Shifting Greer's

By K.D. Bledsoe All Rights Reserved ©

Action / Romance

Chapter 9

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, setting down the hot curling iron. I’d finally perfected the curls I’d wanted. I ran my fingers through my blonde locks and smiled at my reflection. I even did my makeup darker for a change.

Tonight, was a special night.

“Greer let’s go!” Yells a sweet voice from down stairs.

I roll my eyes and step into the hallway. My mother stands at the bottom of the stairs. Her dark blonde hair is curled like mine is, but her makeup is done naturally. She’s wearing a long, black gown that sweeps the floor. She looks beautiful.

My father comes into view now, his fingers still working on tying the bow tie around his neck. He’s wearing a suit with a vest that matches my mother’s dress. His curled hair is slicked back from his green eyes.

Mom steps up in front of dad to help him with his bow tie. She teases him about it and he laughs with her. I study my parents for a moment, hoping I’m as lucky when I get married. They’re perfect together.

Dad finally looks up at the stairs at me. “Oh, honey, you look gorgeous.”

My eyes flick down to my maroon gown. It shows a little cleavage that my father hadn’t exactly approved of, but mom said she didn’t mind. The thin straps crisscross in the back and show off must of my shoulder blades and middle back. The skirt is flows out in layers and drapes across my feet. I almost cried when I tried it on for the first time.

“Ready, sweetie?” Mom asks with her dimpled smile.

I nod and descend the stairs carefully in my high heels. I hold my skirt in one clenched fist to keep from tripping. Once I reach the bottom, dad offers me his arm and I take it with a laugh. Mom pulls open the front door and I notice a town car already waiting for us outside.

A man steps out onto our black top drive way, makes his way around the car, and stops next to the back door. He gives us an easy smile. When I look at him closer, I stop dead in my tracks. There’s a white scar running down the length of his right cheek.

A part of me wants to refuse to get in the car. I don’t know why the man suddenly makes me nervous. My parents don’t seem to notice though. Mom’s the first one to reach the car. The driver opens the door for her and helps her inside. Dad shakes the drivers hand and gives him a tip. Dad slides in next to mom. That leaves me standing there alone, staring at the man. Something flashes across his eyes that makes me queasy. He then smiles at me, offers his hand to help me inside the car, and then slams the door closed.

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