"Busy?" Uh-oh. Premonition trickled down her spine like the beads of condensation on her mother's glass.
"He's out on the porch waiting to talk to Scorch."
"Sir, huh."
The sardonic words from an obviously pissed off papa echoed across the lawn as Carson opened his truck door in the Price driveway. Looming on the porch, J.T. pinned him with a shotgun-father look as piercing as any bullet, illuminated all too clearly by the lamppost.
Carson finished stepping from his truck, not at all surprised to find J.T. waiting for him. They'd both known he would come by, an unspoken agreement.
At least the irate father hadn't made a scene at the squadron in front of everyone, because Carson damn well wouldn't have stood for Nikki's name being tossed around. As if she hadn't already been through enough gossip lately.
Thank God, her father apparently felt the same.
But now, after all the welcome-home partying was done, there was no more evading the question that had dogged the man's eyes throughout the evening.
"About that 'sir' thing..." Carson climbed the front steps, meeting J.T. face-to-face. "You caught me unaware. My nanny ingrained in me young to respect my elders."
"Elders?" Biceps flexed inside his flight suit. "You're really not getting on my good side today…sir. And I'm thinking it's important to you to be on my good side."
No-damn-kidding. Nikki was tight with her family, one of the many things he respected about her, and he refused to cause friction in the Price household. "I don't want to cause your daughter any grief and if you're upset that would upset her very much."
A vein pulsed in J.T.'s temple, a bad sign from such a usually laid-back guy. "Is there something going on with you and my baby girl?"
Baby girl?
Carson exhaled a long stream of cloudy air. He was definitely too old for this. But then he was dating a much younger woman, and hell, he wished his own parents had given a crap about his sister. He searched for the right words, the whole tongue-tied feeling completely alien for him, but then choosing the right words had never felt so important.
J.T. stepped closer, nose to nose and apparently more than a little miffed at Carson's extended silence. "Sir, I'm finding it hard to remember you're an officer. I'm finding it even tougher not to kick your ass off my porch."
"Go ahead. I was the one who peeled away the rank in there when I called you sir."
"It's one thing if you're seriously dating, but if you're using her—"
Anger snapped. "Hold it right there." He didn't get outright mad often, but then nothing was logical in his head when it came to Nikki. "I respect your daughter and count myself one lucky bastard that she chooses to be with me."
J.T. pivoted on his boot heels away, chewing on a curse worthy of the saltiest of crewdogs.
Well damn. That was a little insulting.
A lot insulting.
He understood about the older man's wish for a nonmilitary life for his kids, but hell, he wasn't a total slouch.
J.T. cricked his neck from side to side before turning back around. "Is this serious? And don't tell me to ask her. I'm speaking with you."
Carson stepped alongside the old loadmaster and leaned his elbows on the porch railing while a rusted-out truck chugged past, exhaust mingling with the scent of mulchy leaves. He scrounged around for the right words to make this better for Nikki, for this man he'd flown combat with, a lasting bond. "I've heard you say for years no flyboys for your little girl. Was that bull?"
"I want an easier life for her than this—" he gestured back and forth to their uniforms "—a husband who's always gone, and getting shot at too often."
Husband. He didn't even bother denying the possibility existed. He tried a different tack. "You're speaking from a raw place right now because of the bombing and how close it hit."
"Could be." J.T. nodded a concession, ever fair. "Still, the military makes relationships tough enough, and I suspect you've got some extra stresses mixed in battling a drinking problem."
Ah. The real reason he disapproved. Somehow the seasoned chief master sergeant had figured it out when no one else had. "What makes you think that?"
"I don't talk much, but I'm always watching, and you go out of your way to avoid drinking, overly so."
"Plenty of people don't drink for any number of reasons."