“I did and it went well. She was on good behavior. Very little drama.”
She smirked. “Maybe I should get shot again before we introduce him to your father.”
“Not funny.”
“Too soon?”
I sighed. “Sweetheart, I doubt I will ever be able to joke about this.”
A familiar baritone voice with a smooth-as-honey southern accent boomed outside the glass door. “Which one of these goldfish bowls is Dahlia Calhoun’s”
The color leeched from her face. “You called my dad?”