Love to Hate You: a Hope Valley novel

by Prince, Jessica

It wasn’t a request so much as an order, but even if she’d asked, my answer would have been yes. Because I too loved those Winchester boys.

  * * *

  I moved down the front walk the moment I saw the Mercedes, meeting the car at the curb just as it came to a stop. Ignoring the woman up front, I kept my eyes on the back seat, smiling big and waving the moment Ivy came into view.

  As soon as Alex put the car into park, she undid her seatbelt and smooshed her face against the window. “Mommy!”

  I moved to her door and pulled it open, scooping her up and resting her weight on my hip. The moment her tiny arms closed around my neck I felt that tightness that had taken up residence in my chest the past couple of days start to loosen.

  “Hey there, love bug!” I gave her a big squeeze, burying my nose in her mess of hair and breathing in her scent before pulling back to get a look at her face. “Did you have fun?”

  “Uh huh! We watched movies and made a fort and ate ice cream and went shopping!”

  I looked to Alex and arched a questioning brow.

  “We got her some clothes and stuff to keep at our place so you don’t have to pack her a bag every other weekend. Make things a bit easier, you know?”

  “Well, thanks,” I mumbled as I bent to put Ivy on the ground so I could take the unicorn backpack he was holding out to me. “Ivy, give your dad a hug goodbye,” I ordered, keeping my tone gentle, even though all I wanted to do was grab her hand and drag her away from Alex and Krista and that part of her life.

  Alex picked her back up, giving her a squeeze much like the one I’d just given her. “Love you, little monkey. See you soon, yeah?”

  “Love you too, Daddy.”

  He put her down once she gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek, and looked to me. “Well . . . I guess I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”

  “Yeah. Drive safely.”

  With that, I took Ivy’s little hand and began leading her up the front walk toward the house, not bothering to turn and look back.

  Chapter Eleven

  Micah

  My phone sounded with an incoming text just as I pulled into the garage and shut my truck off. Grabbing it from the cupholder, I swiped my thumb across the screen, bringing it to life. My teeth clenched and a tick formed in my eyelid as I read and reread the message Charlie had just sent.

  C: Can’t talk but am safe. Will call when I can. Call off your bloodhound.

  I’d been trying to reach her since Monday, worried my little showdown with Greg Cormack at The Tap Room had set him off in some way. He called off sick Monday and Tuesday, which set me on edge, and when he got to the station this morning, it was obvious he was in a foul mood.

  My anxiety had spiked to an all-time high when I hadn’t been able to get ahold of Charlie for the past two days. I’d called her burner, using our code, letting it ring once before hanging up, but when she didn’t call back, I’d thrown protocol to the wind, and Leo and I both had started blowing up her phone. When we hit the twelve-hour mark, I’d officially lost my mind and called Linc, telling him to put Dalton on it.

  It hadn’t taken him long to track her down, and once we got word she was still breathing, his orders were to track her every goddamn move.

  I started typing at a rapid clip.

  M: Not fucking happening. This is your fault for ghosting me for two goddamn days. You either let him tail you, or he’s been instructed to pull your ass out. End of story.

  The bubbles popped up, telling me she was typing something. It blinked on the screen for several seconds before her message came through, calling me, Leo, and Dalton every name in the book, spelling out her displeasure at the new turn in the operation with perfect clarity. But I noticed she hadn’t said anything more about calling Dalton off, so I took that as a sign she was getting with the program and decided not to message her back. We both needed a chance to cool down.

  If we didn’t wrap up this case soon, I was going to die of a heart attack. As it was, I was sure my blood pressure was already through the roof.

  I climbed out of my truck and rounded the back of it, about to hit the button to close the garage door when I heard a little voice call out, “Hi.”

  Looking toward the picket fence between my property and the one next door, I spotted a little girl with long, wild red hair holding on to two of the pickets as she squished her chubby little face in the opening between.

  I’d seen her one other time, a few days ago when her dad had dropped her off. I’d spotted Hayden through my window as she’d rushed to the curb, giving a little hop as a shiny Mercedes that probably overcompensated for a small dick pulled up in front of the house. My first thought was that she was going to give me a coronary if she kept walking around in those little yoga outfits all day every day. If I thought her ass looked outstanding in jeans and leggings, it was nothing compared to how yoga clothes not only showed off but also flaunted her incredible body.

  Those thoughts flew out the window the instant I watched her whip open the back door of the car and nearly catch a little girl with the exact same hair color midair. The air actually expelled from my lungs at the sight of Hayden then. It was the look of sheer joy on her face, the love radiating from her as she clutched the child tight. I felt like I was witnessing the woman slowly being pieced back together after days of having lived broken in two.

  The prick who got out of the driver side and rounded the hood had to have been the ex, and I saw it then, clear as day, he was missing what he’d thrown away, no doubt about it. It was all but chiseled into his face, even as his new bitch sat in the front seat, scowling at Hayden and her girl.

  I hated the jackass on sight.

  Moving toward the fence, I got my first up-close look at the little girl, and if the hair hadn’t made it obvious who she belonged to, the blue gemstone eyes certainly did. She looked like a mini-Hayden, and I thought she was cute as hell. Especially when I caught a glimpse of her outfit.

  Her black long-sleeved tee had a skull and crossbones on the front made out of bright pink sequins. She wore a big, puffy tutu in the exact same pink, and beneath that were black leggings, and shiny combat boots that looked like they were covered in pink glitter. She looked part diva, part princess, part rocker, and all wild with her wavy red hair hanging free, all the way down her back.

  “Hey there,” I said once I was within a couple of feet.

  “I’m Ivy,” she said, her big bright eyes full of curiosity and happiness. “Who’re you?”

  Jesus, this kid. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen one so damn cute before. But still, she needed to be a whole hell of a lot more careful. “I’m Micah. Hasn’t your mom talked to you about stayin’ away from strangers? It’s not safe to go around givin’ your name to just anyone.”

  Her little head cocked to the side, and I noticed then that she had a bright pink flower tucked behind her ear. “But you’re not a stranger,” she said, her Rs coming out a bit thick, sounding more like Ws—again, cute. “Auntie Siva said you’re our neighbor, and people should know their neighbors. So I said hi.”

  “Fair point. Well then, hi back. Speaking of your aunt . . .” I scanned the area nearby. “She out here keepin’ an eye on you?”

  “Yep,” she chirped. “We’re lovin’ the garden. Auntie Siva says dat means I get to tear all the dead stuff outta the ground so all the new, pretty stuff can grow. See?” She held up her hands, showing me they were caked with dirt. Upon closer inspection, so was her tutu. So, she was a rocker/diva/princess/tomboy then. Odd combo, but she seemed to make it work. “You wanna help us love the garden?”

  “No thanks, kid. I had a shit day. I’m gonna go inside and crash.”

  Her mouth dropped open comically wide, and she sucked in a dramatic gasp. “You said shit,” she stage whispered. “You owe me a dollar!”

  My chin jerked back in shock at that. “I’m not givin’ you a fuckin’ dollar,” I declared, the words tumbling out before I could pull them back. Son of a bitch. I wasn’t used to
being around kids, hell, I wasn’t even good with kids, so I hadn’t been prepared to keep my language in check.

  Her chest puffed and her whole body swayed backward on another gasp. “Dat’s five dollars! ’Cause Mommy says dat’s a really bad word.”

  Sylvia joined us at the fence line. “Evenin’, Micah. Glad to see you made it home before the moon came up tonight.”

  “Auntie Siva! Mike said alllllll the bad words!”

  Sylvia arched a single brow. “Did he now?”

  “It’s Micah, not Mike,” I corrected.

  “Dat’s what I said.”

  Deciding it was best to give up on that particular argument, I looked to Sylvia and saw a look of reproach on her face. “Give me a break,” I grunted. “I’m not used to kids. I fu—I messed up.”

  “He owes me six dollars!” the adorable little snitch exclaimed, looking up at her aunt and hopping in place with excitement. “I’m gonna buy ice cream!”

  Well shit. She was just so damn enthusiastic about the idea of having six bucks, I couldn’t bring myself to tell her no. Pulling my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans, I flipped it open and fished out six ones, handing it over to the little extortionist.

  She actually fanned the bills out and counted, making sure they were all there before tucking them into the waistband of her tutu with a resounding nod.

  Had to appreciate the kid’s smarts. She played me with her super cuteness before showing her ruthless side and going in for the kill.

  “All right, well I’m gonna go before this little monster cleans me out.”

  “Mike, wait!”

  I looked down at the kid who looked so much like her mom, thinking, Christ, the men in this town are so fucked when she gets older. “Yeah, Monster?”

  “Wanna have dinner with us? Mommy’s makin’ man-a . . . somethin’—”

  “Manicotti, sweets,” Sylvia assisted.

  “Yeah, dat! And it’s super good! You wanna come over? Please, please, please?”

  Something told me she wasn’t used to hearing the word no, especially from men, and I wasn’t a big fan of being the one to burst that bubble. If the circumstances were different, I’d have told her yes in a heartbeat. But I had a feeling her mom wouldn’t be thrilled with me just walking in and sitting down at the dinner table.

  “Sorry, kid. Maybe some other time.”

  Her whole face fell like I’d just told her Christmas was canceled this year because Santa had gotten into a sleigh crash, Rudolph had died on the scene, and two of the other reindeer were in critical condition.

  “Oh,” she whispered, looking down at the ground as she stuffed the toe of her glittery combat boot into the grass. “Okay.”

  Shit. I hadn’t technically done anything wrong, but I still felt like the world’s biggest jerk. I needed to get the hell out of there fast before I gave her the rest of the cash in my wallet just to bring the smile back to her face.

  “You ladies have a good evenin’, yeah?” I told her and Sylvia. “And enjoy that manicotti.”

  I jerked my chin up to Sylvia before quickly turning and hustling toward my house like a goddamn coward.

  * * *

  Hayden

  The back door opened as I was filling the manicotti shells with my special cheese mixture. “Hey, guys. Dinner’ll be ready in a little less than an hour. I just need to . . .” My sentence trailed off when I saw the dejected expression on my daughter’s face. “What’s the matter, love bug?” She’d been out in the garden with Sylvia, pulling weeds and pruning the plants, so I couldn’t imagine what could have happened to put that look on her face.

  She hung her head, her sadness filling the air all around her little body. “My new friend Mike won’t have dinner with us.”

  I looked to Sylvia in confusion. “Mike?”

  “Micah,” she clarified. “Our little princess spotted him when he got home from work and took an interest.”

  “He gave me six dollars for the swear jar.”

  “Wait . . .” I shook my head. “He gave you money? For swearing?”

  “Yu-huh. He said a bad word, then a really bad word. So I told him he gots to gimme six dollars, and he did.”

  I put down a partially filled manicotti and wiped my hands on the dishtowel I’d hung over my shoulder. “Honey, that swear jar is something for you and me. You don’t tell just anyone they owe you money for saying bad words.”

  I caught Sylvia curling her lips between her teeth to keep from laughing out loud.

  “But—but he gave it to me.”

  I gave her a mom look and held my hand out. She heaved out a huge sigh and rolled her eyes so far back in her head she could probably see her spine before pulling the cash out of her tutu and handing it over.

  “Thank you. Now, what was this about dinner?”

  “I asked him to come. I told him your man-i-stuff was super yummy, but he said he would some other time,” she moped. “I wanted him to eat with us.”

  Ah hell.

  “Well, honey, maybe he’s just tired. You know, he has a really important, stressful job.” Or maybe he didn’t want anything to do with me because he thought I was a bitch. Mainly because I’d been acting like one since that first run-in at the supermarket. With Alex, I might have thrown attitude once in a blue moon, but something about Micah had me on the offensive before a word was even spoken. I lashed out because I wasn’t prepared to feel what I felt every time I saw him. The intensity of it scared the living hell out of me, especially since my marriage had been blown to shreds only months prior.

  Still, I’d spent the past few days feeling fifty kinds of terrible for how our last encounter had ended. I’d told myself time and again that I was going to go over there and make it right, but each day I’d chicken out.

  “Or maybe he doesn’t wanna be my friend.”

  “Or maybe he needs an invite from someone else,” Sylvia added, giving me a look of rebuke. That damn brow was arched again, managing to make her look dignified and judgy at the same time.

  I paused, nerves rolling around in my belly like a pinball being smacked to hell by those damn paddles. “Oh, well, uh . . .”

  Ivy began jumping in place. “Would you, Mommy? Please, please, pretty please?”

  I wasn’t going to win this time, that was for freaking sure, so instead of dragging this out, I relented on a weary sigh. “Fine. I’ll go over and talk to him—but don’t hold your breath,” I added when my girl started to squeal excitedly. I didn’t want her getting her hopes up. “But you guys have to finish stuffing these shells.”

  “Okay, Mommy! We can do dat!”

  “And don’t touch my sauce.” I pointed right at Sylvia since she was a repeat offender when it came to stuff like this. “I have it exactly where I want it, and I don’t need you going behind me and messing it all up. Got it?”

  She held up her hands in surrender. “I won’t touch your precious sauce. Although, I don’t think a few bay leaves would hurt anything.”

  Yuck!

  “Don’t. Add. Anything,” I stressed. There wasn’t much about Sylvia that wasn’t damn near perfect, but her penchant for putting bay leaves in almost everything definitely was one of her downfalls. Those things smelled and tasted awful. And so help me God, if she put them in my perfect sauce, I was going to lose it.

  “All right. All right. Will you just go already? Then you can come back and watch your own damn sauce.” She grumbled that last bit under her breath, purposely loud enough for me to hear.

  With nothing else holding me in place, I let out a huff and started out of the kitchen toward the front door.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hayden

  As I walked up Micah’s drive, I noticed that his ranch style home was completely different than my bungalow. Our neighborhood was much older and more established, meaning it wasn’t full of cookie-cutter houses that all looked exactly the same. That was one of the many things I loved about this place.

  Back in Richmond, Ale
x had moved us into a big house in a fancy gated neighborhood where every other house was identical, and every yard had the exact same stumpy, undeveloped trees. There was no originality and absolutely no personality.

  I pulled in a deep, bolstering breath and knocked on the front door, trying not to fidget as I waited, hoping he would answer.

  Micah’s hair was damp from a recent shower when he came to the door, and the woodsy, spicy scent of his aftershave slammed into me, making heat pool in my belly. “Hayden?” he questioned when all I did was stand there staring like an idiot. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “Oh, um . . .” I had to shake my head to get my thoughts back in order. “Sorry, I just . . .” I noticed then that the money he’d given Ivy earlier was still in my hand, so I thrust my arm out. “I believe this is yours.” He looked at the crumpled bills in confusion. “It’s the money you gave Ivy. I wanted to return it to you.”

  He looked back to me, his strong, dark brows lifting. “But that was for the swear jar thing.”

  I couldn’t stop the smile pulling at my lips. “Yeah, but the swear jar is only for her and me. She knows that.”

  He still hadn’t taken the money. “It’s cool. She can keep it. It’s only a few bucks, anyway.”

  “No, you don’t understand,” I insisted. “If you don’t take this back, she’ll know she’s got you, and I swear, Micah, she’ll fleece you for everything you’ve got if you aren’t more careful.”

  That comment earned me a smirk, the effects of which felt like riding on a rollercoaster. “Yeah, I can see that. Your girl’s pretty used to getting her way, isn’t she?”

  “Most of the time,” I answered honestly, shrugging a shoulder. “But mainly only with men.”

  He let out a chuckle and finally reached to take the cash. “Fine, I’ll keep this, as long as you tell her I only took it under duress.”

  “You got it.”