“Hey! Wet go!” she yells over her shoulder. Angry blue eyes meet mine, their color vaguely familiar.
Keeping my arm around her waist, I crouch and set her on my bended knee. “Where’s your mum?” I ask. “Let me help you track her down.”
The kid’s not having it. She struggles against my hold, nearly toppling us both to the floor. “I want pancakes!”
I stay calm but hold her tighter. “We’ll fix you pancakes once we findyour mum.”
She goes still. Her eyes narrow. “You talk like Booey! Are you from Stralia, too?”
“Who?” It takes a few seconds to work out what she’s said, but when I do, I notice how quiet the diner is and how many eyes are on us.
No idea what a Booey is, but I reckon her question about where I’m from has everything to do with me talking about tracking down her mum. Three years, and this is the first time I’ve slipped into my Aussie accent with someone besides my regulars. Of course, it’d be today when Flamingo’s full of outsiders.
Pearl walks by—hot coffee in one hand, a plate of runny eggs in the other—oblivious to the disaster I saved her from, and glances down. “What are you doing here, Juniper?”
The bite in Pearl’s raspy voice brings tears to the girl’s eyes, and she stops fighting me long enough to cry, “I want Daddy.”
“Juniper’s loose, Flo,” Pearl yells. “Better call, Cal.”
I take a closer look at her, and I see it. She’s Cal’s kid.
“Your daddy’s told me about you. Do you know where he is?” Keeping hold of the wild thing, I stand, looking around for Cal.
Junie snort-sniffs and shakes her head.
“Sit her at the counter,” Flo barks before coming out of the kitchen tapping on her mobile and mumbling, “He’s probably frantic.”
I glance down at Junie who’s blinking back tears. “You want to choose where to sit, love?” I ask softly.
“Can you talk like Booey, again?” Juniper lifts her arms to me, one tear running down her face.
“Oh.” I blink, not quite sure what to do. I'm still not sure who or what abooeyis, and I know even less about kids.
This kid, though, needs someone to hold her. I know that feeling. That feeling is practically my best mate. Which means,I scoop her into my arms before my brain registers what I’m doing
“My name’s Frankie,” I whisper, in my own voice. I’ve already slipped with her once; it won’t hurt to use it again. Plus, it’s not right hiding things from a kid.
“I like Booey.” Junie sticks her thumb in her mouth, then curls into me, nestling her head on my shoulder.
My whole body swims with an unfamiliar emotion whose source, I suspect, is my ovaries.Brilliant.
The door crashes open followed by a panicked shout. “Did Junie come in here?”
With the Tassie devil-turned-cuddly-toddler in my arms, I turn to face the same striking blue pair of eyes in Callahan Holloway. The panic in them turns to surprise, then something soft.
Junie squirms out of my arms and runs to him. He swings a large backpack from one shoulder to the other and bundles her up in his free arm.
“Did you lose me ‘gin, Daddy?” Junie giggles. She puts both hands on his cheeks and turns his face to hers, breaking the gaze between Cal and me. “Can I have pancakes now, pease?”
“Junie, I told you to stay right next to me,” he scolds, gently.
Something tugs in my chest, nudging me out of the intimate scene I’ve got no part in. But as I hurry behind the counter, I can’t stop my eyes darting back to Cal and Junie.
“I sorry. I hungry.” Her lip goes out, which I suspect she’s already learned is her way out of trouble.
“You scared Daddy.” Cal tries to hold firm, but Junie’s already squirmed from his arms and runs to the counter.
She points to Gerry’s seat. “We sit here?”
