11. The Dilemma
563 Words
"Dad, you don't have to do this now," I tell him, hoping he will listen and postpone this until later.
In truth, I guess I should be happy he hasn't threatened to shoot him with the shotgun he possesses.
His eyes come to me. "Darlin', I love you, but this conversation is between me and Tuck," he says.
Well, then.
I sigh angrily. "Fine," I mutter, taking my heels in my hand and moving to sit on the steps.
I hear Tucker and Dad head into the house, closing the door behind them. I sit there on the porch with my bare feet on the steps, my eyebrows furrowed and my bottom lip captured by my teeth in anticipation.
A few minutes later, the door opens and Tucker steps out, a look on his face that almost seems like a relief. Dad follows him and his gaze falls on me, his expression apologetic.
"You ready to go, honey?" Tucker asks, bringing my attention to him.
I slip my heels onto my feet before turning back to him and stating, "I'm ready."
He smiles and takes my hand. "Let's go."
* * *
Thirty minutes later, the two of us are seated at a back table of The Cheyenne, a local bar and grill that Tucker has brought me to.
I now realize my outfit and heels are a bit much for tonight. My nerves are causing my heart to beat out of my chest and my palms to sweat.
The car ride here was filled with pleasant conversation between the two of us, but now the fear of dating again or tonight going south is almost consuming me. In my heart, I know I've moved on from Owen and his ways, but the doubt and risk of being hurt still haunt my thoughts.
As if he senses my freaking out, Tucker places a comforting hand on mine.
"You nervous?" He asks.
I smile hesitantly. "Is it that noticeable?"
He chuckles. "A little," he says, leaning forward. "But I think it's cute."
I wrinkle my nose. "Cute?"
He full out laughs this time. "Adorable."
Afterward, his expression turns serious and he murmurs, "Don't be nervous, sugar. You look amazing."
Shit, there goes my senses.
I blush and cover my smile. "Thank you."
He winks, his eyes sparkling. "Anytime, babe."
We stare at each other for a few more seconds before the waiter interrupts the moment, collecting our drink order. I request a lemonade while Tucker orders an ice tea. The waiter leaves us to decide on food and we sit in silence, debating on what we want to eat.
Once the waiter returns, we place our orders. I settle on a chicken quesadilla with peppers and guacamole and Tucker goes with a steak dish. The waiter takes our menus and exits once more.
I'm the first to start a conversation this time.
"So, how long has your family lived in Tennessee?" I ask.
"You start simple," he says. His lips twitch. "My parents grew up here and the same with my grandparents. Now, the grandchildren are kind of carrying it on with our generation."
"That's amazing," I tell him, impressed. "I can't imagine what growing up in a place such as this must have been like."
He seems intrigued. "Really?"
I nod. "I moved around a lot in my youth with my mother. She was the only family I had, so I didn't have much of a choice."
"I understand." He takes a sip of his tea. "Are the two of you close?"
Shit on a shingle.
- Writer
