Page 39 of Forbidden Cowboy

“It’s time.” Faye scoots away from the window. Wilma follows her to a booth tucked away but within hearing distance.

I slip over to Kiwi’s side of the bar. While Bucky has a rustic country vibe to his bar, Kiwi’s bottle-green walls, bronze pipes and bamboo to create privacy booths has a more earthy tone.

“This is a bad idea.” Kiwi chops a tomato. The halves roll on either side of the knife. “We’re about to have a come-to-Jesus meetin’.”

“Hush now.” I take a deep breath as the door opens. I rush straight into my mama’s open arms.

“I see your weekend went good,” she whispers in my ear.

“It did.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” She kisses the side of my head and steps back in-line with my papa. “Henry, hug your daughter.”

My papa eyes me under his grey bushy eyebrows. “You come to your senses?” He’s referring to his hope that I ditched Levi in Louisiana.

“My senses have never been clearer.”

His eyes soften and light up for the first time in weeks. I only wish it was for my happiness and not his own selfishness. He wraps his massive arms around me and I pray this isn’t the last time. I pray we all walk out of here on good terms.

“What the hell is he doing here?” My papa growls over my shoulder.

“Henry, behave. I told you—”

He wrenches out of my grasp and storms around me. “You never told me nothing about no Wilde.” He points at Levi. “You think you can kidnap my daughter and do whatever the hell you want with her!”

“Papa!” I have to run to get in front of his long strides. “Stop!” I shove his chest and he nearly slams into me Levi.

“I dare you to put a hand on my son, Fox.” I’m thankful a table separates my papa from Mr. and Mrs. Wilde.

“Mr. Fox, I would never disrespect your daughter.”

“Horseshit. The rumours going around are plenty dis-fucking-respectful.”

“Papa, he didn’t start those rumours. Your feud with his family did.”

“Henry, you agreed to sit down and eat with Hope, so let’s take a seat.”

“I ain’t eating with no Wilde.”

“I ain’t eating with no Fox.”

“Sit down, Calvin.” Levi’s mother points to a chair and Mr. Wilde grumbles into the seat.

“You too.” My mama takes the upper hand and I’m grateful when my papa sits down.

Levi pulls out a chair for me before he takes his. We sit on each end of the table, smack dab in the middle of both bars. In the middle of our family’s feud.

The table is dead silent. Our fathers rage a scowling war. Our mothers share half smiles.

“On the menu tonight is barbecue pulled pork accompanied by my famous hush puppies,” Wilma interrupts the sparring match, joined by Faye carrying plates of steaming meals.

“These yummy golden fritters are made from a thick cornmeal-based batter.” Wilma serves the Wilde side.

“Thank you,” I say when Faye sets a plate in front of me.

“The batter is fried until crisp outsides and chewy tender insides—”

“We all know what hush puppies are.” Mr. Wilde pops a whole one in his mouth.