by V McFarlane
I’m all for it.
“Daddy, I don’t wanna,” I suddenly notice the little dark-haired girl clutching his legs. It’s the same girl from the park that day I saw him. This must be his daughter.
Huh. She’s old.
I had assumed he was having a baby not that he already had a grown kid.
Guilt for my quick judgement eats away at my stomach when I remember what he said…
I just found I’m going to be a dad.
The mother must have kept her a secret. Shit. That’s harsh.
We’re at the front of the line now and Ava is tugging at my pant leg, “Mom, we gotta go!”
“Two seconds baby,” I tell her.
“Ripley, come on, sweetheart, it’s time for school,” The man says, dragging his eyes from me to look down at his daughter.
“Daddy!” She cries. Tears are now slipping down her cheeks and heart-breaking sobs escape her throat. My heart aches for the girl.
“Ripley, please,” her dad begs. I look at his face, I see the panic drawing in at the edges, his eyes darting around to see how many people are witnessing the breakdown. A few by the looks of it, each one shaking their heads and pouting their lips like they’ve never had their own kid throw a tantrum in public.
It irks me.
I feel for him, I really do.
Crouching, I tap the girl on the arm and smile when she turns her attention to me. Her eyes are the same as her fathers, truly stunning and so bright in comparison to that dark mane of hair that has been tied by a little pink ribbon.
“What are you doing?” I hear him say, his voice tight.
Ignoring him I address Ripley, “Hey, my daughter is new here too,” I reach out for Ava and bring her closer, “This is Ava, maybe you can go in together?”
Ava looks at Ripley, assessing, “I like your ribbon,” she finally says.
Ripley smiles, “Daddy got it for me.”
“Come on,” Ava holds out a hand.
She looks up to her father who nods and kisses her head and then she takes Ava’s hand. I quickly peck Ava before they both disappear into class.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” he says when the classroom door closes and we’re left alone in the school yard, save for a few other parents idly making their way out the school gates. His tone catches me off guard.
“Excuse me?”
“Your help,” He reiterates with a grumble, “I never asked for it.” Even with the hostility, that southern drawl is doing weird things to my insides.
I scoff. “Well then, next time I won’t bother.”
“Good.”
My eyes narrow, “There’s no need to be rude.”
A harsh laugh escapes his lips, “You’re telling me not to be rude?”
Shaking my head, I start towards the gates. I don’t have time for this.
“Next time you’re driving, watch where you’re going, yeah?” He calls out after me.
I spin on my heel. I freaking knew it was him! “Me!? You’re the one who pulled out on me!”
He cocks a brow in challenge, “Is that right?”
“Yes,” I seethe.
Great, I chastise myself, making enemies on the first day of school.
Sighing I turn again, what’s the point?
“See you around.” He calls.
“Hopefully not.”
Or maybe hopefully yes, but from a distance. So, sue me, the man is nice to look at in that rugged, country boy kind of way. Doesn’t mean I want the stink of his bad attitude rubbing up all over me.
Though he can rub some other parts…
Wait…what!?
I mentally chastise myself. God, it hasn’t been that long has it? I do a mental calculation of the last time I had sex. Oh God. Three years. Three damn years.
I’m still grumbling to myself when I reach my car only to find I’m completely blocked in by none other than Mr Rude himself.
He did this on purpose.
Asshole.
Six
Taron
I didn’t block her in on purpose. Of course, I recognised the car, I mean look at it! That thing has more rust spots than is clearly healthy or safe for that matter and the paint is so faded you can hardly tell what colour it used to be. Green maybe?
The interior isn’t much better, because yes, I looked when I climbed out the car to drop Ripley off at school. Faded grey, fabric seats and a dash that was built somewhen in the seventies.
Basically, it’s a shit heap and clearly not road worthy or legal.
She’s tapping her foot impatiently, her arms folded across her chest. She’s in a work uniform by the looks of it, tight black suit pants and a button-down shirt with a logo over the right breast. Her blonde locks are pulled into a high ponytail that swings like a pocket watch when she walks. I’d like to say that’s what I watched swaying back and forth when she stormed angrily away from me but that would be lying.
I was hypnotised by the gentle curve of her hips and the roundness of her ass in those pants.
I didn’t mean to snap at her. Really, I didn’t, what she did for Ripley was appreciated but I guess my pride had other thoughts.
It wasn’t necessarily embarrassment I felt at Ripley’s breakdown, but I feared people would think I was an awful dad. One who couldn’t control his own kid. Most people in this town know who I am, they know my whiskey and my dad. Gossip travels fast.
“Was this really necessary?” She asks, “I mean I don’t really understand why you don’t like me, but come on.”
“What are you talking about?” We’re close now. I can smell her floral scent, it’s subtle, not heavy like some of the women in this town, probably just the shampoo she uses rather than the perfume she sprays.
“Your truck, did you need to park it so close?”
“This was the only spot.”
“Well can you move? I have to get to work.”
“On it,” I grumble, swinging the door open and climbing into the cab.
She shakes her head and climbs into her own car, her eyes meeting mine in the rear-view mirror.
What is it about this woman?
What even is her name?
I back the truck up and she pulls away quickly, a plume of black smoke spluttering out the back.
Shaking my head, I pull out as well, heading back to the distillery. Work has been put on the back burner since Ripley arrived. I didn’t want to get a nanny yet but will have to soon if I want to maintain some resemblance of normalcy for both Ripley’s and my life.
Rhett’s been great. He really is like an uncle to her, taking her out to the park and to get icecream. They’re building a great bond and dad has visited three times since she came home which is more than what he’s done in years.
When I pull up to the distillery, Rhett is waiting by his car, shades covering his blue eyes.
“I’ve screened a few candidates,” he tells me, joining me at my side as we head into the building.
We have several tours lined up today and the bar itself is rammed with tourists. Despite the early hour, there’s whiskey in their glasses.
“And?”
“I mean, the selection isn’t great,” he says, “really.”
I groan. I don’t want some mediocre teenager looking after my daughter. I want someone with experience, who knows what they’re doing when it comes to kids. Surprisingly, the blonde pops into my head.
I shake it off just as quickly, even if she were available, I wouldn’t want Ripley going anywhere near that car of hers and with the location of the ranch she’d need to be able to drive.
She probably wouldn’t even accept an offer.
“If you don’t think they’re any good then look again. I’m not wasting my time with people not fit to look after my daughter.”
Rhett sighs, “Man, we’ve screened every single available nanny in town.”
I grumble, it surely can’t be this hard.
There’s a large stack of paperwork on my desk plus s
ample bottles from some of the barrels we’ve taken out of storage sitting next to my closed Mac.
My mind wanders back to the blonde, I can still see the plump lips and the shine in her eyes. God, her skin is so creamy and soft looking all I want to do is reach out and touch it just to see if it feels as silky as it looks. I can’t remove the image of the sway of her body, the tapered waist as it flares into her hips and long legs.
Shit. She’s intoxicating.
“Taron!” Rhett exclaims.
I startle out of my thoughts, “Sorry what?”
“I was just saying that maybe we should extend the applications to the next town over.”
I grunt and drop down in the leather seat behind the desk, looking down at the paperwork.
“I don’t care how we get it, Rhett, I need someone, and they need to be good.”
Seven
Penny
“Please,” I beg, “It won’t happen again!”
I’ve been fired and I haven’t even started yet.
“Look Miss…”
“Hart,” I fill in.
“Miss Hart, we were very clear in the interview, tardiness isn’t tolerated. We were willing to be flexible with your working days because you’ve got a kid, but you showed up on your first day over twenty minutes late. That doesn’t exactly set a good example, does it.” The owner, an elderly gentlemen with a bald head says sternly.
“I’m sorry! I need this job!”
“I’m sorry too, Miss Hart, please have the uniform dry cleaned and dropped off.”
I sigh, pushing back the threat of tears that’s stinging my nose. This is a complete failure! I’m a failure.
This is his fault! Mr I’m a Rude Asshole.
I have every right to go up to him and give him a piece of my mind. He got me fired.
If he didn’t block me in, I wouldn’t have hit all that traffic and I wouldn’t have been late.
“Please,” I try again, “I’ve got a kid to feed and bills to pay.”
“Not my problem.”
The other members of staff are watching the scene unfold, their eyes soft in understanding. I drag my feet as I walk from the restaurant and through the doors into the morning sun.
The town is busy, people bustle up and down the sidewalks, talking loudly and the fresh smell of roasted coffee beans fills the air. What am I going to do now?
After I climb into the car, I head straight home, my vision watery from the unshed tears.
Having nothing is something but having nothing whilst you have a kid is an entirely different situation. I think of Ava, I think of all the things she doesn’t have that all the other kids do. I’ve always made a point about using any spare cash I have on her but now I have nothing.
A sob escapes my throat before I manage to get the car in park. How am I supposed to feed her? Clothe her.
I bang my palm against the steering wheel, shoulders shaking with the emotion. This was supposed to be a fresh start.
I was supposed to get my new beginning, away from my old town where memories haunt me and people gossip about me to my face and behind my back and yet, here I am, with nothing all over again.
I’ve made no friends in the weeks I’ve been here, in fact, it looks like I’ve made a new enemy.
Life’s not fair, m’dear, my nana’s words flow through me, sometimes you just have to make the best out of the situation the good lord dealt you.
I’m not a religious person but ain’t that the truth. But how do I make the best out of this situation?
Did I make a mistake in choosing this particular town? Winters Creek looked perfect, far away from my old town, in fact it’s a completely different state and I thought Ava and I could make a life for ourselves here. I didn’t expect anything perfect but I sure as hell expected something more than this.
I swat at the tears staining my cheeks and climb from the car, slamming the door shut harder than necessary. The sun blares down relentlessly and sweat prickles on the back of my neck.
When I see Mr I’m a Jerk, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. Granted he couldn’t have known that blocking me in would get me fired but he did do it on purpose to mess with me. Is this punishment for my quick judgement the first day we bumped into each other? Karma or whatever.
I fire up the laptop that is as old as I am and wait for the internet to load. It takes forever so in the meantime I make a coffee and bagel and settle in at the kitchen table.
The table itself was a hand-me-down given to me when Ava was first born. It wasn’t in fantastic condition when I first bought it home but now it’s thoroughly worn. Scratches and scuffs mar the surface but along with them are several brightly coloured scribbles from all the times Ava’s used the top as her own personal sketch book. Beneath my coffee cup is a small drawing, just two stick figures, holding hands. Ava had done it when she was four and I hadn’t been paying enough attention to stop her.
She told me it was me and her, holding hands. The faces are smiling.
I trace my finger over the drawing, a small smile tugging at my lips.
I had to make this work, for the both of us. She deserved a chance at a happy childhood.
The move to Winters Creek had been tough enough. She didn’t understand the need to move but she also didn’t understand why the kids in her old school had started teasing her. I don’t tolerate bullies.
The move wasn’t, not even in the slightest, an easy decision to make. I tried, I really did to sort it all out, but people don’t change. Once they’ve settled on an opinion of you, it will follow you around your entire life.
The sad part is, we did nothing wrong.
I didn’t know. I didn’t know what my ex was getting himself into. We had broken up long before the news came to light, but he was still a part of Ava’s life, even if it were flaky.
Sighing I start a new job search, watching the little blue circle go round and around whilst the results load. When they finally do, I realise nothing new has been posted since I last checked and close down the laptop and chose to call my best friend.
“Well,” Grace drawls with amusement in her tone, “Look who decided to finally call.”
“I’m sorry, Grace,” I sigh, “It’s been a hectic few weeks.”
“I get it, honey,” she says softly, “How’s it been?”
“Horrible,” I admit and go into full detail of what’s happened the last few weeks and then this morning, being fired from a job I hadn’t even started yet.
She whistles slowly, “Damn, that’s tough.”
“You’re telling me. Maybe this was a mistake.”
“No,” she says sternly, “You did the right thing. Plus, if you were still here and I heard that shit they were saying with my own two ears, you’d be bailing me outta jail and we all know that shit’s expensive.”
“How is the gossip there?” I ask, unsure I really wanna know.
“Penny, why do you ask?” Grace sighs, “You know damn well I can’t lie to you!”
“Because I wanna know,” Do I?
The thing is, I grew up in the same town Grace did. The only reason she was spared from the cruelty was because her daddy and brother were officers at the Sheriff’s department and well, let’s just say they are fiercely protective over Grace. I could guarantee that anyone caught spreading gossip would be thrown into the jail, even if they had done nothing illegal. Unfortunately, I was fair game.
“It’s not pretty,” Grace tells me, “Some are saying you knew all along what Ric was up to and were a part of it.”
I cringe. I’d never done anything even remotely illegal in my life.
“How’s Logan?” I ask. Logan is Grace’s three-year-old son.
She puffs out a breath, “They said the terrible twos don’t last but that is a lie. We’re now in the terrible threes. The tantrums! Gah!”
I chuckle, “It’ll pass.”
“Will it?” She screeches, “Because people keep saying that and it don’t get any easier. Ju
st last week I caught him cutting up my cards in my purse. I don’t even know where he got the goddamn scissors!”
I snort my laughter, “Kids can get into and onto anything they want. Trust me.”
I look down at the scribbles again. Ava was a scribbler between the ages of two and four. If she could reach, she would draw on it. I was walking around for months with blue and pink scribbles on my white handbag.
I had hidden most of the pens and the others I’d placed high up, on shelves and in cupboards but she still managed to get hold of them.
“Yes well,” Grace tuts, “I’m losing my goddamn mind.”
“I miss you,” I suddenly say, my throat growing tight. Even through all the gossip, the taunts, the harsh and cruel words that were said to me, Grace never let me down.
“Miss you too,” she replies, her voice a little hoarse, “I’ll come visit soon, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I reply, “I’d like that.”
“I’ve gotta run, honey, chat soon?”
We say our goodbyes with the promise to catch up again at the end of the week and then she hangs up.
Before I head off to pick Ava up from school, I log in to my bank online.
My heart stops when I see the figure in the account.
I’m in so much trouble.
Eight
Taron
I wait in the school yard, hanging around at the edge, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, only it doesn’t work.
Carla, a woman I’ve known since high school saunters over in her tight pink dress and wedged shoes, light auburn hair pulled back in a bun. Her overly pink lips are pulled up in a fake ass smile.
“Taron,” she greets me, “I heard you had a kid, but I didn’t believe it. What’s his name?”
“Her,” I correct, narrowing my eyes, “Her name is Ripley.”
“How adorable,” the way her nose scrunches up tells me she thinks it’s anything but adorable. “Anyway, I was wondering if you were free this weekend, maybe we can catch up.”
