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“Just call me, Palmer.”
“Fine.”
“Love you,” she singsongs.
“Love you too, brat.”
Her laughter fills my ears as I end the call and finish putting my groceries away.
After everything is put away, I run to my room, brush my teeth, and freshen up a little. I blame my best friend for putting thoughts that shouldn’t be there in my head, but here I am, letting a little piece of her assumption take root in my soul.
Locking up my house, I hop back into his truck and head back toward his place. I drive slow, slower than I need to, not because I’m worried about driving his beast of a truck, but because I need to clear my head and get Ramsey’s suggestions to disappear.
Pulling into the driveway, I curse when I see a black Tahoe. I know that vehicle. His brother is here, and even though it shouldn’t be, this feels like it’s going to be all kinds of awkward.
Climbing out of the truck, I stand tall and make my way to the front door. I knock once when a deep voice calls out for me to “Come on in.” Grabbing the handle, I turn, pushing open the door. I set my purse, phone, and keys on the small table in the foyer and follow the voices.
“Hey.” I wave. My eyes find Brooks, and he smiles. I then move to Declan and smile at him, and then my gaze travels to his adorable daughter, Blakely. “I love your pigtails,” I tell the sweet little girl.
“Thanks. My daddy makes them.” She offers me a toothy smile. “Hims does awright, but Rams and Mamaw’s are better,” she says, matter of fact.
“Well, I think your daddy does a great job,” I tell her, my eyes finding Declan’s. He shrugs and grins. “Thank you for taking my car on,” I say.
He nods. “I should have it done tomorrow sometime.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s what I do.” He gently tugs on one of his daughter’s pigtails. “You ready to go, squirt?”
“I’s hungry.”
Declan chuckles. “You’re always hungry,” he teases.
“Uncle Brooks, you’s got any snacks?”
“You know where they are,” Brooks answers.
Blakely nods and races to what I see is the pantry as she opens the door. On the bottom shelf, there appears to be an array of snacks. “Teddy’s!” Blakely exclaims.
“You’re going to spoil her dinner,” Declan grumbles.
“You know I can’t say no to her,” Brooks counters. “I buy them for her.”
“You all spoil her. Do you realize how bad it’s going to be when she’s a teenager? Uncle Brooks, I need a manicure. Uncle Brooks, Dad says I can’t get my hair done. You better start learning now. That shit’s about to get expensive.”
“Daddy, bad word,” Blakely announces as she hands Brooks the small pack of Teddy Grahams for him to open for her. He does with a smile, handing them back to her.
“What do you say?” Declan asks her.
“Tank you.” She smiles up at Brooks, and he bends over, picking her up in his arms and kissing her cheek.
“Who’s your favorite uncle?” he asks her.
“You are.”
Declan laughs. “You do realize she tells all of you that you’re her favorite, right?”
“Blakely.” Brooks gasps, placing the hand that’s not holding her over his heart. “Are you playing me?”
