I applied sunblock, as my Scottish heritage was not one of sun-worshipper. I looked down at my fifty-three-year-old “Dad Bod”... unfortunately, mo...e office time and less mountain biking had transformed me into much more “Dad” than I cared for. Glancing over at Heather, I felt like letting myself go a bit had contributed to the lack of sexual chemistry we suffered from now. I understood that women are more into what their heart says, rather than their eyes, but there are no ugly actors in. "Okay, Dad. See ya when you get home." And withthat, she reached out and hugged her father, and I turned away. I'dnever had that kind of a relationship with my father. Granted, the twoyears I'd known my father before he died, I was a boy, and two yearsold. I don't even remember him, anymore, or my mother. The only parentI'd ever had was Aunt Holly, and I'd never even had that kind of arelationship with her.***The ride to nineteen-sixty Westmoreland was pretty uneventful. Colinand I sat in the. More

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