The Bride's Father

By Amy Eastlake

Brad Mittermann spent his childhood bouncing from foster home to foster home. Now that he is a single father, his primary goal in life is to save his daughter from the pain he went through. When Chrissie announces that she's going to marry her boyfriend to get away from Brad's control, Brad grows desparate. He's got to save her from making a terrible mistake.

Mitzi Jordan left men behind her when her son Kyle's father abandoned the two of them. While Brad Mitterman may generate all sorts of sensual thoughts, Mitzi knows better than to fall in love. All Brad wants is to keep their children apart. He's willing to do anything, even propose marriage, to prevent it. Mitzi has already been through a marriage without love. Yet can she keep from falling in love with Brad? Could she even consider marrying a man who can't see life without attempting to control it?

In THE BRIDE'S FATHER, Amy Eastlake has written a sensual and moving story of a man and a woman who fill key needs in one another's lives, yet who represent everything the others stand against. Mitzi has fought her entire life for independence from a controlling family. Can she simply let Brad take over? Brad fights the memories of his youth--and sees Mitzi encouraging the same lack of control. Still, they share a love for their children, a willingness to sacrifice for what they believe in, and a nobility of purpose. The reader will cheer for their success.

Eastlake's dry sense of humor, quick-paced dialogue, and realistic relationships between parents and teen-aged children make reading THE BRIDE'S FATHER a pleasure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rob Preece
• Release date: Aug 3, 2012
• ISBN: 9781602151857

Amy Eastlake

Amy Eastlake is a martial artist and full-time author living near downtown Dallas, Texas. Most of her novels are set in this diverse and multi-ethnic neighborhood. She writes mystery and romantic suspense. when she's not sparring or writing, Amy is generally planning the perfect crime--so she can write about it, of course.

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THE BRIDE'S FATHER

By Amy Eastlake

Published by BooksForABuck.com

At Smashwords

Copyright Amy Eastlake 2001-2012

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Cover photography by Cathy Yount, under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0.

THE BRIDE'S FATHER by Amy Eastlake

Chapter 1

Something was wrong.

Brad Mittermann woke in a cold sweat and sprang out of bed. A glance at the bedside clock told him it was far too early for his internal alarm clock to have gone off. A thin wisp of a breeze slicked the hairs on his chest. Something was seriously wrong.

He pulled on a pair of jeans and stomped out of his bedroom. His stomach knotted at the sight of the wide-open front door to his ranch house. Even the strong west-Texas winds couldn't have blown it open--not after he'd bolted it shut.

He turned and ran down the hall. He could ask Chrissie's forgiveness later for barging into her room. His immediate priority was making sure his teenage daughter was all right.

Brad wasn't sure where Chrissie had picked up the habit of burrowing under her covers like a hibernating bear. Still, the lump under the cover would have reassured him if he hadn't seen the open front door. As it was, he looked more closely.

Whoever, or whatever, was under the bedcovers wasn't breathing.

He pulled back the blankets in a single jerk, then stared at the mound of pillows strategically arranged to look like a sleeping sixteen year old.

What the-- his mind ran over the possible explanations. Kidnapping, extortion, sleepwalking. With no sign of a struggle, only one explanation made sense. Chrissie had deliberately disobeyed his rules and snuck out in the middle of the night.

He took two seconds to put on a T-shirt and boots and headed for his Cadillac.

Mineral Wells, Texas, wasn't a big city, but it did have a twenty-four-hour police department. He felt no guilt at all in calling the 9-1-1 dispatcher, waking her from what sounded like a sleep far more comfortable than the one he'd been having, and instructing her to have the police scramble to find his missing daughter.

That task handled, he consulted OnStar for directions to Chrissie's boyfriend's house then headed for the middle class section of town where Kyle lived. Brad cursed himself as an idiot for keeping Kyle on as part-time ranch help after his daughter started to show interest. He'd always been too soft hearted, he decided. He'd seen how much Kyle loved horses, and just gotten irrational. Brad still remembered his pain when the foster parents with a California horse ranch had sent him back to the foster system. So he'd let Kyle keep his job. He hoped it wasn't too late to remedy the situation.

He left the engine running, strode up the flower-lined pathway, and hammered on the door to Kyle's house.

****

Thunder crashed down on Mitzi Jordan's pleasant dream and she gasped to a drowsy wakefulness. Moments later, a second volley of thunder transformed itself into some idiot pounding on her door.

Kyle hadn't locked himself out for years, but nobody else was likely to be knocking at the ridiculous hour of two-thirty in the morning. Mitzi got up, pulled a silk bathrobe over her nightshirt and opened the door.

It took her a good three seconds to realize that whoever was standing there was certainly male, but even more definitely not her son.

It's a little early for social calls, she said, quickly trying to close her door.

This isn't a social call. The stranger shoved a foot between the door and door jam, refusing to let her shut him out.

The intruder had the makings of a handsome man, with a body her subconscious would definitely remember well enough to populate her next set of dreams. Amber eyes glowered from his sun darkened face and his shoulders were so broad they filled her doorway. Concern warred with anger for control of his face.

If that dog is out again, it belongs to my neighbors, she said. I know it tears things up and makes a racket, but I'm the wrong one to talk to about it.

There is a dog out all right. But you're wrong about one thing. He's definitely yours. I expect you to start taking some responsibility.

I beg your pardon.

I want Chrissie.

For an irrational second, she thought he was a jealous rival to her son. Then she noticed the resemblance. He must be the evil old ogre of a father Chrissie had told her about. In person he didn't look particularly old, and she wasn't sure about the evil part. On the other hand, he certainly looked dangerous.

Still, at least he wasn't a thief or mugger. She relaxed a fraction, though she didn't let him in. You must be Mr. Mittermann. As far as I know, Chrissie doesn't have a dog.

Call me Brad. And I'm referring to your Kyle.

Mitzi considered herself a peaceful person. She didn't make waves, tried to enjoy life, and had raised her son with the live-and-let-live philosophy she'd adopted as her personal way of surviving. So she was surprised at the red surge of protective anger that came over her when Brad verbally attacked her son.

Without conscious thought, she pulled back the door and slammed it toward Brad's foot. Get lost, Mittermann.

Unfortunately for her, the man had reacted as quickly as she acted, catching the door with his arms and forcing it to a stop. It was as if she’d driven it into a concrete wall.

It's practically three in the morning, he said. And your son has absconded with my daughter. I want her back.

Well, I don't have her.

His eyes widened as he stared at her, as if he were somehow absorbing her essence and reading her soul. He nodded. All right. So, where is she?

How would I know?

You're Kyle's mother, aren't you? I would assume that a parent would know where her child is at this hour.

At that moment, his attitude called to mind her own parents, and her heart went out to poor Chrissie. Not that she wouldn't have Kyle's hide if he really was out at this hour.

She knew she was making a mistake the moment she opened her mouth. Still, she couldn't resist. I don't know, Mr. Mittermann. Maybe I am a bad parent. Since you're so perfect, why don't you tell me where your daughter is?

His face went white for a moment. I intend to find that out. He turned on his heel.

Alarmed, Mitzi quickly sorted through her options. If Mittermann found Kyle in this mood, he could kill the kid. Kyle had recently earned his brown belt in Karate, but she didn't think he'd have a chance against Brad in a fair fight. And the way Brad looked, a fair fight was the last thing on his mind.

Give me a minute, she called. I'll come with you.

Mittermann stopped and turned back toward her. Why?

Because I don't want you to hurt my child, she answered truthfully.

For the first time, his scowl lightened. He didn't smile but for a moment concern seemed to be winning its battle with pure anger. Maybe Kyle's father should go with me, then.

Good idea. Last I heard he was in Baltimore. When you find him, ask him about eighteen years of child support payments. They would help pay for Kyle's college.

Brad frowned, then nodded. You've got two minutes to get ready. He pushed himself into her house without being invited and crossed his arms.

Mitzi forced herself not to run into her bedroom. She threw the robe and nightshirt at her bed, then pulled on a pair of leggings, a T-shirt and some sneakers. It took a bit more than two minutes, but not much.

Brad was pacing her living room when she rejoined him. That was pretty fast. For a woman.

Thank you. And you're pretty rude, even for a man.

Her shot didn't seem to hit anything strategic. He nodded curtly. Let's go.

Mitzi sank into the soft leather upholstery of his Cadillac and watched Brad peel out of the cul-de-sac where she and Kyle lived. It figured a man like him would have a car like this--big, powerful, and rich. So where did you plan to search first?

Brad shot her a look. There's got to be a lover's lane somewhere in this town. The kids are too young to check into a motel.

Mitzi hadn't been out on lover's lane since she'd been younger than Chrissie and dating Kyle's dad. Still, Mineral Wells hadn't changed that much over the years. Turn left here, she told him.

He followed her directions, driving with a complete sense of confidence and control. She couldn't help noticing the well-defined muscles in his forearms. She understood Mittermann had been some sort of computer jock before moving to Mineral Wells and taking over an old horse ranch. While his accent might be California, with his deep tan and his muscular build, he looked the classic cowboy.

Her little old Volkswagen stood out from the half dozen cars parked along the mile-long stretch of road. She was both relieved and apprehensive to see it here. That's my car.

She watched Brad closely. She didn't know what she could do, but she had no intention of allowing him to hurt her son. She'd lay into Kyle about this later, but she was his mother. Nobody but her messed with her kid.

Brad angled his Cadillac in front of the Volkswagen and picked up his cellular phone, pushing a couple of buttons. It's Mittermann. I found them out on lover's lane, he snarled. So where the hell are you? I'd think your patrolman would know where to look better than me.

Are you calling the police on your own daughter? Mitzi thought she'd seen everything, but she couldn't imagine that.

He put the phone on the seat. Of course not. Chrissie is an impressionable kid.

But—

I called the cops on Kyle.

He opened his door and stepped out while Mitzi tried to pick up her jaw from where she'd dropped it.

She wrestled with the car door, which had somehow locked itself, then ran after Brad.

Brad threw open the Volkswagen's passenger side door.

Just for a moment, Mitzi saw something totally unexpected cross Brad's face. Rather than the wrathful father she'd expected, he looked relieved that his daughter was alive. For just an instant he looked, well, human. She could almost forgive a man who had feelings like that. Almost. She toughened her heart. The man had called the police on her son.

Young lady. Brad's voice was icy cold. Go sit in the car while Kyle and I have a little chat. Brad switched off his concern so quickly, Mitzi doubted Chrissie would have seen it.

I want to stay.

Brad shook his head. I'm not going to hurt him. Even if I wanted to, his mother wouldn't let me.

Chrissie looked up. She was disheveled, but fully dressed. Oh. Mrs. Jordan. I didn't know you were here.

When kids sneak out in the middle of the night, their parents can get worried, Mitzi admitted. She wasn't taking Brad's side against own son. But Brad's look of concern forced her to be fair. If she hadn't been so mad at Brad, she might be just as angry at her son.

It was my idea. Kyle had stepped from the car. He pulled himself to his full height and strode toward Brad. At six feet tall and with the muscles he'd developed working on Brad's ranch, he managed to impress most people. Brad didn't look impressed. Mitzi recognized Kyle's noble look. He was always ready to take the blame for everything.

I figured as much, Brad said.

Dad, that's not--

Don't worry, Chrissie, Brad interrupted. I'll give you a chance to tell your side of the story. After all, we're going to have lots of time to spend together, just the two of us.

A squeal of brakes and a white searchlight shining on the group indicated that the police had arrived. A second later, a policeman puffed up to Brad and Mitzi, his shirt half tucked and white powdered sugar staining his trousers.

Is there a problem here? the officer asked.

This young man has admitted to abducting my daughter from my home. I want him charged with breaking and entering.

The cop looked apprehensively at the car and the two teenagers, trying to size up the situation. Maybe there's been a misunderstanding, he suggested.

There was a misunderstanding, all right, Brad shot back. He misunderstood who he was dealing with. I'll have my lawyers call the department tomorrow morning and help draw up charges.

Mitzi was appalled all over again. First Brad had offended her. Now he was working on ticking off the cops. It wasn't a strategy Mitzi would have selected. On the other hand, Mitzi wasn’t rich. Maybe Brad’s money let him get away with that kind of behavior.

If there are going to be any charges, rest assured that the DA's office can handle it, the cop blustered.

Mitzi knew better than to let this macho-fest continue. Somebody could get hurt. While she didn't have any use for Brad, other than as fantasy bait, she didn't want trouble between him and the police. Come on, Kyle, she announced. Let's go to the police station. She climbed into the back of the patrol car and gestured for Kyle to join her.

"I fully intend to take you back home, Mrs. Jordan," Brad announced.

The only reason I'd consider it would be to give Chrissie a human companion, Mitzi answered. It'll be a cold day in hell before I go anywhere near you again, Mr. Mittermann.

We'll send someone out for your Volkswagen, the cop indicated.

Kyle looked at Mitzi, then at Chrissie. Obviously he was torn by conflicting duties.

He isn't going to hurt her, Mitzi assured him. Come on, son. It's late.

****

Do you have any idea how I felt when I woke up and thought you'd been abducted? Brad managed to keep his voice under control. Barely. Squeezing down on the steering wheel helped—a little.

Do you have any idea how I feel having my father call the police on my boyfriend? Chrissie didn't back off at all. What had happened to the sweet, young lady he thought he was raising?

Your ex-boyfriend, Brad filled in. As of now.

You're not being fair.

"I'm not being fair?" Brad wasn't a perfect father. How could he be? He hadn't been given the best role models growing up. Still, since his wife, Angela, had died, he'd done his best. Obviously his best wasn't good enough.

I remember being a teenager, sweetheart, he explained. I understand how it feels when your hormones surge. They can take complete control over your brain. But it isn't forever. There are lots of boys in the world. Trust me, not all of them will come up with wild ideas like sneaking out in the middle of the night.

It was my idea.

Brad swerved his car half-way across the road and stared at her. I don't believe you. Why?

Chrissie shrugged her shoulders. Like it's hard to understand. You only let me go out with Kyle once a week, and then for a lousy three hours. We can't do anything.

He fought to stay calm. Not being able to do anything was the whole idea. She was a sixteen year-old child, for goodness sake. We agreed on our rules. Your sneaking out in the middle of the night hardly makes me want to change them.

Oh, yeah. Like you'd change them if I did anything else. Come on, Dad. Get real. I agreed to your rules when I was thirteen and Mother had just died. Since then, I’ve grown from a child to a young adult and your rules haven’t changed a bit no matter how good I've been. You think, maybe you’ll loosen up when I turn fifty or something? If I'd known I'd be stuck with them for the rest of my life I--oh, never mind. She burst into tears.

Brad had never had any problems dealing with foreign languages, different cultures or even dumb animals. But he had no idea how to talk to his own daughter. Hell, he'd communicated better with Mitzi Jordan. And she hated his guts.

I'll tell you what, he offered. Let's agree to a three-week cooling-off period. Then we'll rethink the whole thing. Including the rules.

Very funny, Dad. You've probably put Kyle on ice for the next six months. He won't even be able to graduate.

He remembered Mitzi's face when he'd told the cop to arrest Kyle.