Cadence Wilkerson was in Paris, passing the time at a street cafe, when the rosemary essence of her home seemed to surround her in loving arms. She smiled unconsciously, inhaled deeply; then annoyance and irritation flooded her. That damned old woman! Always meddling in their lives and never worrying about the consequences. She angrily stuffed her laptop into her bag and stood up, thinking about defying the summons. Maybe she'd call Granny and give her a piece of her mind while she was at it! Cadence stormed off.
Or rather, she would have stormed off, if she hadn't slammed into a hard chest. Her storm ended suddenly, with Cadence falling face first. She had a moment to see the cracks in the sidewalk she was about to meet, then she was swept up, her fall arrested by a pair of strong arms. Cadence found herself staring into a pair of the bluest eyes she'd ever seen in her life. She was transfixed, unable to decide whether the blue was a tropical sea or an Atlantic storm. To swim or drown in those depths? Cadence blushed, sure that her carnal thoughts had been transparent.
"Are you okay?"
"Uh...yes, thanks." Cadence struggled a bit, wanting to have her feet on the ground for a bit of clarity. She still felt dizzy, as though she were still drowning in his eyes, and that made her awkward and uncomfortable. She quickly studied his face-- the graying hair, the hard lines at the center of his forehead. Her eyes froze on the white collar, and she thought that she would do a million prayers of penance for the thoughts that had just been circling through her head.
"Sorry about that...Father?"
Now it was Garrett's turn to blush. For a moment, he had forgotten everything...except her. Somehow, holding her in his arms felt more right than anything else.
Even revenge.
The prompt is the third definition of the word FATHER.
