“Me too!” Kiera shouts, following them out of the dining room.
My dad goes next, swiping our plates out from under our noses and vanishing as well.
“Dax makes a good point,” I tell my brother, folding my arms on the tablecloth. Next to me, Dax doesn’t move a muscle. He’s still leaning back in his chair, regarding Tad.
“Listen, Bec—” he starts, but Dax interrupts.
“Why’d you hire her?”
Tad’s eyebrows slam down. “Excuse me?”
“You’re excused. Now answer my question. Why’d you hire her if you don’t let her do anything. Do you not trust her?”
“You don’t know her like I do,” Tad says.
“Excuse me,” I mutter. “I’m right here.”
“I know she can cook like a five-star restaurant’s chef,” Dax says.
“You know that because you scammed her out of a recipe you didn’t pay her for.”
Dax, his energy harnessed, sits up. The words that follow are low and humming with warning. “Careful, Tad. She’s too smart to get scammed.”
“He offered to pay for them. I was the one who said no,” I interject. Dax and Tad both glare at me like I spoke out of turn.
“Them?” Tad asks. “You gave him more than one recipe? Are you crazy?”
“Once more,” Dax says, his tone lethal. “Watch the way you speak to her.”
“What are you going to do? Beat me up?” Tad waves his hands in front of his face.
“No. But I will take her hand and walk her out of here. Maybe offer her a better job where she won’t be treated like shit on a daily basis.”
“Yeah!” I agree, then snap my head around to Dax. “Wait. What?”
“A place,” Dax continues, ignoring me, “where she’s appreciated. Where she can experiment with all the recipes she wants. Where she can run the place as she sees fit without the boss over her shoulder rerouting calls to his phone because he can’t let go of the smallest of details.”
“Is that a fact?” Tad asks, standing from the table.
“Your call.” Dax stands too and I feel my jaw drop.
“She’s not going to move to Ohio to be with a guy she just met.” Tad sneers at me. “You’re not that stupid.”
“Hey!” I stand up too, just as Dax’s arm strikes like a snake. He grabs a handful of Tad’s shirt and tugs. “Dax!”