“Do you want me to drive my car?” I ask Toby on our way out to the parking garage.

“Why?” he replies. “Are you ashamed to be seen in a pickup truck? Or afraid of my driving?”

“Neither,” I say.

“I washed the truck this morning and vacuumed the inside thoroughly,” he says. “It’s clean as a whistle.”

I give him a doubtful look since the last time we rode together in his truck, the passenger seat was covered in Sadie’s yellow hair and smelled of wet dog.

“I swear,” he says. “I wouldn’t put a girl looking as fine as you do right now in a dirty truck. Give me some credit. Do you see any dog hair on my pants?”

He turns around to give me a view of his fine backside.

“I don’t know. Let me feel and see.” I slide my hand across his muscular ass. “No hair here. I thought it might be easier for me to drive since I know the way,” I explain. “I can give you directions. Luckily it’s not too far. Only a couple of miles down the road.”

We reach his red truck and he grabs the door handle before I have a chance to open it myself.

“Hang on,” he says. “Let me get the door for you.”

He opens the door, and I grab the top of the doorframe to try to climb in. The truck is tall. Getting into the truck in my heels and tight dress is not going to be easy or graceful.

Toby laughs when I struggle to put one foot up inside the truck and my dress slides up my ass. He scoops me up with an arm around my waist and the other under my legs to deposit me gently on the seat.

“All you had to do was ask for help, darling,” he breathes against my hair. “I’ll pick you up and carry you wherever you want to go. Just say the word. I’m all yours.”

“Is that true?”

“What? That I’ll sling you over my shoulder and haul your pretty ass around like a sack of flour? Absolutely, I’ll do that in a heartbeat.”

“No,” I reply. “That you’re all mine.”

He grins and instead of answering shuts the truck door after making sure I’m all tucked inside. Going around to the driver’s side, he slides in and turns on the radio.

“What kind of music are you in the mood for?” he asks. “How about Waylon Jennings? Do you know him?”

I don’t have a clue who Waylon Jennings is. Apparently a country music singer from the woeful, sad song now playing on the radio.

“That’s fine with me,” I say.

He seems satisfied with my answer. I notice his arms tensing up on the drive down out of the parking garage, but he doesn’t say a word. Once we exit the parking garage and are outside in the sunlight, he visibly relaxes again.

“Whew!” he says. “Glad to be out of there.”

“Do you have something against parking garages?” I ask.

“I have something against dark spaces and driving around blind corners,” he replies. “Now that I’ve seen where you live, I’m worried about you. It doesn’t feel safe for a woman. How often do you work late at night?”

“Most of the time,” I reply. “Don’t worry. There’s multiple layers of security. I’m perfectly safe.”

Secretly I’m thrilled Toby is concerned for my welfare. It makes me feel good to know that my man cares about me.

My man.

Is that what Toby is now?

It’s certainly how it feels to me.

“Tell me what to expect at this shindig,” he says. “And remind me again of why I need to be there. Couldn’t the Mayor just mail my award to me? How big is this thing? Three feet tall?”

“Most people would love to have an invitation to dinner with the Mayor at the country club,” I remind him. “It’s an honor to be selected.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not most people, and my definition of honor is a little different than having dinner with a bunch of fancy people trying to impress each other.”

“You’re right,” I say. “And everything is about politics these days. If holding a fancy dinner and giving you an award didn’t win the Mayor points, he wouldn’t be doing it either. I realize this isn’t your idea of a good time. If nothing else, think of it as an opportunity to meet my family. Mom and Dad will there along with my sister, Nicole and her husband, Brad. They’re all looking forward to meeting you.”

Toby glances over at me. “Should I be worried?”

“Not at all,” I reassure. “They’ll love you. How could they not?”

* * *

“Maggie!”

My sister Nicole squeals loudly when she spots us walking into the lobby of the country club. “We’ve been waiting for you,” she says, rushing over and tugging her husband behind her.

Nicole grabs me in a big hug then turns to Toby. “I’m Nicole, the big sister. And you must be the one and only Toby. I’ve been dying to meet you. Maggie has told me so much about you.”

Not true.

I’ve barely said one word to Nicole about Toby, which was intentional. It’s not that I wanted to keep Toby a secret. It was more that I wanted to keep him all to myself. I’m still trying to get to know him, and sharing didn’t seem right. Not yet.

Toby gives Nicole a polite, guarded smile. He’s been here two minutes and is already uncomfortable. He reaches out to shake her hand then politely shakes Brad’s as well.

“I’m Toby. Nice to meet you both.”

“Same here,” Brad says. He takes off his black eyeglasses and cleans them with the handkerchief tucked into his suit pocket. “You’re quite the hero, Toby. I can’t imagine being the center of all this media attention. It was incredible how quickly the video of the shooting went viral.” He glances over at me. “How many views did it get, Maggie? Fifty million views in twenty-four hours? That’s quite a coup and amazing exposure for you. I hope you turned that into some big dollars.”

I’ve been around Brad enough to know that he can be a complete asshole at times without even trying. To compare the terrorist incident to a viral video is thoughtless to say the least. Toby’s eyes have gone chilly. This is going to be a long evening.

“Saving lives was my priority,” Toby replies coldly. “The media attention has been more of a pain in the ass than anything else. Except for Maggie.”

He reaches behind him to take my hand. When he touches it, he links his fingers through mine.

Nicole’s eyes drop down at our interlocked hands.

Okay, the secret is out. No point in denying or hiding my relationship with Toby any longer. I tighten my grip on his hand. We’re in this together now. One way or the other.

I stare back at her, defying her to say anything.

All she does is raise her eyebrows imperceptibly in a question. “Mom and Dad are already at the table,” she says, waving her hand toward the ballroom. “The Mayor is about to make his opening remarks in a few minutes, so we should be seated. You’re running late by the way. What kept you? I thought you said you would be here at seven, and you’re always so prompt. I was about to send out the rescue squad to search for you.”

“Heavy traffic,” Toby answers while giving my hand a little squeeze. “Lots of stopping and starting. You know how it is. You speed up and then have to slam on the brakes. Over and over.”

He winks at me behind Nicole’s back, and I try not to giggle as we follow them down the hallway. I love the feeling of the two of us against the world.

Dad sees us coming from across the room and stands up to greet us. He is distinguished as always with his thick grey hair and tailored dark suit. Mom is seated beside him in a demure light pink dress. She’s wearing her favorite pair of pearls with matching earrings.

Her face appears younger than when I saw her at Christmas. At first I can’t figure out why, then realize it’s due to her bi-monthly Botox shots and fillers for the lines in her face. As soon as the wrinkles start to show, she books an appointment at the day spa. Mom tries her best to maintain a youthful appearance. She says it’s because they’re photographed frequently for Atlanta’s society pages. I know it’s because she can’t stand the thought of getting old.

When we approach the table, Dad’s eyes slide from Toby’s freshly shined shoes, to our linked hands, all the way up to Toby’s curly hair that is a little too long and touching the collar of his uniform.

Dad never misses anything.

When I was growing up, I could never get away with the slightest bit of mischief because he could take one look at me and know I’d been up to something. “Maggie,” he would always say. “What have you done now?”

It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d already guessed before tonight that Toby and I were an item. To Dad’s credit, he is careful not to show the disapproval on his face.

He doesn’t need to.

I can feel it coming off him in waves.

Standing up on my tiptoes, I kiss Dad’s cheek then lean down to kiss Mom too.

“Dad, this is Toby,” I say, placing a hand on Toby’s arm. “I lived to see another day because of this man’s courage.”

Dad smiles warmly and reaches out to give Toby a firm handshake. “You don’t need to remind us of that,” he says. “We owe you our utmost gratitude, son. I don’t know how we would make it if something happened to one of our daughters. Thank you for protecting her.”

“I was thankful to have been there where I could,” Toby says.

“Come over here, dear, and have a seat beside me,” Mom says to Toby. “I want to hear all about you.” She pats the empty chair beside her.

We move around to her side of the table. I notice Toby glancing at the doors, which are directly behind where we’ll be sitting. He pulls out a chair for me and sits down beside Mom. After a second, he shifts his chair, angling it sideways where he can talk to her and still have a clear view of the doorway. I wonder what he’s going to do when the meal is served and he has no choice but to turn around completely to eat.

If given a choice, I would’ve preferred to put myself between him and my family. Hopefully he can hold his own with them. At least Mom can always be counted on to be polite and sugary sweet.

She’s one of those Southern women who can convincingly say “bless your heart” in a sympathetic voice while mentally fantasizing how she would stab you in the heart. Mom wouldn’t dare be rude to Toby no matter how she might feel about our relationship. It’s the rest of the family I’m worried about.

Nicole and Brad take their seats directly across the table from us. Brad makes a big show of carefully straightening his designer tie. Does he really think Toby will be impressed by his seven-hundred-dollar tie? Then I realize it’s not Toby he’s trying to impress, it’s Dad.

“How is the zoning for your new construction project going?” Brad asks Dad.

“Slow,” Dad replies. “Hopefully a little faster after tonight. All I need is a few minutes of the Mayor’s time to light a fire under the zoning commission. He knows where his bread has been buttered all these years. And if he doesn’t, I’ll remind him.”

We all laugh politely. Dad has been a heavy political donor to the Atlanta Mayor’s campaigns for years. If he wants something, he won’t stop until he gets it.

“So Toby,” Brad says. “I understand you were a Marine in Afghanistan. I assume that’s why you’re dressed the way you are.”

Toby clears his throat. “That’s right,” he says. “I was. I’ve been back a while.”

I slide my hand under the table and place it lightly on Toby’s leg. I can feel the tension in his thigh muscles.

“And what are you doing for a real job now that you’re back in the States?” Brad asks. He turns to peer up at the waiter beside him, who is pouring a sip of Chardonnay into his wineglass. After testing it, Brad nods his approval. “Very nice. Thank you. The wine has a nice, smoky finish.” The waiter turns the bottle so Brad can read the label.

I’m not sure why Brad is tasting the wine since he’s not paying for it. What would he do if the wine was awful? Send it back and demand a better bottle?

The waiter beams happily as if he stomped the grapes to make the wine himself and finishes pouring Brad’s glass. Brad takes another sip. “Excellent wine,” he says. “From one of my favorite vineyards in Napa Valley. We should go there again this fall for a weekend, Nicole.”

“Definitely,” Nicole replies emphatically.

She leans forward, giving Toby a clear view of her ample breasts across the table. A gift from Brad after her last baby to ward off post-partum depression. According to her, nothing beats breast implants and a vaginal rejuvenation procedure to lift a new mother’s mood.

“Last year we shipped home cases of wine from several boutique wineries in Napa,” she says. “Specialty wines that you can’t buy here. It was well worth the trip to stock our wine cellar. You two should come over one night for a wine tasting.”

What fun that would be. I resist the urge to roll my eyes at Toby.

“I’m sorry,” Brad says, turning his attention back to Toby. “With all this talk about wine, we didn’t give you a chance to answer. What is it you do now for a living?”

Toby clears his throat again and drinks half a glass of water before answering. “I work on cars. You know…detailing them. Fixing them up for resale. That kind of thing.”

“Sports cars, I presume?” Brad asks. “I know a man in Buckhead who runs a shop…Ferraris, Porsches. The occasional Lamborghini.”

“No, Buicks,” Toby replies with a straight face. “Ford trucks, Nissans, just normal cars that need body work done for regular people.”

“Oh,” Brad replies, clearly disappointed the conversation didn’t shift to sports cars, where he could wow us all with his vast knowledge. “You own the body shop then? I can imagine there would be good money in that. The last time someone dinged my car door with a shopping cart, it cost over two thousand dollars to fix. It’s outrageous what the body shop charged for repairs.”

Toby shakes his head. “I work for someone else. My buddies Rocco and Donny own the shop. They’re good guys and easy to work for.”

Dad is appalled. “Surely you must have plans to start your own shop one day?” he asks with a frown. “Owning your own business is the best way to make it these days, son. There’s no need to work for someone else only to line their pockets. I started out as a young man with nothing.”

Oh no. Here we go again with Dad’s spiel. Nicole catches my eye and winks at me. We’ve heard it so many times before.

“I borrowed fifty dollars as a down payment on my first tiny house in a run-down section of Atlanta. Fixed it up, sold it for more. The rest is history. Now I own apartment complexes and office buildings across the city. Never limit yourself by just being an employee. Don’t work for the man, be the man. That’s what I always told myself.”

Dad is only getting started on his business philosophy. I’ve heard it so many times that I can recite it by heart. Now that he has a new audience to listen to him, he won’t stop all night. I squeeze Toby’s leg to let him know I understand this isn’t fun and I’m right there with him.

“I can’t abandon my bosses right now,” Toby says firmly. “They gave me a job when nobody else was willing to when I returned from Afghanistan. They depend on me and they treat me right. I’ve got no complaints. I’m not going to leave them to start a competing business. It wouldn’t be the right thing to do. Especially since we’re in a small town. There’s no room for two body shops in Bardsville.”

Dad leans back in his chair. I can tell by the resignation on his face that he’s already written Toby off. I doubt he’ll be asking him many more questions tonight. He glances over at me and I can see everything he’s thinking in his eyes.

That Toby is below us.

That I deserve someone better.

For the first time in my life, I’m feeling ashamed by the fakeness of my family. I’ve lived with it so long that I never questioned it before.

Brad nods as if he understands perfectly what Toby is saying. “I’ve heard about the servicemen having trouble finding jobs when they come back home,” he says. “It’s understandable when you think about it. For one thing, they don’t have any real skills or training. The military should offer them night classes in accounting or coding while they’re stationed over there in the desert. I’m sure they have lots of extra time on their hands. All they do is drive around in convoys hunting for Taliban who aren’t there anymore. I mean, Osama Bin Laden is long gone. What’s the point? It is such a waste of our resources. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Toby picks up his fragile crystal water glass and twirls the stem between his thumb and forefinger. I’m half-expecting him to snap it. “They’re still around,” Toby says calmly. “Along with other enemy insurgents. There’s plenty enough work to keep the troops busy and not a lot of free time.”

He glances over his shoulder again toward the doorway for the umpteenth time. I can tell it’s making him nervous to sit with his back to the door, and it’s making me anxious to watch him fidget.

“Nicole, would you and Brad mind switching places with us?” I interrupt. “Toby prefers to sit where he can see the door. Because of the shooting and everything. You understand, don’t you?”

Nicole’s eyes widen. “Sure,” she says with a tiny smile. “Whatever makes Toby feel more comfortable.” I’m the only one who can pick up the hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Brad looks confused and points to his glass. “But the wine has already been poured,” he says. He waves a hand at his plate. “And the waiter has taken our orders.”

Nicole stands up and taps his shoulder. “Grab your glass and let’s switch places with them. Stop arguing. It’s not a big deal. They gave us two choices, chicken or pasta. Surely the waiter can figure it out if we move.” She rolls her eyes at me over his head.

Toby doesn’t say anything when we play musical chairs and all switch places. When we’re settled into our seats again, I mouth a ‘thank you’ across the table to Nicole. On rare occasions, my big sister has been known to come through for me. This is one of those times.

Brad makes an exaggerated point of glancing back over his shoulder at the door as Toby was previously doing. “Is there anything back there I should be watching for too?” he jokes. “If men come in with guns blazing, I prefer for Toby to see them first. Since I left my shotgun at the house.” He laughs loudly at his joke that nobody else finds funny.

I take a deep breath and try to give Toby a reassuring smile. I’m ready for the night to be over and the first course hasn’t even been served. I’m relieved when the Mayor steps up to the podium to give his opening remarks. This isn’t the first award ceremony I’ve attended since covering similar events is part of my job description. I know what to expect, and I’ve briefed Toby so he’ll be prepared.

The Mayor’s speech is almost word-for-word the same as always except for copying and pasting a few additional details. He thanks Toby for his heroism and reminds the crowd of how heroes are the ones who step up even when it means putting their own lives at risk.

When he calls Toby’s name and asks him to come up for the award, I hold my breath. All Toby needs to do is accept the award, thank him politely, and walk back to the table. I’ve gone over all this with him before tonight. He doesn’t need to give a speech or even to say a few words. Nothing but a ‘thank you’ and he’ll be done.

When Toby steps up beside the Mayor in his uniform, a surprising and overwhelming feeling of emotion comes over me, causing unexpected tears to spring into my eyes.

I’m so proud of him.

And honored to be with him, to call him mine.

Toby is everything I’ve ever wanted in a man.

I’m hopelessly, completely in love with him. I have been since the very first day.

The Mayor says a few words and hands him the plaque. Toby shakes his hand, thanks him in his husky, deep voice, and walks back to his seat. I stand up to greet him. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my hair. Closing my eyes, I melt into his warm chest. I don’t care who sees us or what they think.

This man is mine for keeps.