Page 42 of To Have and to Scold

“Blame shifting? You should follow my mother on social media. She makes graphics and videos explaining mental health.” She gives up a little giggle. “It’s her new hobby.”

“I’m not on social media.” Although getting to know Dallas’s mom that way sounds interesting.

“Why does that not surprise me?” Her voice is laced with annoyance.

“Why do you sound disappointed in that?”

“Well, why do you care what I think?”

See? I tell my brain.She’s impossible.“Obviously, I don’t because I’m not on social media, so I’m not trying to get a bunch of likes and subscribes.” I roll my eyes.

“Social media has its place,” she says. “In fact, I’ll have you know that it’s because of the mansion Instagram page that I’ve booked a wedding for September just today. Only one more wedding to go for us to be fully booked. They found us becauseof the hashtags I used and photos of the place. Social media for the win.”

“Maybe it’s just you for the win.”

A smile tips up the corners of her mouth. It’s cute when she feels proud of herself.

After staring at me, she lifts a shoulder. “I’ll take it.”

An hour later, after deciding it’s not quite time to do the second coat on the first bedroom we painted last night, we put our rollers in the paint savers and call it a night.

As we leave out the front doors, Dallas smacks her forehead. “Wait. I can’t leave quite yet.” She throws a look behind her and hesitates. “But you go ahead. I’ll just walk around back from the outside and take care of something really quick.”

“I’m not gonna leave until you do.”

“It’s fine,” she says, her gaze following the pathway that wraps around the house.

“I can’t just let you traipse around back in the dark.”

“Just because I didn’t grow up near a beach doesn’t mean I’m going to get myself killed out there. There are plenty of lights on. I’ll be fine.”

She steps off the grand porch and starts to follow the inlaid brick path along the mansion.

There’s no sense arguing with her, so I only follow her at an appropriate distance. She looks back at me as she winds her way around. At the second toss of a look from her, this one with a deep scowl, I grunt out a laugh.

“Sorry to get your britches in a tangle, Dallas, but I’m only being the gentleman my mama taught me to be, okay?”

“I’m fine,” she insists.

“The beach at night, especially in this remote area, isn’t safe for anyone to be alone. Anyone. I’m not being sexist, and I’m not being controlling.” I jog a couple of steps to catch up with her, but then she stops to take her sneakers and socks off. “I’m justletting you know that you don’t know the rules around here, so I thought I’d help you out, that’s all.”

“I’m not a beach bunny, but trust me, I’m—” She stops herself, letting her shoulders droop. “There’s no sense in arguing with you. I can tell it won’t work and I’ll only get even more angry than I already am.”

I throw my head back. “She can be taught, ladies and gentlemen!”

She snorts and shakes her head, dropping her shoes and socks in the sand. I fall back again to follow at a polite distance. Soon we’re at the rear of the mansion and she’s taking photos with her phone, using the flash.

“I didn’t want to have to wait for the photographer to come at night. I wanted to show how pretty this back area is at night, with the stringed lights and lamps. I just hope my phone’s photos are of a good enough quality to get us by.”

I watch as she snaps photos, both wide-angle shots and up-close detail photos.

“Have you thought more about turning that library into a bride’s room?” she asks, focusing on getting the right angle.

“No, not really.”

“Every venue worth its salt needs a changing area that’s not just another bedroom or something.”

“It would involve asking Mayor Dobbs to expand the budget, and I can’t do that.”

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