Page 8 of Peaches & Pistols

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, man. Hope the universe drops a suitable nanny into my lap? I’m out of options.” I sit on a bale of hay, head in my hands. “The agency won’t send me any more candidates.”

Reid chuckles. “You’ve fired or scared off every nanny they’ve sent. Are you surprised that’s their stance?”

No. I’m not surprised. Irritated as shit is more like it.

“I already told you, I just need lucky number seven.” The stubble of my unshaven face rasps against my palms.

“A seventh nanny in a year is insane, Grey. You have to know that.” Of course I know that, asshole. “At this point you’d have an easier time hiring a manager for the hardware store and watching Harper after school yourself.”

There’s a select few I trust to watch my kid, and fewer to have access to my store. That sounds fucked up, trusting more people with my kid than my store, but it’s not my livelihood I’m worried about. It’s the favors, the files, the shit that doesn’t show up on the inventory list or tax returns. Things that need to be guarded by a Clark, from the…other business dealings.

“If you’re not gonna help, get the hell out of here. You’re in my way,” Reid says, lacking any bite.

He’s right, I’m useless right now. Might as well head to the store and get my head on straight.

“You and Izzy gonna be able to get things set up this morning without me? Where is she anyway?” Usually, his wife’s out here with us bright and early; if not helping, then supervising with a hot drink.

“She ran to town for her dirty chai. Who knows what mischief she’s getting into.” The warmth in his voice grates on my nerves. All these loved up fools make me sick to my stomach.

“Alright. I’ll be back to pick up Harper before dinner.”

“You know that’s not going to fly. Mom’s going to hold Harper hostage and force you to stay for dinner.”

His raised eyebrow is more pronounced with his hair pushed out of his face. I see him so often, the scars that mar his skin don’t register anymore. But sometimes when he makes certain facial expressions, I notice how the right side of his mouth doesn’t raise as high, or his right eye droops slightly.

A dirt bike accident left Reid heavily scarred on the outside, and even deeper on the inside. He lost himself after the accident, becoming more reclusive as the years passed. After Sam died, we nearly lost Reid too.

Not sure I’ve ever, or would ever tell her, but I’m grateful to Izzy for bringing Reid back from the brink. Love’s not total bullshit, it just isn’t made for men like me.

“We’ll see.” I leave the barn without waiting for Reid’s response.

My truck fires up and I roll the windows down immediately, the summer morning already uncomfortably warm. A silent drive with fresh mountain air as my sole companion should clear my head.

The hardware store is my domain, the one place I have complete control—and I’m in need of a day with no surprises.

“Truck keys, please.” Izzy’s leaning on the front counter at the hardware store, hand outstretched like it’s a given I’m going to do whatever she says.

I stare blankly at her and go back to my paperwork.

“Truck keys, or house keys, Greyson. Your choice,” she sing-songs.

“What are you on about?”

“I need the car seat out of your truck, or the spare I know you keep upstairs.”

Harper and I live in the apartment above the store. The small space works just fine for the two of us, and the commute to her school is unbeatable; except for when I have to drive her to and from Lucky Spurs Ranch every day since I don’t have a goddamn nanny.

“Why? You and Reid have a kid I don’t know about?”

“You’re infuriating, you know that? Why do you have to be so difficult?” Izzy huffs. “Did you leave one with Cecelia if she wants to take Harper anywhere?”

Shit. No, I didn’t. I completely forgot this morning. She must’ve asked Izzy to come pick it up while she was in town.

I dig my keys from my front pocket and toss them in the air, which Izzy scrambles to catch.

“Thank you!” she sings, heading straight through the store to the back stairs like she owns the place.