The Lemon Sisters (Wildstone #3)(71)

Garrett ran a hand over his face, and not for the first time caught his dad making the same gesture at the exact same time. They stared at each other.

His dad gave a very small smile. “The apple and the tree and all that.”

“You need to come stay with me.”

“That’s a very kind offer,” he said, without an ounce of sarcasm, which was more than Garrett could’ve managed. “But I can’t put you out like that.”

“The nights are still cold, Dad. You clearly need money, and watching you in that job, having to lift heavy stuff . . .” Garrett shook his head. “Just come stay for a few days until we figure something else out.”

His dad looked away, his jaw muscles working as the famous Montgomery pride battled common sense, but he eventually gave a single nod. “Okay. Thanks. But just for a few days.”

When Garrett pulled into his driveway a few minutes later, his dad’s beat-up old truck followed. They got out and Garrett looked at Snoop. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. “I’ve got Ann’s cats. They hate dogs.”

“Snoop can handle them,” his dad said.

Sitting at his dad’s feet, Snoop smiled around his tennis balls. He was game.

But Garrett shook his head. Snoop wasn’t near tough enough for this. “Let me go in first and try to corral them into the laundry room—”

“Son,” his dad said. “Trust me.”

Garrett gave him a look.

His dad nodded. “Okay, so you’re not on the trust-me train, I get that.” He put his hand on the porch railing and closed his eyes.

Garrett frowned and set a hand on his dad’s arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just tired.”

“When did you eat last?”

His dad turned to Snoop. “Do you remember? It was breakfast, right? You had a leftover burger that the nice lady at the campsite gave us.”

“I mean when was the last time you ate,” Garrett said.

His dad shrugged, and Garrett shook his head. “I’ll make us something right away.” He opened the front door. “Be cool,” he told the dog. “They’re going to bitch at you, and I can’t help that. I promised Ann they’d be safe until they die, but I’m pretty sure they’re immortal.”

The so-called welcoming committee was waiting. The three of them froze in unison when they caught sight of Snoop, sending him death glares.

Snoop stayed still, panting softly due to the heat, but—and Garrett would swear this on a stack of Bibles—smiling at the cats.

The old biddies slowly came forward to inspect poor Snoop. They circled him, sniffing at him like they smelled something rotten. To his credit, Snoop just sat quietly, accepting, bowing his head to each cat so she could sniff his face. Finally, the cats got bored, turned their attention to Garrett, and demanded food.

“Are you kidding me?” Garrett asked in disbelief. “Where’s the dog hate?”

The ladies turned their expressions into mirrors of innocence.

His dad was walking through the place slowly, craning his neck to take it all in. “You’ve been renovating.”

“No. I mean, yeah, but not lately.”

“Why not?”

Garrett loved this old house, but it needed a lot of TLC, which he hadn’t devoted to it in a long time. He had more jobs than he knew what to do with, but that wasn’t what was holding him up. He figured what was the rush, when he wasn’t close to filling it with a family of his own?

“I used to take you on my jobs with me sometimes,” his dad said, running his hand along a ladder leaning against the foyer wall.

“I remember.”

His dad looked up in surprise. “You do?”

“I remember you taking me to Caro’s Café to fix some electrical problem in their kitchen. The owner, Carolyn, used to feed me. Once I dropped a plate and it broke. You told her you did it.”

His dad shook his head. “Don’t remember that. But what I do remember is Carolyn’s cooking. She’s passed now, I hear. Her daughters have taken over the café. Wonder if either of them cooks like their momma.” He nudged the toe of his boot against a metal toolbox that had seen better days. “Well, would you look at that.”

“It was Ann’s,” Garrett said. “She passed it down to me.”

His dad had an odd look on his face.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Dad, it’s something. Speak your peace.”

“Those are my tools, my toolbox. I gave them to her to give to you when you were ready for them.”

So all this time he’d been using his dad’s tools. He had no idea how to feel about that. Mad? Sad? Maybe a combination of both. There’d been a point in his life, several points, when in spite of Ann’s love, he’d felt unwanted. Unworthy. And most definitely pissed off at the world. He had plenty of anger left over for his dad, and he wondered now, if he’d known the guy had come back, seen him happy, and chosen to let him stay and continue being happy . . . would that have changed anything?

They both turned at the sound of glass breaking.

Snoop’s tail had swept a glass off the coffee table.

“Damn,” his dad said. “Sorry, son.” Moving forward, he dropped to his knees to reach for the glass shards. “Snoop’s new at this whole inside thing.”