by Amelia Shea
Bailey had been more obliging, offering him coffee to go. He couldn’t resist another opportunity to sit at her table, gaze into her sleepy eyes, and stare at her messy, sex hair. There would be a time, hopefully soon, waking up with her would be a daily occurrence. Until then, he’d seize every chance he got. Bailey had a way of throwing off the always organized and responsible Saint. It wasn’t her fault. All the blame lay on his shoulders for not leaving earlier. He spent the morning with her and headed home at about eleven. With the six hours of work he had piled up needing to be done before Cia arrived, resting was not an option.
He yawned and stared out the window. Leaves were falling early this year, which meant a cold winter. Hopefully, the snow wouldn’t be so bad. He’d done some research. Their spot of Ghosttown was hit or miss. Some years they got off easy and were spared a few inches. Other times the residents were homebound for a day or two.
He grabbed a mug from the cabinet and prepared his coffee. A light, shimmering glow reflected from his kitchen window as Tara’s minivan pulled into the driveway. Saint made his way to the front door, walking out to the porch and taking a seat on his steps. He smiled, watching through the van windows, the chaos erupting. If he had to guess, the vehicle was stocked with games, random toys, extra pairs of kid’s clothes, and enough stale snacks between the seats on the floor to feed half of Ghosttown. His lips curled when he saw Tara crane her neck on the headrest.
The back door opened and out popped his girl. Her smile was huge, as it always was when she greeted him. Being closer and staying in one location would afford him more time with her. He’d always been strict with her weekends, never missing their time, but there were incidences where it made his work a million times harder.
She waved. It was all worth it.
“Hey, Daddy.” Cia reached into the backseat, yanking the wedged bag with all her weight, and stumbled backward when it released. Saint snickered at the juice box, empty chips bag, and sock that flew to the ground near the door. Cia bent down, tossing the sock through the door, and grabbing the garbage in her hand. She slammed the door sending Tara into a mini-rant he couldn’t hear. She shook her head, waved her hands, and her lips moved. Saint laughed.
He’d known Tara since he was eighteen, started dating her at twenty, and stayed tight off and on for five years. During an on time, she’d gotten pregnant. He’d never forget the dread he felt when she told him. He was too young, too immature, and independent. While he loved Tara, they’d both been drifting apart in their last year together. Being comfortable and familiar is what had them together for so long. They both knew it.
On the day he found out he was going to be a dad, he truly believed his life was over. Nine months later, he realized it was just beginning. Never would he have pegged himself for fatherhood, but he loved it, loved his little girl. He and Tara only lasted another year after Cia was born. It was done strictly out of obligation on both their parts. He was sure most people doubted they could still give Cia a normal and functional family life being separated. They proved everyone wrong. They made it work. It wasn’t always easy, but they made an effort. A few years later, she married Denny. A good guy. Saint even attended their wedding and spent most holidays with them. Tara and Denny’s boys referred to him as Uncle Saint. It may not have been conventional, but they did what they set out to do for Cia nine years ago. They gave her a family.
Cia dragged her bag along the grass, doing a speed walk, and spread her arms wide, taking him in for a hug. At nine, he knew his days were numbered with her affection. Eventually, the hugs and kisses would lessen, and instead of being cool, Saint would no doubt become embarrassing. The curse of a dad.
“Missed you.” He hugged her close. The arrangement gave Saint two weekends a month. Tara had been lenient with it, though. If Saint planned something which didn’t fall on his weekend, he was free to take her and vice versa.
She pulled away to stand in front of him. She was grinning. She has a beautiful smile, just like yours. With Bailey’s words playing over in his head, he smiled back at his girl.
“We won the championships.”
“Knew you would.”
She twisted her lips in a cute pout. Much to Tara’s dismay, Cia favored his side with her dark hair, high cheekbones, and violet eyes.
“How’d ya know?”
He reached out, tapping her nose, causing a sweet giggle. “’Cause I’ve seen ya dance.”
She sat next to him, curling into his side, and he wrapped his arm over her shoulder. “It was really cool, we all got medals and flowers and stuff.”
He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Good job, baby.”
Tara wandered up the walkway, her hair in a bun on her head. She was definitely sleep deprived. Even so, Tara was just as pretty as she was when he pulled up on his bike in front of her and a group of her friends. She stood out with her white-blonde hair and stunning green eyes. She had aged, like him, but kept her spark and her beauty. She remained the same sassy mouthed, inappropriate storytelling, big-hearted woman he fell in love with all those years ago.
“Hey, Saint.”
He nodded. “T.”
Cia angled up and pushed off the stairs, giving her mom a kiss and hug before dragging her things inside. “Gonna put my stuff away, then I’ll tell ya about the comp. Mom took video.” She disappeared inside, and he glanced back to Tara, who was leaning on the handrail.
“You look like shit.” He smirked.
She lifted her hand and gave him the middle finger. “I feel like shit.” She slumped back, putting her weight against the railing. “Seven hours.” She sighed and emitted a soft agonizing groan. “Seven fucking hours, Saint.”
He chuckled. “Including the car ride?” He knew it didn’t.
She groaned, shaking her head. “Two fucking hours. Would have been shorter if I didn’t have to stop every fifteen minutes to pee.” She grunted and shook her head. “Pregnancy blows.”
Tara was a few months along, adding another baby to her mix. She already had two boys with Denny. He knew his girl was hoping this time around she was getting her much-wanted baby sister.
“I would have taken her, T.” He had offered initially. Tara insisted she wanted to do it. Besides, he wouldn’t have fit in too well with the cheering squad of moms with posters. He’d attended all the local competitions he could for his daughter, usually opting to stand in the back.
“I know.” She shrugged. “I bitch about it, but I do love watching our girl, Saint. Those girls kicked ass today.” She snickered. “Besides, this is my thing with C. Hell, you got all the other stuff, I need something that’s mine.”
Cia was a sweet mix of girly and tomboy wrapped into a perfect well-rounded package. She may have loved the competitions, but she was as easily pleased climbing trees and going camping or on hikes.
“So?” Tara eyed him. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
He’d mentioned he needed to discuss something with her in a text. This was a long time coming. Last night had solidified what he had hoped for. He was making Bailey his, which meant, eventually, she would become all of theirs. He didn’t doubt Tara would be happy for him, but he knew how much she enjoyed inserting herself into his life. She’d always been that way. It wasn’t a bad thing, but for as wonderful as she could be, sometimes Tara could be overwhelming, especially for the quiet Bailey.
“Seeing someone and want her to bring her around C. Just wanted to give you the heads up.” It was a mutual respect in telling her. He wasn’t asking permission. Tara knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t bring anyone around his girl he didn’t deem worthy. That being the main reason he hadn’t had a woman around since Cia was too small to remember.
He’d dated, of course, but nothing serious which would warrant meeting his daughter. Until now.
Saint sighed at her reaction. Her eyes widened, and her lips curled. She leaned forward. “You got a girlfriend?”
One date did not constitute a relat
ionship in most people’s eyes. After pining over her for a year and finally being with her last night, the word “girlfriend” didn’t seem nearly as serious as the feelings he had for Bailey. She’s mine.
“Yeah, her name is Bailey.”
“Bailey?” she shrieked. “When do I get to meet her?” Saint wasn’t surprised at her reaction. Tara had made it clear she wanted him to find someone. She was constantly on him about allowing her to set him up with someone. He declined every time. He didn’t need anyone to find him a woman. He had no problem in that department. Women seemed to be attracted and intrigued by him. The issue rested solely on his shoulders. He didn’t know what he wanted until a tiny, beautiful redhead stumbled through an old barn town hall. Then he knew.
“Gonna do a quick intro tomorrow. Then I was thinking of the two of them spending time together next weekend.” He had previously asked to take her since his weekend was cut short from her competition. As usual, Tara obliged.
“Yeah? So, what’s she like?”
“Twenty-five.” He waited for a reaction. He usually dated women closer to his age, not ten years his junior.
Tara smirked and winked. “Good for you.”
He chuckled. “She’s sweet, good heart, you’ll like her. Just don’t scare her away.”
Tara burst out laughing and reached forward, slapping his leg before settling against the railing. There weren’t many people he joked with except those who knew him best. Tara was one of the few.
“Oh man, I’m happy for you, Saint. You’ve been alone too long.” She paused. “Cia is gonna freak when she hears ya got a girlfriend.” Tara smiled and tilted her head. “She worries about you being alone.” Tara shrugged. “So do I.”
“Maybe I like being alone.” He actually didn’t mind it.
“Or maybe ya just hadn’t met the right woman until now.”
“Christ, ya got me married off already, you haven’t even met her yet.” He smirked. “You could end up not liking her?” It didn’t matter whether she liked Bailey or not, she was his woman, and she was there to stay.
“Pfft…” She dismissively waved her hand. “You have great taste in women. Present company included.” She winked. “And the fact that you’ve never brought a woman around Cia…no, this one’s gotta be special.”
Saint swallowed the knot in his throat. “She is.”
Tara beamed. “I can’t wait to meet her.” She leaned forward, kissing him on the cheek. She ambled down the stairs. “She needs to be at school by eight-fifteen, and don’t let her pack her own lunch.” She turned, narrowing her gaze. “Chips, fruit snacks, and a juice box does not constitute a lunch.”
He nodded and pushed up from the steps, grabbing his coffee. He made his way inside. He’d planned a movie night with Cia then taking her to the diner in town for breakfast. She had hounded him to go see the new clubhouse, which he made arrangements with Kase earlier. If he was bringing Cia, he gave a heads up.
He stood at the bottom of the steps and glanced up. “Cia,” he called. He heard her padded feet before she appeared at the top of the landing.
“Gonna start dinner, and then we watch a movie.”
She smirked. “My choice?”
Oh hell. He sighed and raised his brows. She may be half tomboy. However, her movie selections usually strayed to the girly side.
“Yeah, you choose.”
She grinned and turned. Cia stopped when he called her again. She turned back, staring down at him.
“Before we go see Uncle Kase tomorrow, we’re gonna swing by a friend’s house.” He paused. “Want you to meet her?”
Her brows knitted together, and her lips curled. “A girl?”
“Yeah, her name is Bailey.”
Cia’s mouth fell open. “Is she your girlfriend?”
Saint sighed. Again, with the girlfriend. He nodded. “You want to meet her?”
Cia nearly bounced on her toes, and Saint took a step up, fearing her excitement might send her down the stairs. “Yeah.” Her eyes widened. “Invite her over now. She can do movie night with us.”
“She’s got plans. Tomorrow we’ll stop by.” He stepped back and pointed at her. “Need you to clean your room before dinner.” Her shoulders sagged, and she dramatically dragged her feet to her room.
Saint continued with the night, making dinner and settling in for a movie marathon. Luckily, Cia had passed out with her head on his lap a quarter way through the second movie. He turned the tv off and lifted her in his arms, taking her upstairs to bed. The kid was a rock. Once she was down, there was no waking her.
He made his way downstairs to lock up and shut off the lights when he noticed the blinking of his phone. He grabbed it and smiled.
Bailey: Hi Saint
He typed on his phone and hit send.
Saint: Hey, sweetheart.
Bailey: Am I interrupting anything?
He walked to the kitchen, texting with one hand.
Saint: Just put Cia to bed. Thinking of you.
Bailey: ——blushing—— Thinking of you too.
Saint furrowed his brows and smiled. Her message was followed by three emojis. So damn cute. In the age of technology, Saint was fully capable, yet he refused to use pictures as a way to communicate.
Bailey: I’m so sorry to do this on short notice, but something came up tomorrow, and I won’t be around. Next time you have her, let me know.
Fuck! He read through the lie. He should have seen this coming. She was extremely hesitant. If he thought she didn’t have an interest in meeting his daughter, he’d have a true dilemma on his hands. It wasn’t the case, he suspected. Bailey was scared. Calling her out would only intensify her stress and possibly push her away. He’d deal with it when he saw her, face to face.
Saint: All right.
Bailey: Will I still see you on Monday?
He stared down at the message. A simple sentence, yet he could read past it.
Saint: I’ll pick you up after I drop Cia off
Bailey: I can’t wait!
Bailey: And again, I’m sorry about tomorrow.
Saint drew in a breath. So am I. He could understand her nerves. Cia would have a harder time especially since he’d already mentioned it to her. From her excitement, this would be a letdown, something Saint tried not to do with his daughter ever.
Fuck.
****
Bailey pressed her lips together and clasped her hands in front of her. A simple nod to appease him was seemingly backfiring as Arnett Collins’ face burned two shades of red.
“Well,” he snapped. “What are you going to do about it, Mayor?” His snarky overtone had Bailey drawing in a breath.
Arnett, aka the town crier, had put her phone on blast since six in the morning, demanding she check out the damages caused by the construction happening on Main Street. She assured him she would see to it. Her word didn’t prove enough for him. He called every fifteen minutes until she arrived at half-past nine.
The so-called damages were a result of the work being done at Macy and Cheyenne’s shop. There was a neat square of dirt. During a previous town meeting, their request to replace the existing tree was granted. Apparently, it wasn’t done quickly enough for Mr. Collins’ liking.
She had rushed around getting ready and made the call she dreaded. She had been looking forward to seeing Saint since he walked out of her house on Saturday morning. She waited until close to nine, not wanting to disrupt his time with his daughter when he dropped her off. In doing so, she was canceling last minute.
When she spoke to him and explained the situation, he understood without questioning her. The call was cut short when she got in her car. She tried to block the disappointment of him not trying to reschedule their date. I should have said something. She could have suggested meeting later on in the day, but she became flustered with her pending meeting. Arnett had held a vendetta and grudge ever since he lost the mayoral election to her. It came as a shock since she hadn’t even run in the first place
. Apparently, many of the townspeople had gotten together and decided she would be the best candidate. No one was more surprised than her when they announced Bailey as the new Mayor of Ghosttown.
“Do you see this?” he shouted, and Bailey jerked from the sharp edge of his tone. She should have been accustomed to him after all these years, but he still managed to get reaction from her.
“Yes, I see.” She gulped. “Macy and Cheyenne assured the board they would be planting a new tree and shrubs once construction was completed.” She glanced down at the dirt-filled square where the dying tree had since been removed. It was already an improvement, though she didn’t voice her opinion to him. She smiled, which only seemed to ignite his fury. “They have shown us the plans, along with the exact tree they intend to plant. Mr. Collins, they are paying out of pocket, which technically isn’t their responsibility, so we should be grateful and uh,” she paused, “exercise patience.”
Oh shit. Wrong answer. His lips twisted, and his eyes darkened into a menacing glare.
“You are allowing our town to be taken over,” he shouted again. He inched closer, and Bailey didn’t back away. He was all bark. “You are a disgrace as our leading official.”
She tightened her lips. It could have been worse. Being called a disgrace was baby talk compared to some of the things he’d said to her in the past. She spread out her hands and attempted to reason with him again. She never got the chance.
“Back. Up.” The low command sent chills down her spine.
She slowly craned her neck to find Saint standing a few feet away from them at the curb. She hadn’t even heard his approach, yet there he was. His glare was trained over her head at Arnett. It was definitely bad timing, but her first thought was, God, he is sexy.
Saint stalked forward, and Arnett immediately retreated a few feet from her. Her gaze remained on Saint while his scowl hardened.
“I suggest you think long and hard about the next words to come out of your mouth.” His tone was even, but Bailey could feel the menacing implication behind his demand.
His jaw squared, and she knew he was holding onto to his anger. She didn’t know Saint well enough to know what would happen if Arnett became combative. If she had to guess, it wouldn’t end well for Arnett.
