His gaze shifted. Her father was a little taller than Wes, a lot bulkier, and had twice as many tattoos as his son. A sudden jolt of nervousness surprised him.
Tara had already greeted them and now Wes felt their attention zero in on him. Her mother offered a polite smile, which he returned, but once he met her father’s eyes, he understood the reason for Tara’s strange apology. Without saying a single word, the man radiated intimidation. Wes stood a little straighter as Tara looked at him.
“Wes, this is my mom, Jackie, and my dad, Kurt. Mom, Dad, this is Wes Carter.”
Kurt Russell extended his hand. “Carter…Tara’s never mentioned you before.”
Wes cautiously accepted the man’s handshake. “We’ve just met.”
“He’s visiting from Denver,” Tara said at the same time. Kurt’s grip threatened to crush Wes’s hand, and given her brother’s reaction to his tatt, he was relieved Charlie’s borrowed shirt covered his artwork for the most part.
“What brings you to town?” Kurt asked.
Once his hand was free, Wes dropped it to his side instead of shaking and flexing his fingers to make sure they weren’t broken. “I’m checking out the area.”
Kurt’s eyes narrowed as they shifted to his daughter, then back to Wes. “You thinking of moving here?”
“I’m considering relocating my business here, yes,” Wes explained, resisting the urge to look at Tara. Actually, he’d already made the decision, but felt an instinctive need to exercise caution at this moment.
Kurt seemed to puff up and grow another inch. “What kind of business you in, son?”
Before Wes could answer, Tara’s mother elbowed her husband in the side. “Knock it off, Kurt.” As Kurt shifted his feet, Jackie smiled at Wes and shook his hand with a firm grip of her own. “It’s nice to meet you, Wes. Welcome to Redemption, and I hope you like it here.”
“Thank you, I do so far.” This time he glanced at Tara without even meaning to. The moment he saw her nervous smile, he redirected his attention, but unfortunately, her father had caught the slip-up and now looked ready to deck him.
“Are you two staying for the band?” Tara asked her parents in a rushed tone. “I saw them last week at Rowdy’s—they’re really good.”
Her mother linked her arm with Kurt’s. “Probably. We’re meeting the rest of the gang to finalize the details of next weekend’s bike rally. Hey—were you here for the excitement earlier?”
Tara shook her head, and her mom explained, “Lauren Frazier’s boy, Max, almost fell from the top of the Ferris wheel.”
“Oh my God, is he okay?” Tara exclaimed. “What happened?”
“Caleb Hunter—you remember Rosalee’s son?—he climbed up and caught him until they could get the fire truck over there. Saved his life.”
“Wow, thank God. I’ll have to call Lauren. I thought he looked familiar earlier, but didn’t make the connection—it was so long ago that he left town,” Tara said.
“I always liked Rosalee’s son,” her father stated. “He served in the military.”
Wes’ gaze shifted to meet Kurt’s stone-cold challenging eyes. The man’s message was clear—Wes wasn’t good enough for his daughter.
Tara tugged Wes’s arm as she began to back away. “Well, you kids have fun,” she joked, though her voice was anxious. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jackie nodded, Kurt glared, and Wes barely had time to say, “Nice to meet you,” before Tara dragged him off the fair grounds. He felt daggers plunging between his shoulder blades and fought a strong urge to hunch and duck. As it was, he kept his chin level, resisted looking back, and decided he’d be pressing his luck on more than one level if he let Tara keep touching him.
Gently pulling free of her iron grip, he admonished, “Ease up, there, Sugar.”
Her step slowed, and Wes drew alongside instead of being pulled one step behind. He bent forward to see her face as they walked, but she stared straight ahead instead of smiling at his dog joke. He tried again, making sure to inject more humor in his voice as he asked, “Sooo…if Charlie’s overprotective, what does that make your dad?”
“A prison guard,” she shot back. “Maximum security.” Then he heard her heave a sigh now that the noise of the fair were behind them. “Sorry.”
“You are a chronic apologizer,” Wes said.
She smiled briefly. “I know, I can’t help it…but I’m sorry he was such a—”
“There you go again.” He shook his head. “It’s okay, you know. It’s kinda his job.”
He took two steps before he realized she’d stopped and now stood glaring at him. “His job to do what—treat me like one of the inmates where he works?”