Blitz: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy (Blast Brothers Book 3), стр. 63

Except I wasn't sixteen. I was almost thirty. And Mina was plenty old enough to be doing whatever the hell she wanted.

As far as the face in the passenger's side window, Mina didn't turn around to look. I was pretty sure I knew why. If her mom was on the passenger's side, that could only mean one thing.

A tap at the driver's side window made me turn to look. Sure enough, there he was – Mina's dad, looking like he wanted to rip out my liver and feed it to the hogs.

Whose hogs?

Well, that was his problem, not mine.

From the passenger's seat, Mina whispered, "Hey, can you roll down the windows?"

I could. I just didn't know if I wanted to. Still, I hit the button for both sides and returned my attention to her dad.

He leaned closer and gave me a hard look. "Car trouble?"

Mina spoke up. "No. We're fine. I, um, just mentioned there might be a noise in the trunk, so we pulled over. And, well, I guess we got distracted, that's all."

The dad muttered, "So I noticed." He looked to Mina and asked, "You need a lift?"

"No," she said. "I mean, Chase is dropping me off, so…" But then she paused. "Wait a minute, what are you two doing out?"

The mom spoke up. "We were playing Euchre with the Krepkes."

It was a card game, one I'd played every once in a while as a teenager. Not so much these days.

When I looked back to Mina's dad, he gritted out, "So you wanna check the trunk?"

Mina spoke up. "Actually, I'm sure it's fine."

But the dad wasn't having it. "Yeah, but that's why you stopped, right?"

He was messing with me. I was sure of it.

But what the hell was I gonna do? I mean, beating his ass was out of the question. And forget being rude. By now, Mina and I had been a couple for barely five minutes. And family was important to her, which meant that I'd be smart to be on my best behavior.

I looked back to the dad and extended my hand. "Hey, I'm Chase. Nice to meet you."

He eyed my hand like he wanted to yank it off and beat me in the face with it. He made no move to shake it.

From the passenger's side, the mom said, "Oh, Bob. Shake the guy's hand, will you?"

I kid you not. The guy actually growled when he finally extended his hand and gave mine a squeeze so hard, it would've gotten blood from a turnip. The smartass in me wanted to squeeze back twice as hard. But for Mina's sake, I didn't.

Instead, I grinned up at him, as if to say, "That's all you've got, old man?"

Turns out, it wasn't. By the time he was done, my hand was numb and tingling. When he finally let go, he flicked his head toward the rear of the car and said, "Now come on. Let's go check it."

Obviously, he meant the trunk. Shit.

Still, I could be a good sport, right? I looked to Mina and said, "Hang on. I'll be right back."

Outside the car, the guy didn't waste any time. When I opened the trunk, he gave it only a cursory glance before turning to face me. "Nice hammer."

If he meant the one in the trunk's tool pouch, I knew it was nice. It was our top seller, and I'd had a hand in its design.

In a careful voice, I replied, "Thanks."

"Care if I borrow it?"

I did, actually – because judging from the look in his eyes, the only thing he wanted to hammer was my face. But hell if I'd be the one to show fear. With a loose shrug, I said, "Sure. Go ahead."

As I watched, he reached into the trunk and pulled the hammer from the pouch. He held the hammer loose in his big, meaty hand, as if testing its weight, before he raised it like a weapon.

I didn't flinch, but fuck knows I wanted to.

"So," he said, "You do this a lot?"

"Do what a lot?"

"Suck face on the side of the road?"

I gave the hammer a wary glance. "We weren't sucking face."

"That's one opinion. Not mine."

He wasn't the only one with an opinion. And it was time to remind him of something. "In case you forgot, your daughter's twenty-five, not fifteen."

"I know," he said, "which is why I'm being so friendly about it."

Oh, yeah? If this was friendly, I'd hate to see the opposite. Still, he wasn't the only one who was getting pissed off. "Yeah, well, I'm being friendly, too."

He looked toward the car's front passenger's side, where his daughter was still sitting, talking to her mom through the open window. The dad looked back to me and said, "Shit. If you were any 'friendlier,' you'd be buck naked."

On this, the guy might have a point, but hell if I'd admit it.

The truth was, I'd fallen down on the job, not by kissing Mina on the roadside, but by getting so lost in her kiss that I hadn't kept a better eye on our surroundings.

It was a mistake, one I wouldn't be making again – but not because of her dad. It was just smarter to keep an eye out, that's all.

When my only reply was a tight shrug, her dad lowered the hammer and announced, "I'm keeping this."

I frowned. What the hell?

I didn't care about the hammer. I had a million more where that came from. But obviously, there was more to the story. I just didn't know what.

I replied, "Oh, yeah? Why?"

"Because," he said, "if you ever hurt my daughter, I know exactly where I'll be shoving this thing." He grinned. "And just so you know, the handle goes last."

I drew back. What the ever-loving fuck?

What does a guy say to that?

Nothing, as it turned out, because just then, Mina's mom, along with Mina, joined us at the rear of the car. Mina's mom lowered her head and peered into the trunk. "Well…" she said