Page 35 of Exclusive

“Do you see Biggun’ around here anywhere? No; and you won’t. Put your money away, Daddy,” I whisper… and help myself to another beer.

“Can you please tell me what’s going on? Why did Sawyer call you, and why are we taking an Uber when we both own cars?”

“I’m not exactly sure, Mrs. Beckett, I’m just following your husband’s instructions,” I say as I guide her to the Uber waiting in her driveway. “His text was a bit cryptic, but I’ve no doubt he knows what he’s doing.”

“Ha,” she scoffs, “are you trying to make me feel better or worse? And enough ‘Mrs. Beckett.’ Call me Emmett.”

“Will do, Emmett.” I smile and open the back door for her, then slide in beside her and tell the driver to head to the second and final address I’d put on the order.

“Which is where?” Emmett asks me.

“Your family’s cabin. He and Presley are out there and asked that we come meet them.”

“What are they doing at the cabin? Without mentioning it to anyone, least of all me? Sutton,” she wrings both hands together in her lap, worry painting over her face, “honey, what aren’t you telling me?”

A lot.

“Mrs., sorry, Emmett,” I reach for one of her busy hands and softly squeeze, smiling again in what I hope is reassurance. “As your future son-in-law, I refuse to lie to you, but I also won’t speak out of turn. I hope you can respect that.”

Something tells me she didn’t hear all I said, and if forced to guess, I’d say she checked out as ‘law’ was leaving my mouth… ‘cause that’s about the time she squeezed the shit out of my hand and the corners of her mouth reached for her eyes… and stayed stuck.

“Son-in-law?” She dreams in voice.

“If I have my way.” I nod. “And if your husband took care of things; like I believe only he can, and did. And I will tell you this, they’re both safe, no one’s hurt or anything like that, so, please try not to worry. Oh, and I’m madly in love with your spectacular daughter. I want to covet her for the rest of our lives, if she’ll let me, and it’s okay with you and her father of course.”

She shrieks, grabbing the sides of my face and yanking it down to rain kisses over both cheeks. “You wonderful, sweet handsome boy, yes, yes, yes!” I chuckle, hoping Presley, the one I actually someday propose to, is half as excited. “I had a feeling, the very first time I watched the two of you together, that you were the one. The one who’d finally melt my baby’s heart.”

“You have no idea how badly I hope you’re right.”

Please, God, please have let him say exactly what she needed to hear, to heal, in exactly the right way. I’m begging you.

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