Randy shivered against a gust of wind, snapped off the flashlight, and dropped it on the seat. “Besides,” he added, slamming the truck door, “he’s not that old.”
He pretended not to notice the smirk on his father’s face when they met up with each other at the porch. “Up for a drink?” his dad asked.
“Always.” Randy waited while his dad opened the front door and eyed his father as he stepped past. “And I wasn’t kidding. The guy can be a self-important ass. All ‘do this’ and ‘do that’ and ‘don’t talk to me unless I speak to you’ kind of guy. Trust me, there is nothing there.”
“Mm-hm,” his father nodded, toeing off his shoes. “Make mine a brandy, will you?” He was still grinning as he headed down the hallway. “I’ll let you mother know we’re back in.”
* * * *