Page 34 of Love Me Knot

Noticing my confusion, he clarifies, “Like the movie Carrie but without all the blood and death. Someone hurt like that will lock people out to protect themselves.”

What he says sounds plausible, but this kid is twenty-one years old. What does he know? “Where the hell are you getting all this?”

Caleb answers with a grin. “I did ace my Psych Two final.”

I roll my eyes and spin the chair to face him. “Okay, Dr. Phil, how can I get through to her?”

Now, my son flounders. “Well, I…”

When his voice fades, I urge, “No. No. Don’t wuss out on me now.”

“I’m not wussing out. I just don’t know how you’re going to take this advice.” He picks up and launches Captain’s frisbee and wipes his slobbery hand on his jeans. “For a class project, we were made to read certain romance novels. They ranged from avoidable, nonstop drama to dark themes, all equally popular. Our assignment was to reconcile the popularity of these books, which counter today’s acceptable male behavior.”

“You read what? Wait, why are you smiling?”

Caleb laughs. “I learned a lot reading those books. You match up just about any woman’s personality to one of those characters and treat her like the man in the story does. You can’t lose.”

I lean back, unsure if I’m appalled or proud. “Please tell me you’re not manipulating women…and using my dog to help you.”

“What? Dad, no! Just listen for a minute. Take someone like Carrie or Chelsea. They bleed for acceptance, desperate for whatever crumbs are offered to them. And what happens? They get shit on. Women like that eventually reach a point, where they won’t accept anything anyone is offering.”

“Then, what is the point of this conversation?”

“This is where it gets controversial. You’re offering Chelsea romance and friendship. Chelsea likely sees it as a trap. Instead of trying to entice her, you should make her have to beat you off with a stick. She’ll eventually let down her guard. That’s when you strike.”

“Strike?” I choke.

Caleb rolls his eyes. “For the love of god, Dad. You dominate her. If she’s had to play at being strong her whole life, I guarantee her biggest wish is to hand over the reins and let someone else lead for a while.”

I’m now shaking my head. “Sorry, kid, but that sounds like a bad conduct discharge and sexual harassment suit.”

“Oh, come on, Dad. I know you’re not stupid. Does the woman object to your company?”

“No, we’ve actually come to a truce. Well, more that Chelsea put me in a box, so I’m no longer a threat.”

“That’s good, or less bad, at least. Okay, here’s what you do. Bullies torture people for two reasons: entertainment or to feel better about themselves. You’re going to pursue her relentlessly, but you’ll have to be embarrassingly over the top about it. I mean, make yourself look pitifully desperate. Kill whatever pride you have.”

“No. Number one, I’ll lose her respect and that of everyone I know. Two, because no means no. We’re back to sexual harassment.”

“We’re not. I’m telling you. This woman is begging somebody to give up something for her. She wants to be worth that to someone.”

Pushing out of the seat, I lean against one of the big timber posts. “I just don’t know. Chelsea isn’t some simpering female. She’s a warrior. There’s no way she’ll accept a wilting flower of a man.”

“Dad, no. That’s not what I’m saying. Let me slow this down for you. If you want Chelsea, go get her. Be yourself but fucking go get her. Let Chelsea and others see you trying and failing to earn a shot with her. Show the woman she means more to you than your pride. She’ll begin to feel safe around you. That’s when you make your move. You’ll know if she’s accepting or not.”

I sit stunned, staring at the man next to me. “You learned all this in two psychology classes?”

Caleb’s boyish grin reminds me he’s still just a kid. “That and a little practical application.”

“Captain’s going to need therapy for watching all the shit you’ve pulled, isn’t she?”

Caleb stands and props a hand on my shoulder. “You can do this, Dad.”

“You forget this woman carries a gun,” I grumble.

The hand on my shoulder becomes a friendly shove. “Hey, I’m ready for a stepmom. You know, two Christmases and all that.”

I wristlock my son, bending him over. “You’re a pain in the ass, and you already get two Christmases. Now, is there something you wanted, or did you just come to shrink my head?”

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