Page 21 of Faking I Do
I let him walk away, deciding not to pursue the conversation for the time being. But my dad’s reaction made me more determined than ever to stand my ground against the Phillips family. Someone had to. The only thing that gave me pause was wondering which side Bodie would end up on.
CHAPTER 11
BODIE
“Dammit.Think you could have handled that any worse?” I slammed the door to my truck behind me. Pops had climbed in the backseat while my dad took up more than half of the front.
“It’ll work out the way it’s supposed to, you’ll see. I know you’ve got a soft spot for those folks. Talk some sense into that filly before she goes and gets in over her head, will you?” Dad pulled one of his cigars from his front pocket.
“I don’t know what you’ve got planned, but Lacey Cherish is off-limits, you understand?” I shot a glance at my dad. “And put that thing away. You’re not smoking in my truck.”
Dad ignored me, lighting up the cigar with the custom filigreed lighter he’d picked up in Mexico. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you spend so much time at their place when you were a kid. Luke was all right but their dad’s got a soft head on his shoulders. And now his daughter’s following in his footsteps. She’d best mind her own business and work out her little wedding plans without mucking up what we’ve got going on.”
“Dad, you understand it’s my job to uphold the law, right?”
“Of course. You don’t know how proud it makes me to be able to say my son is a member of Idont’s finest.”
I shook my head. “You know Lacey’s changing the name of the town. Better start referring to it as Ido. And can you please put that thing out?”
Dad rolled the window down an inch. “Nonsense. Don’t you go getting all soft on me, too.”
A firm hand clamped on to my shoulder. Pops leaned forward, between the bucket seats. “Family comes first. Bodie knows that.”
I met my grandfather’s gaze in the rearview mirror. Pops’s blue eyes stuck out against his weathered, leathery skin. Yeah, family did come first. That fact had been drilled into me since I was a kid. But I’d recently noticed my dad and pops seemed to adhere to their personal mantra only when it suited them.
“You got time for supper at the house tonight?” Dad asked. “Your mother’s been cookin’ up a storm. I think she even asked Maria to make some of those tamales you like.”
My stomach gurgled at the thought of Maria’s tamales. She’d been best friends with my mom since grade school. The two of them rarely spent time in the kitchen anymore, but when they did . . . I’d gone into a food coma multiple times after indulging in Maria’s homemade family recipes.
“I could stick around for a bit.”
“Good. Gotta have something to wash away the taste of mediocrity.” Pops let out a gruff laugh.
There had never been good vibes between my family and the Cherish family. At least not where the older generation was concerned. But Luke and I had forged a fast friendship our first day of kindergarten and as much as my dad tried to encourage me to find someone else to hang out with beyond the Cherish family, I held my ground. It finally got to the point where my dad gave up. He didn’t like to involve himself in the child-rearing part of parenting, preferring to focus on his business and leave the day-to-day stuff to my mom.
I’d never quite figured out what caused the tension between my dad and Mr. Cherish but Luke and I had been gloriously ignorant of the details. For some reason, now it seemed like my dad had it out for the Cherish family. Mr. Cherish could hold his own, but I wouldn’t have Lacey get caught in the crosshairs. Not on my watch.
I’d spent most of my childhood looking out for Luke’s younger sister, so the sense of protectiveness didn’t surprise me. But the intensity of my need to keep her from harm did. I shook it off, leaving those thoughts for another day, as I pulled into the long drive leading to my parents’ house.
A decked-out dually truck sat on the concrete pad next to the garage.
“You expecting company?” I asked.
Dad flicked his cigar ash out the window as we came to a stop. “Just a little supper between friends. Come on in. Those tamales are waiting.”
Pops scrambled out of the backseat like a man a third his age. What did the two of them have planned? Reluctantly, I shifted the truck into park and followed the two men into the house.
“Phillips!” A booming voice echoed across the tile floors, bouncing off the adobe walls of my childhood home. Mayor Buck Little of Swynton took long strides across the foyer to wrap my dad in a half-hug handshake.
“Sorry we’re a little late. We had some business to take care of with our illustrious mayor.” Dad grinned—a kind of cat-devoured-the-canary type—as he nodded toward me. “You remember my son? Deputy Sheriff Phillips?”
“Of course.” Buck released his grip and stepped back, sizing me up with deep-set beady eyes. “How are you, son?”
I cringed at the familiarity. I didn’t want any link between me and Mayor Little. “Just fine. How about you, Mayor?”
We shook hands, and I added a little extra squeeze.
“Oh, I’m fine, just fine. And I’ll be even better once we get the particulars figured out.” He winked.
