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“Just do it,” Billy urged.
“You promise he won’t get mad?”
I whistled a little louder. Being a good dad wasn’t always easy. But it was always worth it. I repeated that to myself like a mantra. It was a mantra I’d decided to drill into myself when I found out I was going to be a father. I might be a lot of things, but I was never going to be him. My own father was a narcissistic asshole who saw his kids as trophies. He didn’t even give a shit about gramps or his failing health. If you didn’t serve a purpose, he’d cast you out of his life without a second thought.
A small hand suddenly clutched mine and Molly started tugging like she was trying to break free from my grasp.
I looked down at my daughter and felt my stomach drop when she met my gaze. She did the breathing exercise I’d taught her when she was scared, never taking her big eyes from mine. Oh, shit. What did you put her up to, Billy?
“He’s not my daddy!” she screamed.
Her voice might as well have been a gunshot. Every pair of eyes in the small store was on us in an instant. For the longest second of my life, nobody moved.
The only sign that time hadn’t frozen was my precious little daughter tugging against my hand like I was the one holding her. I stared at her. Curly brown hair and big blue eyes. She had the face of an angel, and a few steps behind her stood the little devil who took after his dad. Billy was watching with the wide eyes of a pyromaniac who had just lit a fire and was somewhere between awe and terror at how quickly it had grown.
“Billy,” I said very carefully while Molly continued to tug at my hand and repeat that I wasn’t her daddy. “Tell these nice people this is your idea of a joke.”
I moved toward Billy, dragging Molly behind me as she continued her act of pretending to pull away from me. I reached for him.
That turned out to be a mistake.
My own son met my eyes, grinned for an instant, then clapped his hands to his face and did his best Home Alone scream.
I chuckled nervously, lifting my free hand while I looked around the shop. “These kids,” I muttered. I knelt down to get in their faces. Molly was red in the face from screaming and Billy’s mouth was open so wide I could see his tonsils.
“Tell them you two are joking,” I hissed at them.
I turned just in time to see a very small, very attractive woman winding up to hit me over the head with her purse.
2
HARPER
I pulled up to McDermit’s General Store in my old PT Cruiser, Rose. Rose was the kind of car that had been around the block and hadn’t exactly been given an oil change on any of those trips around the block. Or new tires. Or any of the other things you’re supposed to do to keep your car in good running condition.
I loved the car, but I was the wrong combination of poor and car illiterate to really take care of it. She let out a chugging, choking sound and gave a happy little shake when I put her in park and turned off the engine. I tried to imagine it like a cute dog shivering before curling up to sleep.
It definitely didn’t have anything to do with all the flashing warning lights about my engine on the dash.
I needed to grab a few supplies and then hurry back home to work on the catering order for tomorrow night. Fairhope was a small town, and it was exactly the kind of small town that threw adorable little events almost every weekend. We had the slippery pig chase, the butt-balloon-buster, the town wide hide and seek, and dozens of other yearly events to look forward to. Tomorrow night was what we called the Night of Lights, where all the kids let paper lanterns loose at the bottom of the river and tried to race up to the bridge on Mainstreet in time to see which one came through first.
And I was going to get the perfect opportunity to show off what I’d learned on my brief culinary tour in France by catering it all. In our little world, the fact that I’d gone out of the country to study the culinary arts was just about the most exciting thing that had happened in recent memory. I’d been back over two months and I still got asked about it almost every day.
I popped into McDermit’s and froze at the door, eyes going wide.
There was a man in line who towered over everybody. He was stacked with muscle, but I couldn’t quite see his face. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and I found my eyes locked on the shape of his broad, delicious shoulders, tapered waist, and long legs. He looked like he could’ve picked up the entire beverage fridge and tossed it through a window without breaking a sweat. Or picked me up and dragged me kicking and squealing back to whatever sexy cave he came from…
