Page 14 of Always Be an Us

"Gladly," I step up to her porch and finally, place her on her feet. "Now you can go get the book. See if you can manage that without tripping over your own two feet."

Her mouth opens and closes. Opens again and closes again.

She seems so angry she can't even find the words to try to express it.

"You’re an ass, you know that?" she finally manages.

I grin humorlessly. "I've been called worse by better."

"Oh, I bet." Then, she huffs and spins around storming back into her house.

I find myself watching her retreating form, until I notice that my daughter has stepped up next to me. She frowns at me.

"Why did you do that?" she asks. She's not used to seeing me being so physical and carrying little damsels in distress around.

"She’s clumsy," I say. "Didn’t want her falling again."

"I think you pissed her off."

"I piss a lot of people off. Doesn't mean I shouldn't help them out."

"Wow. How nice of you, dad," she teases, offering me a smirk. I almost return it but then I remember I’m supposed to be mad at her, so I frown again

"Go wait in the car," I say.

She frowns. "Dad..."

"Right now, Amelia. And don't you dare try to run away again."

She huffs and then flips her brown locks over her shoulders, her hair bouncing as she walks away.

"Oh." A new male voice rings out and I glance back to find an elderly man standing in the doorway, peering at me. "You must be Holland's son."

"I'm not." I don't even know who Holland is.

"You sure you do look like him," the man says. "Holland said his son went off to Hollywood to become a movie star. Says he's doing pretty well for himself. He was in that new movie, you know, the one with the dinosaurs..."

"I'm not Holland's son."

"You look like him." He comes a little closer, showing bright blue eyes stark on his wrinkled face. His thin arms go behind his back and he stoops a little but moves lightly on his feet. "Or are you... no you can't be. Either way, you look very familiar. Have we met before?"

"I doubt it."

"Are you my Emma's new boyfriend?"

I cough a little as the old man continues rambling, "You're better looking than the last one. Taller too. You know my Emma always likes good-looking guys, but they've not always been very good to her. You know the last one–"

"Grandpa!" Emma suddenly dashes out from the hallways behind him, holding a leatherbound book and looking as mortified as ever. "That's enough."

"Why honey? I'm just telling your boyfriend–"

"He's not my boyfriend," she says loudly. "And the potatoes are getting mushy."

"Oh shoot. I forgot I put the fire on too high." He quickly scurries away leaving me and the blonde–Emma–together standing at the doorway.

"Here." She's red-faced as she hands the book to me. "Give it to Amelia."

I take it and raise my eyebrow at her. I should probably be nice enough to leave it at that, but I can't resist teasing her.

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