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What I wouldn’t give to rewind time and relive the earlier days of her childhood. The ones where she didn’t back-talk or roll her eyes. The ones where I was her hero and could do no wrong.
Everyone told me to enjoy it while it lasted. At the time, I thought they were crazy. How in the hell was I supposed to enjoy fatherhood? It was never-ending: the sleepless nights, crying, bottles, and an endless number of poopy diapers. Oftentimes, I walked through life like a zombie, praying that I’d get more than four or five hours of sleep. So, yeah, at the time, I wasn’t enjoying parenthood.
But I was also a single father working a full-time job and taking care of a house entirely by myself. It was exhausting. Still is, albeit a little easier without a tiny rug rat attached to my ankle.
Hindsight is twenty-twenty, and I see now what everyone was talking about.
“Hey, Chlo?”
She doesn’t even look up. “Yeah?”
“Do you wanna shoot some hoops?”
“Nah.”
“We could have a water gun fight. I’ve got those old Super Soakers in the garage.”
“I’m good.”
“Afraid you’ll lose to your old man?”
Chloe finally glances up. She looks so much like her mother that I sometimes have to blink to remind myself that it’s not Valerie sitting there. “Dad, I just wanna watch this YouTube video.”
Damn. “Okay. I’m going to be outside.”
“Okay, Dad.”
I’m just finishing up changing the oil in my truck when I hear a muted curse. I grab a towel from my workbench and walk outside in time to see Scarlett kick her dad’s lawnmower.
“Stupid piece of shit.”
“Everything okay over there?”
Scarlett looks up. She blows a chunk of hair out of her eyes and waves me off. “Fine. Everything’s fine.”
This is going to be entertaining. I grab a lawn chair from the garage and park my ass in the middle of the driveway.
When Scarlett sees me sitting there, she stops fussing with the mower and glares at me. “What’re you doing?”
“Watching you.”
“This isn’t a fucking show, Tucker. Go back to whatever it is you were doing.”
“I’m done doing what I was doing. Now, I’m watching you.”
My words prompt her to flip me the bird. “I hate you, Tucker Andrews.”
“The feeling is quite mutual,” I lie.
Because I don’t hate Scarlett Kincaid. Not one bit. I sure as hell wish I did because it would make things a lot easier. But after lying in bed awake half the night thinking about her, I realized one thing; despite all the anger I’ve carried around, my feelings for her haven’t changed. She’s still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. She still drives me absolutely crazy. And she knows how to press every button I have. I’m utterly and completely smitten by the girl, attitude and all.
And for the first time in twelve years, I find myself smiling for no reason.
“What the hell are you smilin’ at?” she huffs.
“You. You make me smile.”
That has her standing up straight. “Are you drunk?”
“Nope.”
“High?”
I laugh. “I wish.”
Scarlett just shakes her head and goes back to the lawnmower. I could tell her that it’s not starting because it’s out of gas, but what would be the fun in that? I’m actually kind of glad I forgot to fill it back up after I mowed Rick’s lawn two weeks ago.
It won’t hurt her to figure something like that out on her own. I bet Scarlett hasn’t mowed a lawn since she was seventeen. If I had to guess, I’d say there’s a lot of things she hasn’t done, like go grocery shopping, change a light bulb, clean out a drain, or plunge a toilet.
Yeah, I’m totally not telling her it’s out of gas.
I kick my legs out in front of me and relax in my chair, content to sit there and watch her figure out what the problem is.
She pushes on the choke several times and tries to start it. Nothing. She flips the lawnmower over and meticulously cleans out every blade of grass from underneath and then tries to start it again. Nothing. I choke back a laugh when she digs out the manual and tries to troubleshoot it that way. Nothing.
After thirty minutes of failed attempts, Scarlett puts her hands on her hips and marches toward me.
“Well, are you going to help me or not?”
“I’ve just been waiting for you to ask.”
She gives me a well look.
“What’s the magic word?”
She growls. “You drive me insane.”
I grin. “Nope, that’s not it. Let me give you a hint. It’s one word. Chloe has been using it since she was two, so I’m confident you can, too.”
“Please,” she says between gritted teeth.
I push up from my chair and walk across the yard. “I would love to help you out, Scarlett. Why did you wait so long to ask?”
She grumbles something as she follows behind me. I grab a gas can from the garage, fill up the lawnmower, and start it on the first pull.
