by Louise, Tia
“How old is your daughter?” Scout’s voice is quiet confusion.
Melody waits impatiently for me to acknowledge that you can be both a princess and a quarterback, information she’d never considered until this moment.
I swallow the knot in my throat. “She’s three and a half.”
Blue eyes flicker to me, and I’m trembling. He’s stunned. He’s confused. He’s trying to understand, but he doesn’t seem angry… or horrified… or shocked. He’s not backing out the door or pushing us away.
“Her birthday is February sixteenth.”
I watch as he thinks. I watch as he blinks, doing the math in his head and coming to the right conclusion. He doesn’t say anything, he simply goes to where she stands in her pink pajamas with a tiara on her head.
Lowering to one knee, he holds out a hand. “Melody, I’m Scout.”
Her nose wrinkles as she studies him. “Scout.” She says the word as if she’s testing it. “Scout, Scout, Scout.” Her little eyebrows pinch, and her rosebud lips are so cute. “Do you play football?”
“As a matter of fact,” he exhales a laugh, and an ache twists in my chest. “I sure do.”
“I’m the quarterback princess.” She says it like it’s now a thing.
“Your majesty.” He places his palm against his chest and bows his head. “I’m honored to meet you.”
Melody’s blue eyes widen like she didn’t expect him to do that. She places a small hand on his shoulder, and I have to blink fast. “Who are you?”
“I’m your brave knight. I’m here to make sure nothing bad ever happens to you.”
My hands flutter to my lips, and a hot tear slips onto my cheek. Our daughter looks up at me, and I manage to smile, giving her a nod. It’s all the reassurance she needs.
“My brave knight.” She clearly likes this idea, because she’s instantly hopping up and down, waving her free arm. “The quarterback princess and the brave knight. Here.”
She puts her pink football in his hands and takes off running to the stairs, bounding up them to her room.
Scout rises, following her with his eyes until she’s gone, and it’s quiet again. He turns to me, and I’m swirling with so much emotion. My chest flares with every heartbeat.
“She’s mine.” His voice is low, thoughtful.
My voice is equally low. “She’s yours.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He’s not angry.
It’s more like confusion, and it’s almost worse than if he were mad. At least if he were mad, I could be defensive. Now I just feel guilty.
“I wanted to tell you in person.” Lowering my hands, I try to explain. “Then I didn’t want you to feel trapped. Then everything went crazy. Then my dad died.” It’s the basic sequence of events over the last four years. “Believe it or not, I was planning to fly to L.A. and tell you now.”
He exhales slowly. “Why now? What changed?”
“You don’t need to worry about taking care of us. Dad left us quite a lot of money, so you can be as involved as you want or not—”
“She’s my daughter.” His voice sharpens. It’s the closest I’ve heard him come to anger. “I want to take care of her. I want to know her. I want…”
He doesn’t finish, but I step forward, holding out my hand, reaching for him. “Yes, that’s good—I want that, too. I just didn’t want it to be forced. For Melody’s sake.”
“What did you say a minute ago? You didn’t want me to feel trapped? Why would you think that?”
“I-I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Bringing up Becky right now feels wrong, so I don’t.
He doesn’t speak for the space of several heartbeats. He takes a step, turning away from me, and I watch his broad shoulders stretching his black tee, rising and falling with his breath.
It’s killing me. “I wish you’d tell me what you’re thinking.”
He pivots slightly. “I have a daughter.”
“We have a daughter.” I hope it’s reassuring.
“I feel this pressure… like I should propose to you or something. Like I should do the right thing.” He says the last part in an affected, judgey-style voice.
“You don’t. We had a fling four years ago. That’s no reason to think we should do anything drastic.”
He quietly considers my words. “It was more than a fling.”
“What else could it be?” I’m equally quiet. “We never dated. We spent a week together.”
“It was a fun week.”
My throat is so tight. “What are you saying?”
He walks around the store, pausing to pick up a figurine. “I came here because I wanted to see you again. I wanted to reconnect and get to know each other again. But now… This changes everything.”
“Does it?”
“Yeah, it does.” His brow is furrowed, and my stomach is tight.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if it’s a good change or a bad change, but I know one thing. “Remember when we were friends?”
He hesitates. “Yes.”
“Maybe we can start there. Want to be friends again?” I try to smile, but his brow is still furrowed.
“We never stopped being friends.”
“Well,” blinking down, I say a little prayer. “Then we’ve started.”
Lifting his chin, he looks around the store. “It looks like you need some help with this stuff. I’m pretty good at lifting and moving things.”
A sliver of relief filters through my chest. “We can start tomorrow.”
He nods. “Good. I’ve got some things to do today.”
Twenty-Three
Scout
I have a daughter.
She’s this magical little golden ball of three-year-old energy, and I’m trying to wrap my mind around it. She’s adorable and funny, and seriously bossy.
She’s mine, and she’s Daisy’s. I almost can’t believe it.
All that time I was alone in L.A., she was here being born, being a baby. My stomach tightens, and my chest burns because my heart has expanded so fast with love for her. I love her. She’s my little girl. And she plays football.
“Go far, brave knight!” She holds the small pink football at her chest like she actually knows what she’s doing.
Go far? I don’t know what to make of it, so I jog away from her a little distance as she hoists the ball with all her strength, kicking out her leg in the back like a ballerina.
The ball curves in a short arc, and for the second and a half it has air, it actually turns in a spiral before bouncing off the ground between us.
Melody looks at it with so much disappointment, like it’s her first incomplete pass.
“That’s okay!” I jog forward, scooping it off the ground and carrying it to her again. “We’re just getting warmed up.”
Taking a knee in front of her, I put my hand on her tiny waist, hoping to comfort her.
Her rosebud lips press into a frown. “You’re not very good at this.”
I can’t help a laugh. “I guess I’m out of practice. Let’s try again.”
“You need a lot of practice.” She says it like I’m hopeless, and I fall completely in love with her.
“I’ll do better, princess. Give me another chance.”
“Okay.” She exhales heavily, lifting the ball to her chest again. “Go far!”
This time I only take one step back as she throws it with all her strength. It makes the tiniest spiral, and I scoop it up before it hits the ground, running to the other end of the field and waving my arms like an idiot.
“Touchdown!” I yell, and she throws both fists over her head, jumping up and down.
Then she stands perfectly still and screams at the top of her lungs.
My heart plunges, and I run to her at top speed, dropping to my knees and catching her waist. “What’s the matter? Does something hurt?”
I look all around her face, her small body, wondering how you know if someone’s appendix has burst.
She stops s
creaming and calmly takes the football. “That’s what the cheerleaders do.”
Turning, she prances away, golden curls bouncing around her shoulders, and I do my best to resume normal breathing. She nearly made my heart stop.
“Since you’re the quarterback princess, you don’t need to be a cheerleader.”
She stops and turns, considering this. “Being a cheerleader hurts my throat. Coco can be a cheerleader.”
Thank God. “Good idea.”
“Go far!” She hoists the ball, and I lunge forward to catch it before it hits the ground.
I hit the ground, rolling onto my back and holding the ball up, wondering how much more of this I can stand. J.R. threw some stinkers when we played together, but he’s got nothing on my daughter.
“She’ll give you a workout.” The familiar male voice makes me pause, and I see the sheriff standing on the sidewalk watching us.
Putting the ball under my arm, I walk over to where he’s standing. “Daisy said you taught her how to play.”
“Didn’t take much teaching. That little girl’s a natural.” He smiles, watching her with pride, and I’m not sure how to feel about this guy.
“You’re close with Daisy?”
“I’ve been checking on her and Emberly since Melody was a baby, or a bossy toddler, I should say. She’s the first little kid who’s ever pointed her finger at me and told me No.”
Pride swells in my chest. “She’s still pretty bossy.”
“Yeah, she is.” He gives me a quick glance, and adds, “She and Coco were the little flower girls when I married Tabby.”
My eyes flicker to his left hand, where a shiny gold band sits. It releases the tension in my shoulders. He’s married. “I’ve got to meet everybody.”
“You will.” He puts his hand on his belt. “The village is pretty small, and the people are very friendly.”
The way he says it makes me think it must be like Fireside. “Friendly and curious?”
“Exactly.” He takes a step as if to go, then pauses. “You planning to be around a while?”
I look over to where my little girl is dancing around with a football under her arm picking the purple clover flowers. “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere.”
Melody has spotted us and runs at top speed to where we’re standing. “Mr. Chad, go far!”
He takes a step back before bending quickly to catch the ball my daughter just hurled at his crotch. “Good. We’re starting to get outnumbered.”
Laughter bubbles in my stomach, and I scoop up my daughter. “Come here, princess. It’s time to get some lunch.”
She squeals with laughter, and I put her on my shoulders. Yeah, I’ll be here for a while.
“What is it?” Daisy frowns at the glossy white statue I’m lifting out of a narrow cardboard box.
It has long, narrow legs and a slender torso, and when I position it on the floor, it’s almost as tall as I am.
“Is it a dog or a deer? Or a horse?” The head is lowered, like it’s sniffing the ground or eating.
“It can’t be a horse. No mane.” She steps around the sculpture in her baggy denim overalls, looking so much like she did when we worked on her aunt’s house. “Maybe it’s a greyhound?”
She looks up at me with those big brown eyes, and I’ve forgotten the question. “Whoever buys it will know.”
“It reminds me of Dimitriov, but he only did human figures.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about. “You’re really smart with all this stuff.”
Her nose wrinkles, and she takes out a small white price tag. “There’s a lot I don’t know. I can ask Spencer. Not everything in the store needs a pedigree to sell.”
I watch as she prices it at $200 and attaches the tag to the ear. “Where do you want it?”
“It’s very dramatic. Maybe in the front window? Since it’s white, we don’t have to worry about it fading in the sun.”
Reaching around the animal’s body, I lift it and carry it over to the gallery window up front. She’s right behind me, carrying the inventory sheet, and it takes a few minutes for me to angle it to her satisfaction.
Our little girl is in preschool today, and I met her equally bossy best friend Coco this morning when they met up to walk to school.
“Chad seems like a good guy.” I follow her back to the tower of boxes we’ve relocated behind the cash register.
“He really is. He’s been popping in here checking on Melody and me since she was a baby.”
“That’s what I heard.” He’s married, but I still feel a twinge of possessiveness. “Is there some reason he does that?”
Daisy’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“It seems pretty quiet around here. Not a lot of traffic, no transients.”
“Oh.” Her expression relaxes. “I think he just likes being a presence, and with all the tourists during the high season, it’s nice to have him around. He’s like an extra set of eyes.”
“I see.” I lift a sheet of bubble wrap out of a box, and Daisy cuts her eyes at me.
“For a minute it sounded like you might be jealous.”
My eyes lift from the old guitar I’ve uncovered to meet hers, and a naughty little sparkle greets me. I drop the plastic on the floor and walk over to where she’s standing by a tall bookshelf.
“So what if I was?” Placing my hands on the ledge beside her, I lean down. “I want to know who’s hanging around my girls.”
“Your girls?” Her chin lifts, and our faces are so close.
We’re caught in a moment of heat and curiosity. I’ve kissed her in the past and it was sexy. I’ve kissed her in the ocean with my hand between her thighs, and it was blazing. Now she’s the mother of my little girl, a little girl who stole my heart and put it in her pocket.
I wonder what it would be like to kiss her again. I’m pretty sure it would be off the charts. Her full bottom lip slides between her teeth, and I’m ready to find out when the bell over the door jangles.
Daisy’s breath exhales on a little sigh I feel below the belt, and she leaves me to greet the older lady who has just entered.
“I heard you had some new help, Daisy. Are you planning to introduce me?” The old woman is stout and fussy, and her short, poufy hair is lavender.
She marches over to where I’m standing, trying to recover from that moment, like a small drill sergeant, and scowls up at me. “What’s your name, young man?”
“I’m Scout Dunne, Melody’s dad.” I hold out my hand, and her eyebrows jump.
“You’re Melody’s dad?” She looks from me to Daisy. “Where have you been?”
She says it in such an accusatory way, I almost laugh.
Daisy rushes over before I can answer. “He was in Los Angeles.” She motions between us. “Scout, this is Betty Pepper. She owns the Pack and Save on the corner. Where André works?”
“It’s Peppers Fine Goods now, Daisy Sales.” She’s a fussy old broad. Good thing I have experience with those.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Pepper. I heard you’re related to Owen. I grew up in Fireside.”
“Why weren’t you here helping to raise your daughter?”
Daisy makes a noise and presses a hand on her forehead. “He didn’t know about her, Ms. Betty. It’s not his fault.”
“Daisy Sales. Why in the world would you keep that information from him?”
“It’s really a long story.” Daisy picks up the inventory list and holds it up. “We’re so busy unpacking and pricing all of this stuff. What can I do for you?”
I get another sideways glance. “Well, you’re here now. That little girl is a handful.”
“I think she’s all right.” My tone is sharp, and I’m not sure where the sudden defensiveness comes from.
Either way, this old lady had better think twice if she’s going to criticize my daughter. It’s true, the quarterback princess is a bossy little handful, but only I can say that. And maybe Daisy.
Betty Pepper nods,
giving me an unexpected smile. “You might be okay, Scout Dunne.” She returns to Daisy. “I won’t keep you, but Tabby said that Travis Walker is back in town. I thought you should know.”
That guy. I lean back, crossing my arms. I’d like to see the asshole poking his nose around Daisy’s store. It might get punched.
“I already know.” Daisy pulls the guitar out of the box and carries it to the counter. “He came by the store on Friday.” My arms lower, and Daisy’s brown eyes flicker to my change in posture. She quickly adds. “I told him I wasn’t interested. I don’t think he’ll be back.”
“Either way, it’s good to be aware. Those French doors don’t lock.” Ms. Betty goes to the entrance, and before she leaves, she smiles and nods to me. “Come by and have some lunch. I’ll tell André to give you a free soda.”
“Thanks.” She’s gone, and I watch as Daisy is very focused on pricing the guitar. “What’s that about?”
“Free drinks? I think that means she likes you.”
“No, that Travis guy. What’s his story?”
“No story.” Her brow furrows. “I went out with him a few times a few years ago. Actually, we never really went out. He just stopped by to chat. I was alone, and it was nice to have a man around.”
Heat burns in my stomach. “I don’t like him.”
“I don’t either.” Her tone is quiet resolve.
I quietly resolve my girls will never be alone like that again.
A smile curls her pink lips. “It was pretty cute the way you flew to Melody’s defense. She can be a bossy little handful, you know.”
“She’s not going to let anybody push her around. She’s like her mama.”
Daisy blinks at me quickly, pink filling her cheeks. “We’ve been going steady all day. You can take off now if you want.”
I glance at the clock, and it’s after five. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Good first day.”
Twenty-Four
Daisy
A bead of sweat traces down my back as I stand in the shadows on my balcony overlooking Main Street. The air doesn’t move tonight, but I can still catch the faintest taste of salt on my tongue from the ocean. It has me itchy and restless, remembering the salt water swirling around me in Scout’s arms, his hand sliding lower between my legs…
