Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
He knocks on the door, and I don’t bother to remind him that I have a key to my parents’ home. I just wait for it all to unravel.
My father opens the door, his smile falling from his face the moment he sees Hawke. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he barks.
“Hi, Dad,” I say, waving at him. But he doesn’t look at me. He and Hawke are too busy glaring at one another.
“Mr. Walker.” Hawke offers his hand, and my father stares at it as if willing it to burst into flames.
My mother peeks over my father’s shoulder and then shoves him out of the way when she sees Hawke.
“Hawke, is that you?” she says, pleasantly surprised, and brings him in for a hug, her arms barely able to wrap fully around his bulk. My father’s eye actually twitches at her warm welcome.
“Good evening, Mrs. Walker,” Hawke says politely, and I’m trying my hardest not to laugh at his formality, which is so unlike him.
“To what do we owe this surprise?” she asks. When she releases him, she looks between the two of us.
“Ivy owes me a dinner, so I’ve come to collect,” he says, patting his stomach.
“I think the housekeeper threw a few scraps in the trash,” Dad bites out as he grabs Mom possessively by her hip and pulls her into him.
“I’m sure they’re delicious if your wife’s the one who cooked it,” Hawke retorts.
My mother bursts out laughing as she turns and taps my father on the shoulder. “Be nice. He’s a guest who is welcome anytime.”
“Since when?” Dad grits, and it takes my mother steering him from the doorway to make room for us to step inside. When the door is closed behind us, she steps to my side, and we watch the two men silently walk beside one another, the tension between them palpable.
“Did you put him up to this?” she whispers. “Much better than a cowboy.”
I try not to laugh. “No, he came willingly.”
We try not to laugh even more as my father glares at him when we enter the dining room, already set up with a spread. I don’t know how to tell Hawke this, but my parents very rarely cook, much like myself.
“Oh, these are for you,” Hawke says, as if just remembering he’s still carrying the flowers, and hands them to my mother.
“You walk into my home with my daughter, but bring flowers for my wife?” Dad growls from the head of the table.
“Yes. And aren’t they beautiful? It’s been a while since I’ve received flowers, so thank you, Hawke,” she says pointedly.
My father’s jaw clenches as he quietly says to her, “Are you displeased? I’ll buy you a thousand blooms every day and far more beautiful ones than what this punk got you.”
I can see Hawke’s trying not to laugh, and I jab him in the side. It’s very possible my father might have a heart attack after this dinner. Hawke and I take a seat beside one another, and his eyes grow wide as he scans over the food. There’s enough to easily feed eight people, but I’m certain there won’t be any leftovers with this tank sitting beside me.
My father pours a glass of wine for my mother and then offers me some. My stomach rolls at the idea, and I politely decline. His eyebrows furrow because it’s very rare that I refuse a drink.
“I’m a little hungover,” I’m quick to explain. Because all of this is a nice distraction, but the reality is I don’t want to touch alcohol any time soon.
He looks at Hawke then, who gives him a cheesy grin. “Don’t worry, Will, I’m driving, so no, thank you.”
“That’s Mr. Walker to you,” Dad growls.
“Roger that, Captain.” Hawke salutes. My father’s left eye twitches again, and my mother and I are barely holding in our laughter. Suddenly, I’ve found a new appreciation for Hawke and his inability to think before he speaks.
“So what have you been doing with yourself, Hawke? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. I think Dutton and Posie’s wedding was the last time,” Mom says, serving herself. I follow suit, adding food to my own plate.
“Yes, you couldn’t be found for half of it, and I believe I saw you with two different women that night,” Dad sneers as he takes a sip of whiskey.
“It was actually three, sir,” Hawke corrects. “And I’ve just been doing my duties working for Eli. Buying property. Trying to stay out of trouble.”
“I didn’t know you were buying properties,” I say, surprised.
He looks at me and casually shrugs. “I’ve got to do something with the money, right?” I don’t know if it shocks me that Hawke does any type of investing, but I’m realizing there’s more to him than I’ve ever known. I guess I’ve never really looked beyond the surface with him before.