Which means, I choose Blue no matter what.
Our driver pulls up in front of the restaurant—a crepe bistro which doesn’t sound all that hearty to me and I need to carbo-load before the game. I help Blue from the car and shut the door.
We’re a bit early, so we grab a table and peruse the menu while we wait for my father. Blue looks extremely lovely today. Minnesota in mid-November is radically different from Arizona. Whereas in Phoenix she could be wearing shorts or a dress—or a bikini on a warmer than average day—today she’s dressed for the chilly forty-one degrees in a pair of jeans, a soft-looking ivory sweater with a V-neck that shows a hint of cleavage, and black knee-high boots. Her navy blue peacoat looks old and worn, but it’s still stylish because Blue could make a burlap sack look good. She still has her hair pulled back in a low ponytail on her neck, which is usually how she wears it on the plane to keep it out of the way. Because she had to work the morning flight here, she’s wearing makeup which definitely enhances her beauty but feels odd to me since she doesn’t normally wear it on other occasions.
From our table, I see the restaurant door open and my dad walks in. Pierce Dalhbeck doesn’t look a day over forty, which is why I guess younger women are attracted to him. He’s in peak physical shape and there’s not a gray hair on his head. As an attorney, he makes big bucks and his clothing reflects that. His jeans are designer, his shoes are Italian made and his Octo Finissimo watch by Bulgari screams outrageous wealth, although I’m the one that bought it for him for Christmas two years ago.
My dad’s gaze scans the interior of the restaurant and I wave to him. I can feel Blue tense as she looks over her shoulder. My dad sees me, smiles, and waves back. The lines around his eyes are barely perceptible and I wonder if he’s had some plastic surgery.
Pushing my chair back from the table, I rise to greet my dad as he walks our way. Blue does the same thing, nervously wringing her hands together. I shoot her a reassuring smile before I turn to accept a huge hug from my dad.
“Good to see you, buddy,” he says as he wraps his arms around me—one over my shoulder, the other around my ribs—before clapping me on the back hard. My dad and I are about the same height and build. I stand at 6’ 4” and 220 pounds, so trust me when I say, the hug and back clap knock the breath out of me.
He lets me go and we both turn to Blue. I make the quick introduction. “Dad…this is my girlfriend, Blue Gardner. Blue…my dad, Pierce Dalhbeck.”
My dad shoots me a surprised look which is obvious to Blue that I didn’t fill him in on her yet. She bites down into her lower lip nervously.
Quickly recovering, my dad turns to Blue with a smile in place so charming, I know it’s dropped panties on some women. He reaches out, takes her hand, and lifts it to his mouth. After lightly grazing his lips across the back, he brings his other hand up to clasp it tight and leans back slightly to take her in. His gaze is slow as it moves down her body and back up again, not even bothering to speed up over her breasts. He takes a good look and then says in a low, seductive voice. “Blue…it’s really wonderful to meet you.”
I grit my teeth, only because I don’t want Blue to be uncomfortable. I accepted the way my dad treats women a long time ago, and frankly…I did the same thing in the not too-distant past.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dalhbeck,” she says and my lips twitch. That’s Blue’s way of putting him in his place because whether it’s my dad or not, she’s not the type of woman to suffer cheap come-ons.
“Please…you must call me Pierce,” he says solicitously and then escorts her back to her chair. Gallantly pulling it out, he has her sit back down and lets go of her hand only when she tugs it free.
My dad takes his seat in between us and turns to me. Voice all filled with pride and machismo, he leans in as if it’s a secret but it’s loud enough for Blue to hear. “Well done, Erik. She’s absolutely gorgeous.”
“Okay, knock it off, Dad,” I say with a playful punch to his shoulder. But my voice is firm enough that he gets my drift. “Blue’s not the type to fall for that shit.”
His smile to me is sly before he turns to Blue. Crossing his forearms on the table, he leans toward her slightly. “So how did you and my son meet, Blue?”