“Well, if it's not him, then who?” He tucks his chin against his chest, his glasses falling to the bridge of his nose as he peers up at me.
“It's no one, Dad.”
I'm not telling him. Actually, I'm even starting to question my decision to let Hardin pick me up here. It would have been so much easier to just meet him someplace else.
It's not too late. . . I think to myself, about to reach for my phone when the clock starts to chime. Shit.
“You know what, I'm just going to go wait outside,” I say before he can ask me anything else. “I'll be home later.”
“Don't be too late, you have a big day tomorrow.”
“Yes, Dad, I know.” I tuck my purse up under my arm, and head outside.
He doesn't say anything else. My father sits silently in his chair and from the behind his newspaper he watches me walk out the door.
In all truth, I don't have to tell him a damn thing. I don't need his permission anymore to live my life. I can still enjoy myself and have a life outside of these walls one way or another, even if he's forcing me to work at the firm.
I walk to the edge of the driveway carefully in my heels, and head down the street out of view of my house. Headlights burn bright as they turn up the road, and the truck slows to a stop. Hardin rolls down the passenger side window and smiles.
“You look amazing,” he says, looking me up and down.
“Thank you.” I take a step back, holding out my arms and spinning around. I reach for the door, but he stops me.
“Uh uh, I can't pick you up unless you have your thumb out. I'm sorry, it just wouldn't be right. You are standing on the sidewalk waiting for a ride and all.”
Giggling, I hold out my thumb. “Is this better? More convincing?”
“Yup, climb in.”
I open the door and slip inside. “Sorry, I probably should have just met you at the restaurant or something. I didn't think this through.”
“Why? What's wrong with me picking you up?”
“There shouldn't be anything wrong honestly, not for a normal family. But with my father and how he is, I just figure him not knowing I'm going out with you is probably a good thing.”
“You know, eventually he's going to find out. Even if you don't tell him, someone else will. People talk, Millie.”
“I know, it's just that right now I really don't want to deal with him. I only want to enjoy this right now. I don't want to spend the night venting about him and my mother. Tonight isn't about that.”
“Fair enough.” Hardin reaches over and grabs my hand, pulling it onto his lap. “Let's go eat, I'm starving.”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“It's a surprise.” His thumb runs back and forth over my knuckles, sending a rush of tingles up my arm. I watch how he's touching me, my eyes keeping track of every finger. He's so gentle, kind, and tender.
It's crazy to me how his hands are so delicate despite being so rough. He works with them all day long. He isn't easy on his hands at all, but his touch, his touch is cashmere in disguise, like pure heaven on my skin.
The entire drive he holds my hand, not letting me go once, and I like it. I like how he cradles my hand in his, softly massaging my knuckles. His skin is hot, warming my palm.
“So,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze, “how old were you when you knew you wanted to grow plants and stuff?”
“About nine or so. My grandmother had me help her with her flower garden. I remember how amazing it was to see a plain old pile of dirt turn into a gorgeous array of flowers. I started taking out books from the library, and my mom even let me grow a little herb garden in our kitchen. My grandmother would then take the herbs and add them to her recipes.”
“Your grandmother used to cook?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I don't know. I guess I just assumed with who your family is. . .” He lets his voice drift off, allowing me to fill in his thought.
“My mother wasn't always this rich. She comes from a pretty regular family. My grandfather was a pipefitter and she was your typical housewife. But it all changed after my mother met my father in school. My dad's family had some money, but it was more their name that gave them a rise to fame. And my father used that to his advantage.”
“Wow, I had no idea.”
“Yeah, it's not really something I think my mother likes to remember. It seems like she's removed herself from that version of her life and only sees the woman is she now.”