Shame on Him

Perfect. And now he thinks the only reason I’m a lawyer is because it pays well. Won’t he be surprised when he finds out I was bred for this job and further manipulated into it with years of guilt?

Wait, what am I saying? He’s not going to find that out because he needs to leave right now. I need to get him away from here before they see him.

“This isn’t Miles Harper’s home; it’s where my parents live! I’m here for dinner with them, not going behind your back to meet with Miles,” I tell him, throwing my arms up in irritation.

I leave out the part about how I was fully planning on finding Miles after dinner. I’m too livid at his audacity right now to deal with semantics.

“Lorelei, what on earth are you doing standing out in the driveway? Mrs. Cooper has already set out the first course.”

I freeze at the sound of my mother’s voice.

“I wish you would have told me you were bringing a guest,” she complains.

I watch her turn in the entryway, rushing back into the house, and know she’s left to complain to my father about having to set an extra place, even if she hasn’t set a table herself my entire life.

“Well, honey, what’s for dinner?” Dallas says with a smile as he brushes past me and heads into the house.

“So, Mr. Osborne, how did you meet Lorelei?”

I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth and try not to let the apprehension I’m feeling show. This is not how I wanted this evening to go. I was supposed to have a nice, quiet evening with my parents and then sit them down after dinner and calmly tell them my dreams for the future have changed.

Now, I’m stuck sitting across the table from Dallas.

“Well, sir, we work—”

My fork clatters onto the plate and I quickly interrupt him. “Actually, Dad, it’s nothing too exciting. We met at the courthouse.”

Dallas looks at me questioningly and I try to tell him with my eyes to please keep quiet and not ruin things for me.

“Lorelei, elbows off the table, please,” my father reprimands.

I do as he asks and squeeze my hands together in my lap.

“So, you’re an attorney then?” my father continues.

I watch as he stares at the tattoos on Dallas’s arms peeking out from the edge of his T-shirt. It’s obvious my father is judging him and it raises my hackles.

“Uh, no. I’m not an attorney. I own my own private investigation firm, and lately I’ve been working as a part-time detective with the South Bend police department,” Dallas informs him.

He pushes his sleeves up higher on his arms and then crosses his arms in front of him. It’s almost like he’s daring my father to ask him about the tattoos.

“Lorelei, your hair is atrocious. Are you going through some sort of phase?” my mother asks, just to switch things up.

I grind my teeth together and pick up my fork. “No, I just thought I’d try something new.”

Five minutes in this home and I already feel my determination fading.

My father digs the knife in a little deeper. “I played golf with Steve Burdick the other day. He said you’ve postponed a meeting with him three times in the last two weeks. That’s not very professional, Lorelei. How do you expect to make partner with behavior like that?”

Steve Burdick is a partner at my firm and I know exactly why he wants to meet with me. I know he’s going to offer me the partner position, and right now, I just don’t know if I’m strong enough to turn it down. I keep hoping the longer I put it off, the more confidence I’ll gain being a private investigator and it will make the decision easy.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just been very busy. I’ll call him first thing Monday morning,” I tell my father.

My eyes meet Dallas’s across the table. He’s uncrossed his arms and now has his fists resting on the table, clenching and unclenching them like he’s mad about something. He stares at me with his brow furrowed.

I pull my gaze away when my father speaks again. “Yes, make sure you do that. It’s uncomfortable for me when I run into colleagues and have to make excuses for you.”

I can feel my face heating up with embarrassment. It’s bad enough that I have to suffer through these types of conversations every time I’m with my parents, but it’s a million times worse now that Dallas is here witnessing my humiliation.

“Mr. Warner, I’m sure you’re already aware of this, but your daughter is amazing at her job. I’ve seen her in action,” Dallas informs him.

My father wipes the corner of his mouth with his napkin and sets it on the table. I watch in fascination as Dallas goes about eating, not even realizing that my father is glaring at him.

“Yes, well, we’ve made sure she’s kept on the right track. As long as she doesn’t make any more foolish mistakes her future will be set.”

Dallas snorts and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry; is there something you’d like to say?” my father asks him.

Any other man would cave before my father, but not Dallas. If anything, he sits up taller and makes sure to smirk at my mother as he places both of his elbows on the table.

“Oh, there are a lot of things I’d like to say, but they probably aren’t appropriate for dinner conversation. Your daughter doesn’t make foolish mistakes. If anything, she’s too perfect. She’s smart and she’s a hard worker. As her parent, that should be something to be proud of.”