“If you love me, why the hell are you giving me such a hard time?”

The old man wasn’t handling this as well as he should, so Dean slipped his arm around his mother’s shoulders. “Because she’s done with fly-by-night relationships, and that’s pretty much all you’re offering. Isn’t that right, April?” He turned back to his father. “You’ll take her to dinner a couple of times and then forget she exists.”

“That’s bull,” Jack shot back. “And whose side are you on anyway?”

Dean thought it over. “Hers.”

“Thanks a lot.” Jack’s earring bobbled as he jerked his head toward the house. “Make yourself scarce, too. Your mother and I have a few things to settle.”

“Yes, sir.” Dean snatched a water bottle and disappeared. He wanted to be by himself anyway.

Jack grabbed April by the arm and hauled her inside the barn where they could have a little privacy. He was burning up, and not just from the midday heat. He was burning up from guilt, from fear, from lust, and from hope. The dusty barn still held the faint scent of hay and manure. He backed April against a stall.

“Don’t you ever again say that all I want from you is sex. Do you hear me?” He gave her a little shake. “I love you. How could I not love you? We’re almost the same person. I want a future with you. And I think you should have let me figure that out on my own without trying to convince our son I’m a sleaze.”

April couldn’t be intimidated. “Exactly when did you realize you loved me?”

“Right away.” He saw the skepticism in her eyes. “Maybe not the first night. Maybe not exactly right away.”

“How about yesterday?”

He wanted to lie, but he couldn’t. “My heart knew it, but my head hadn’t completely sorted it out.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “You were braver than me. The moment you said those words out there, it was like this big egg cracked open and I could finally see what was inside.”

“Which was…?”

“A heart filled with love for you. My sweet April.”

His voice choked with emotion, but she was tough, and she looked him straight in the eye. “Tell me more.”

“I’ll write you a song.”

“You’ve already done that. Who could forget your memorable lyric about ‘blond beauty in a body bag’?”