“You’re despicable.” I couldn’t help grinning as I swatted at his arm. “Don’t you have some place to go?”
“Sadly, yes. But I’ll be texting you for updates, and if you don’t respond, I’ll text Flynn. Oh, and I’ll be back in town in two weeks.” He winked and grinned lasciviously. “Another, ah, business meeting in Savannah. And this one might just close the deal.”
“Oooh, baby!” I mimed his words and leer. “And ifyou,my friend, don’t decide to tell all, I might just hold out on you when it comes to Flynn and me.”
“Aha!” Alex held up one finger. “I knew it. I knew there was something going on.”
I sighed, shaking my head. “You’re such a pain in the ass. Go home, Alex. Go terrorize the good people of Atlanta.”
“Going.” He grabbed me and gave me a smacking kiss on the cheek. “But I’m coming back. And when I do, I want the juicy stuff.”
“DADDY!” BRIDGET RAN OUT of the school, her smile wide. Her dark hair was in braids that bounced on her back as she trotted toward me, and her backpack dangled from one shoulder.
“Hey, pretty girl!” I caught her with both arms and swung her up. “How was school today?”
Her grin began to fade. “It was okay.”
I set her back on her feet. I’d been told that eight years was too old to hold her for more than just a hug, and I was conscious of not embarrassing my daughter in front of her friends at school. Fatherhood was new, but I remembered being in second grade. “Why was it just okay? Did something happen?”
She shrugged as I led her toward my truck. I’d returned the Audi to the rental company two weeks before and leased a Chevy pickup from the dealership. I’d never considered myself a truck man, but it felt right, what with my new life in Burton. Opening the passenger door, I boosted Bridget into the cab, and she climbed into the small backseat.
I didn’t press her for an answer as we drove to my mom’s house. She was quiet, and that worried me. One thing I’d learned about my daughter in the past three weeks was that she was a bubbly, happy kid. Nothing seemed to bother her, not even when Graham, my little demon of a nephew, tortured her dolls. Glancing at her small face in the rearview mirror, I saw only troubled brown eyes. No sparkle, no laughter.
I turned into my mother’s driveway, pulling to the side so that Mom could get to the garage after she got home. I knew she wouldn’t be long behind me; she’d gone back to work at the library last week, but she always cut out early on Tuesdays, when Bridget stayed with us.
After I shut off the engine, Bridge undid her seatbelt and slid into the front seat. Before she could open the door, I caught her arm. “Hey, kiddo. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? What happened today?”
She frowned again and twisted the end of one braid around her finger. “Nothing.”
I sighed, rubbing my hand over my jaw. “Do you miss your mom? Do you want me to drive you home? I mean, back to the farm?” It hurt that she might feel that way, but seeing her smile again was more important than how I felt.
Bridget shook her head. “No. I mean . . . I miss Mom, but I know I’m going to see her tomorrow, and I want to be with you, too.” Her lip stuck out, trembling just a little.
“Bridget, honey, talk to me. I want to know what’s wrong.” When she didn’t answer, I dug into my pocket and brought out my cell phone. “Want to call your mom and talk to her? Would that help?”
“No, thanks.” She clamored onto her knees. “Can we go inside now? Grandma said she was making me brownies for today.”
“Okay.” I climbed out and went around to the other side to help her down. We went into the house, and as was her habit, Bridget hung her backpack on the newel post and followed me into the kitchen. I cut two brownies, poured us some milk and was just about to join her at the table when my phone buzzed. The readout on the screen blinked twice, signaling an incoming call.Ali.
I hit the button and answered. “Hey, Ali. Everything okay?”
Her voice, low and coated with a lifetime of Georgia, filled my head. “Uh, hey, Flynn. Yeah, I think so—but can I talk to you just a minute? Is Bridget right there with you?”
I glanced at my daughter, who was completely involved with her chocolate. I couldn’t help smiling at the sight. “Yeah, we just got home. She’s elbow-deep in Grandma’s brownies.”
“Mmmm. Color me jealous.” Ali’s near-purr went straight down through my center and settled between my legs. I coughed and turned my back.
“So what’s up?” I didn’t mean to sound gruff, but Ali’s voice changed to all business.
“I got a call from the school just now. Bridget’s teacher, Mrs. Hazelbeck, said there was some kind of dust-up on the playground.”
“Bridge was fighting?” My daughter was a scrapper, but she was usually a pretty chill kid.
“No, she wasn’t, but someone was. I guess it was a kid named Charlie and Graham.”
“Graham? My nephew?”
“Yeah.” Ali exhaled long a long breath. “Mrs. Hazelbeck said no one wanted to talk, but she finally got the whole story out of Charlie. Apparently, Graham was giving Bridget a hard time, and Charlie was defending her.”
