Good. His surprise was still in the works. Rolling his shoulders to relieve a little of the tension keeping them bunched around his ears, he climbed out of the car and headed to the front porch. Proof that someone had been watching, Mr. Gladwell opened the door two seconds after Kyle’s knock.
He stood there staring Kyle down for a second. Behind him, on the dining room table, was the most beautiful bow Kyle had ever seen. Blood red fiberglass, obviously expensive, and in perfect fighting shape. A fletching kit for making arrows was laid out next to it. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
Olympic archer. Right. “Hello, sir. Could I…um, is Faith here?”
Mr. Gladwell’s eyebrow inched up, and he crossed his arms. “Yes, but only if you answer two questions.”
Oh, shit. He was nervous enough, for God’s sake. “Okay.”
“One, you’ll have my daughter home by curfew, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Two, you won’t take her anywhere dangerous, correct?”
“Correct. It’s just dinner, sir.”
The man’s face relaxed into a smile. “I have to do that with every kid my girls date. If they give me attitude, I know they’re no good.”
“So, uh, I passed?”
“Kyle, you called me ‘sir.’ You definitely passed. Come on in.”
His heart thundered in his chest like he’d run for third on a long drive to the corner of right field, praying he wouldn’t get thrown out. Faith’s dad was acting completely normal now, like nothing had happened. This man had one sick sense of humor.
“Hi, Kyle.” Mrs. Gladwell glided into the room and gave his arm a squeeze. “The yard is looking lovely.”
He managed a laugh. “Even with the grass pulled up?”
“Especially with the grass pulled up. I’m really pleased.”
“Thanks.”
Mrs. Gladwell didn’t acknowledge him. She was staring at the dining room table with her eyes narrowed. “Gavin, please tell me you didn’t do the thing where you try to put the fear of God into Faith’s date by making arrows at my dining room table again.”
“I’m not putting the fear of God into anyone,” Mr. Gladwell said, smirking. “I’m putting the fear of meeting God into these boys.”
A flush climbed Kyle’s neck and flooded his face with heat. Sweat prickled on his nose. “Should I, uh, say my prayers, sir?”
Mr. Gladwell burst out laughing. “Okay, I like this one. Much better than the other kid.”
“His name was Cameron,” Mrs. Gladwell said, shooting a sidelong look at Kyle. “And we probably shouldn’t be discussing him.”
“Good, because that kid was a punk,” Mr. Gladwell muttered before he waved and disappeared into the living room.”
Mrs. Gladwell shook her head, smiling. “You’ll have to forgive him. Raising three girls makes for an overprotective—and warped—father.”
Kyle nodded, relieved the conversation was over and wondering where he should put his hands. Behind his back? Clasped in front? Folded in prayer that Faith would come down soon, before he had to make small talk? Which was so stupid, because he did business with her mom. He had no trouble talking about plants, but now that they were “the parents,” standing here with either of them, shooting the breeze, was pure torture.
“Sorry I’m late!”
Faith came in, and Kyle’s heart stopped. She’d let her hair down, instead of pulled back in a bun, and her mile-long legs were on full display in a pair of skinny jeans. Her cheeks were slightly pink, but she looked happier and more chill than he’d seen since he met her. He was doing the right thing, asking her out, so he should probably chill, too.
He must’ve been staring, because Mrs. Gladwell stifled a laugh and said, “You kids have fun.”
Smiling, she left for the living room, too. Now they were alone. Kyle couldn’t think of a word to say. Faith was looking him up and down, smiling.
A few more seconds passed before Mr. Gladwell called, “You two going or do you want to stay here and play Yahtzee?”
They laughed. “We’re leaving, Dad,” Faith called back. “Geez, whoever heard of a father kicking her daughter out on a date.”
And with that, they stepped out onto her front porch. She shut the door behind them, then turned to face him. “So, now what?”
He smiled slowly, finally feeling his confidence return. “It’s still a surprise.”
Chapter Twenty
Faith
They started down the sidewalk, and Faith couldn’t believe her legs still worked. God, Kyle looked nice. She’d been surprised by the khaki shorts and Polo yesterday, but today he wore a pair of jeans that fit him in all the right places, along with an untucked button-down. He turned to check if she was following and she had to snap her gaze back to his face. The corner of his mouth turned up, then he swaggered to the car, probably overdoing it just for her.
Her cheeks grew warmer. No, Kyle, I’m not staring at your ass. You have a piece of lint stuck there. Can I pull it off for you?
Oh, Lord.