Page 8 of Her Greatest Adventure

A shrug, and then she finally sets her cup down and says, “Put Cooper in the hot seat now, please, Dad.”

“Fine, but this talk is not over. Tomorrow, you’ll offer to scrub Mr. Wright’s car until there’s not a speck of paint left. Got it?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

I lean back in my chair, the collar of my button-down suddenly suffocating. My palm breaks out in a sweat as I reach for my beer and take a swig. “What’s going on?”

Dad doesn’t beat around the bush. “Adalyn needs someone to go with her on her trip. I told Oakley you would join her.”

The beer burns when I swallow it wrong, coughing violently. Tears form in my eyes that I try to blink back.Surely I heard him wrong.He wouldn’t say yes to me joining my best friend’s little sister on her trip across the world without at least mentioning it to me asingledamn time.

“You did what?” I rear back.

He at least has the nerve to look the slightest bit sheepish. “As far as I knew, you didn’t have any plans besides holing up in your basement studio all alone and painting until your fingers bled.”

“But you didn’t think to ask me first? This isn’t like when I was a kid and you could volunteer me for babysitting duty.”

“Is this the part where I tell you I told you so?” Scarlett cuts in, her amusement obvious in the crinkles beside her eyes as she watches Dad.

“Only if you want to pay for it later.” He winks, and I swallow my gag.

“Can I be excused? I think I might vomit,” Amelia groans, already pushing away from the table.

Scarlett laughs softly, shaking her head as she drains her glass of wine and stands. “Yes, but help me take some of these plates and put them in the dishwasher first.”

My sister doesn’t bother with a reply before she jumps out of her seat and hurries to help SP clear the table. Once they’ve collected everything besides the glasses in front of Dad and me, Scarlett brushes a kiss over the top of my head and ushers Amelia into the kitchen.

I pin my father with a pinched look. “Did you even think to ask me about this before you agreed on my behalf? What if I actually did have plans?”

“Did you?” he asks, two thick brows slipping to his hairline. Despite turning fifty-one this past year, he’s almost wrinkle-free. It probably has something to do with all of the facial creams his best friends have made him try out over the years.

All it takes is one look at him to know he’s not going to let this go. The stubborn man has never been afraid to be the bad guy, and I’ve always been too compliant.

I’m quick to steel my expression, hiding how annoyed I am. Not at the idea of going with Adalyn, but the fact I’m a thirty-one-year-old man beingvoluntoldthat I’m about to spend my entire summer off trying to keep up with her.

Adalyn Hutton is the Webster definition of a wild child. She’s loud, bossy, fearless, sometimes out of control. There’s no cliff too high or cave too deep. I think she came out of the womb with her middle fingers up and a point to prove to the world.

My spine aches from being snapped so tight. “I spent ten months straight waking up early, following a schedule to a T, and barely getting a moment alone. I wasn’t planning on doing the same all summer long.”

“You’re being bullheaded.”

“I’m frustrated, Dad,” I breathe, running a hand down my face and jaw, over the stubble I’ve let grow out since school ended last week.

Guilt flattens his lips. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have agreed to anything on your behalf. I’ll call her father back tonight and set it straight.”

I let my head fall back on a tight exhale and stare at the bumps on the ceiling. I’ve always struggled with dealing with the aftermath of disappointing someone. That tight coiling in my chest when I catch the first glimpse of it right on their face always makes me feel unsteady. It’s why I’m so compliant. The guy who’s ready to throw himself on the sword if it means I don’t have to live with the pinch in my gut at the knowledge I’ve let someone down.

That’s the only reason why I’m blurting out my next sentence, even when I know this decision is most likely doing to bite me in the ass down the road.

“It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

* * *

My porch lightis on when I step into the warm evening air. I shut the car door behind me and do a double take at the figure waiting on the front steps, a Tupperware of leftovers in my hands.

When I recognize the visitor, I release a breath and say, “You’re lucky I didn’t mistake you for a burglar.”

“And you’re lucky I couldn’t find a spare key, or I would have been waiting inside already. Do you not have one? It’s not in any common spot. I checked pretty much everywhere.”

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