Page 16 of Peaches & Pistols

With Greyson standing beside me, I feel grounded. He’s a tall man, but nothing like Carter. I was initially attracted to his height, several inches over six feet. Over time, his stature was one of the easiest ways to put me in line.

I’m comforted that Greyson can’t loom over me. Because I’ll be working for him, of course. That’s all. It’s important to feel safe around your employer. These silly thoughts are nothing more than that.

Fear floods my veins at the consequences I’d face for even looking at another man. The plastic pen creaks from my death grip. Everly’s paperwork is barely legible. Hopefully it’s enough to get her enrolled.

“Listen,” he begins again and my heart stops, terrified of what he’s going to say.

“I’m not going pry into your business, but if you need help”—His pointed expression tells me how serious he is—“with anything, you tell me. I’ll get whatever you need faster and more discreetly than the traditional channels.”

He doesn’t know my story, but somehow, he knows. He sees right through me.

I can’t bear to look at him when I admit this, but I know I need his help.

“I need a new driver’s license, and a copy of Everly’s birth certificate, at the very least.”

“Done.”

“What?” He can’t be serious.

“Done. Just leave me with the key details and I’ll have it for you as soon as possible,” Greyson assures me, confidence unwavering.

Who is this man, and what angel led me to him?

6

Something isn’t sitting right with me about Mia’s situation. Actually, nothing about Mia’s situation is sitting right with me. She’s running from something, and if I took a wild guess, I bet I know what from.

I know beyond a doubt that there’s no place safer in the world than in my radius of influence. Folks around here are more afraid of me than a loaded pistol.

But having a strange woman and her child moving into my small home, exposing my daughter to unvetted individuals, has my protective instincts screaming.

Mia’s not giving off serial killer vibes, but I’ll feel better once I run her through my system, which I’ll be doing as soon as I get to work.

“Mama! Kindy-garden is ‘mazing! I have my own chair! It’s red! And a hook for my pack-pack. And I get to bring my lunchbox!” Excitement is vibrating off Everly’s tiny frame. Her hair’s grown so wild, it’s bigger than she is.

It hasn’t been that long since Harper was starting kindergarten, and a twinge of nostalgia hits me straight in the chest. My little girl’s growing up; I miss when she was this small.

“That’s amazing, baby! Are you so excited to come back on Monday?”

The sheer joy Mia has for her daughter’s happiness is both wonderful, and baffling. I can already tell she’s an incredible mother. But she’s also perfected pushing her struggles aside and not putting them on Everly’s tiny shoulders.

I know a thing or two about that—as the parent, and as the child who was crushed beneath the weight of a parent’s problems.

“How long to Monday?” Everly asks.

“Couple of days, but it’ll be here sooner than you think.” Mia smooths her daughter’s wild hair to no avail.

“Alright dearies, you’re all set to go! I’ll keep an eye out for those documents in the next few weeks,” the secretary chirps.

“Thank you so much for your flexibility.” Mia’s relieved but I can tell she’s struggling with her circumstances.

I have a visceral urge to solve all her problems at any cost. But that’s absurd. She’s no one to me other than my kid’s new nanny—that is, if it even works out.

I’m lost in thought as we exit the school, leading the girls to my truck on autopilot. Mia beats me to the door and buckles Everly in herself.

“My god, it’s hot today!” Mia huffs, plopping into the passenger seat. The wispy golden curls framing her face have dampened from sweat in the hot summer morning.

I grunt in agreement, unable to form a better reply, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Everly talks a mile a minute as we head back to the ranch. It’s a huge detour during my work day, but I do what needs to be done, as always.