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A petite girl stands behind him. She has long dark hair, silky straight, and she smiles shyly at me. “Nice to meet you, Julia.” Her smile grows a little bigger.

My father stands and waves at them both.

Tommy steps back and takes Julia’s hand. “Have you seen Dylan? He’s supposed to meet us here.” There’s a tinge of anger to his tone. I look around and see Dylan by the door. His eyes are cold—in a way I haven’t seen in a long time. I attempt a small wave but drop my hand when he walks toward us.

There’s something odd happening here. Tommy’s stiffness and Dylan’s cold stare. Dylan’s arms are crossed over his chest and his shoulders are pulled back, making him seem even taller. Julia’s gaze jumps between all of us and then away. Awkward silence ensues.

My father moves his chair back and steps around it with a hand extended toward Dylan. “Hi. I’m Becca’s father, nice to meet you.”

Dylan shakes his hand.

“Father?” Tommy glances at Dylan and back at my father.

Tommy shakes my father’s hand next. “You don’t look old enough to be Becca’s father.”

“Good genes run in the family,” my father jokes and winks at me. There’s curiosity in his eyes.

Everything clicks into place then. Tommy and Dylan thought I was with a guy on a date or something like that. They might not be the only ones. Several people watch the exchange. Familiar faces from Riggins, mostly students, but a few employees too.

“This is my father, Robert.” I gesture at my father. The word dad stuck in my throat. “And this is my friend Tommy and Dy—his brother, Professor Beckett. And Tommy’s girlfriend, Julia.”

My father gestures at the table. “Do you want to join us? We can get a couple more chairs.”

Dylan shakes his head and speaks for the first time. “Thank you, but we don’t want to disrupt your family time.” He glances at me. “Miss Jones, I’ll see you around.”

Being called by my last name after what we shared is jarring, but necessary. Female gazes follow him across the room and to a table in the corner behind me where he sits with Tommy and Julia. The urge to look at him, see what he’s doing, has me standing still.

My father sits down, and I do the same, divided between being glad and annoyed that I can’t see Dylan, but he can see me.

My father’s all too knowing eyes are on me. They crinkle in the corners. “A professor, huh?” There’s no judgment in his tone, not even a little.

“He’s not my professor.” I pull my chair in.

“That’s better, I guess.” He is still smiling.

“What do you mean?” Honesty be damned, I’ll deny this ’til the end.

“I don’t know.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “He looked pretty pissed until I introduced myself. And, by the way he keeps glancing at us, I’m not sure he believes it.”

I hold the end of the table to keep myself from turning my body to look at Dylan. There’s no way to discreetly do this.

“I’m happy for you. I like your friends. I can tell they care.”

“How? How can you tell from just meeting them for a couple of minutes?” I let go of the edge of the table, grab a fork and pick at my cold pancakes.

“Easy. You didn’t see them when they walked in. I did. There was pure happiness in that young boy’s face when he saw you. Then his brows scrunched when he looked at me. And your”—he lowers his voice—“professor, had the same reaction, but in a much more subtle way.”

I try to fight a smile and fail. “They’re good people.”

He looks around. Pushes his empty plate away. Leans into the table again. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I’ve never earned that right, and even if I had, you’re an adult and a smart one at that.” He nods once. “Be discreet and careful. And if he hurts you in any way, call me. I can still kick his ass.”

I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. I do both. I’m still wiping the corners of my eyes as we get up to leave. My gaze immediately goes to Dylan. His eyes soften for the space of a breath before turning aloof and away from me.

My father walks me to my car, and we hug goodbye. I unlock the driver door.

“Becca?”

He’s standing on the other side of my car.