Page 105 of Homebound

A throat clear slices through the kitchen, breaking us apart.

I pry my lips from her to see Mr. Cutler leaning against the kitchen doorframe with his scowl looking more intimidating than usual, flicking his pocketknife. “So, this is what was taking so long, huh? And here I thought you were just putting a little extra love into my ranch water.”

Dakota rolls her eyes. “Me kissing Wyatt has nothing to do with the love I put into your ranch water, Pops. I’ll always put all the love into yours.”

Mr. Cutler flicks his knife with a sharp snap, eyeing me like we’re fixing to go head-to-head in a face-off, but I’m starting to realize that’s how he looks at most people. It’s not personal. He’s like Dakota. His grumpiness gets mistaken for callousness.

I nudge Dakota in front of me—not just to shield the obvious bulge straining my jeans, but also because I can’t let Mr. Cutler think I’ll let his daughter slip away now that I’ve got her.

He might be intimidating, but being afraid of a woman’s father? That’s the sign of an insecure man who doesn’t know how to treat a woman. I’ve got nothing to fear from Mr. Cutler because I’ll do right by his daughter. I’ll treat her like a queen, so no small blade or scowl is going to rattle me.

The doorbell rings, cutting through the tension with a cheerful jingle. I let go of Dakota. “I’ll get that.”

Mr. Cutler tips his hat at her. “Why don’t you get that, darlin’? I think this man and I need to have a little chat.”

“Okay, but y’all play nice, Pops,” she says, pecking me on the jaw before floating over to do the same to her father’s cheek. She saunters down the hallway, and I can’t help but watch her hips sway in those tight jeans as she goes.

“You better be looking at my daughter’s face, boy,” Mr. Cutler grunts.

I snap my eyes up to his narrowed gaze. I’m not about to tell him I was staring at his daughter’s perfect ass, but I can’t lie to him either. “Actually, sir. I was admiring her legs. She’s been working hard this summer. All those workout sessions are paying off.”

Mr. Cutler snorts like I’m bluffing.

I’m not. Her legs look damn good in those jeans.

He stalks toward me, the old floorboards creaking under his heavy boots. “Look here, I'm not one to beat around the bush, so lay it on me straight. What’s going on between you and my daughter?”

I’ve always held a deep respect for Colt Cutler. He’s protective without being overbearing. Kind without being a pushover. Commanding without being demanding. He’s exactly the kind of father I want to be to Vienna—but I’ll add in a few more smiles.

My moms gave me everything I needed, and they’re some of the best parents, but Mr. Cutler was always a role model, and he deserves my honesty.

I check the hallway. Dakota must be occupied with whoever is at the door because I hear low voices, and it sounds like… a man? I turn back to her father, ignoring the voices. “Sir, I'm completely in love with your daughter, and I have been since the day she pulled me out of that creek.”

He chews on his lip, and I wait, and wait, and wait some more. By the time he steps forward, I’m sweating, but he claps a hand on my back. “Well, it’s about damn time you admitted that, son.”

Son.

That takes me by surprise. “You’re not going to give me a hard time for dating your girl, sir? I wouldn’t blame you. I’m a father too.”

“Now, why would I get mad at a good man for loving my daughter? Any man who looks at her the way you do is fine by me, but I wanted to make sure you were all in,” he rasps, the sound filled with more emotion than I expected. “You’ve got my blessin’, son. I couldn’t think of a better man for her. I always had a feeling it’d be you with how you followed her around every summer.”

I swallow hard at the thought that this man, who loves Dakota just as fiercely as I do, sees me as being worthy of her.

“Thank you,” I scrape out the words. “That means more to me than you know.”

Colt’s brown eyes melt to chocolate pools. “Just promise me you’ll love her with everything you’ve got. She deserves nothing less.”

Dakota might have rough edges, but when she cares, she cares deeply for her people. She’s bold, caring, driven, all the qualities I want my little girl to grow into, and if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have gone after my own dreams.

She sharpens me, but I soften her, and she deserves a man who’s going to support her goals. I’m not saying life will be as breezy as a flower farm, but I’ll never try to squash her dreams.

“I promise,” I say, and I know that’ll be the easiest promise I ever keep. “I don’t know any other way to love her, sir.”

He pours us each an amber shot of tequila. “And I think it’s about time you started calling me Colt. Enough with the ‘sir.’”

We clink our shot glasses, the tequila burning down my throat, and seal our agreement with a firm handshake. I’m feeling good, really good, about where things are headed.

There’s even a bounce in my step as I walk to the front door, but when I see who’s waiting in the hall, all that positivity dries up. The ominous black cowboy hat casts a shadow on his face, but I’d recognize that annoying drawl anywhere.