Saving Cinderella

Chapter Eight

“The kind that brings Rowyn’s dad home and makes a prom for her.”

“You’re worried about me adopting a pet and you’re going this over the top. Where’s her dad?”

“Right,” Wes said. “I didn’t tell you. Her dad is Jeff Riley.”

Keaton smiled. “As in…”

Wes didn’t let him finish before saying, “Yes. That one. He’s in Japan and is Rowyn’s sole reason for not wanting to date me because she thinks I’ll leave.”

“We go on tour again in a few months,” Keaton pointed out, “you will leave.”

“Yeah but I’m not going to ditch her like her father does.”

Keaton made his own coffee, and leaned against the counter. Zuni was checking out the small travel kennel so he kept a close eye on them, but he could spare a few minutes to talk to his brother.

“And the prom?”

“Long story. She missed her prom. I want to give her one.” He rubbed his temples. “This is giving me a headache. Tell me about Sophie, she must have been here pretty late last night.”

Keaton smirked. “She was.”

“Make sure she knows you’re a musician, or she might drop you and make you follow a manifesto of all the ways you can’t touch her.”

Memories of the night before saturated his mind. “She lets me touch her.”

Wes perked up, wide awake. “You didn’t?”

“No,” Keaton said trying not to look disgusted, “she’s not that kind of girl.”

Wes held his hands up, palms forward in defense. “Just asking.”

Keaton downed his coffee. “I should go get this all set up.”

“In your room, I hope.”

“Spare room?” Keaton asked hopefully. “The one we never use.”

“You’re gonna give the rabbit his own room?”

“Why not? You’re giving a prom to one girl.”

“Touche,” Wes said, gesturing toward the spare bedroom. “Have at it.”

When Sophie was a little girl and she scowled at her father, he used to warn her not to look so sour because her face might get stuck that way. Was it possible to have ones face stuck in a permanent, mile-wide grin? When she woke up the morning after spending that much time with Keaton, she sure thought so.

She’d come home at nearly half past one in the morning to her parent’s car in the driveway. Apparently the park and ride at the airport was still open when their flight landed. Sophie thought they might stay at the hotel across the street from the airport but they must have been eager to get home.

As she showered, she knew she was probably in line for a round of questioning from her parents regarding her whereabouts the night before.  They weren’t necessarily opposed to late hours but Taylor was the one with the ever evolving social life…not Sophie, so for her to be out so late would no doubt tweak their parental antennae.

Downstairs her mother stood over a frying pan and Sophie could smell bacon. A definite plus side to having her parents home—no more pop tarts for breakfast. She went and hugged her mom, stealing a piece of bacon from the plate beside the frying pan and sat next to her dad.  Contrary to Taylor’s dire warning, he didn’t seem pissed at all, giving her a warm smile that showed the crowsfeet next to his eyes.