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“Miss Harper, can we eat with you?” Syd blinks adoring eyes at Harper, playing a part I’d never ask her to. But damn. She puts on an irresistible performance.
The woman under my daughter’s spell glances at her so-called date, a silent plea in her gaze.
Daniel sighs, the fight leaving him with that heavy exhale. “Fine, you can push the tables together.”
I pat him on the shoulder, a satisfied smirk painting my lips. “You’re definitely going to regret this.”
There’s a distinct thrum under my skin as I shift my car into park at Evans Auto Repair. This is my first visit to Jake’s shop since he took the business over from his dad several years ago.There hadn’t been a reason for me to drop by until now.
I’m still rattled after my failed date featuring Jake’s one-sided pissing match. His insufferable commentary chased off Dr. Daniel Pumper—which is a name meant for crude jokes, if I’m being honest. That’s beside the point.
No matter which way I flip the scene, it always comes out upside down. I’ve thought of little else since we parted ways last night.Almost twenty-four hours later and my brain is the consistency of confused mush. There’s no logical explanation for Jake’s possessive behavior. I’d blame it on Sydney wanting to see me, but her father isn’t the type to blindly agree to share a meal with a person he loathes. There’s no sense to be made without answers.
His bold logo plastered on the glass door taunts me. He’s not the only one who can drop by unannounced. So, here I am, prepared to deliver a taste of his own medicine. If nothing else, I’ll leave him guessing.
The lobby is empty when I walk in, only a basic chime welcomes me. My stride doesn’t falter as my boots squeak across the linoleum. I show myself into the garage from the door behind the desk. There’s not a chance I’m trading shock and awe for hesitation.
Hinges creak in protest at my determined entrance. I’ve barely stepped two feet inside the concrete fortress when I’m spotted.
“Miss Harper!” Sydney zips toward me at breakneck speed, crashing into my legs for a hug.
I loop my arms around her small frame to return the embrace. “Hey, cutie pie.”
Her chin rests on my thigh as she stares up at me. “Hi.”
A rhythmic pawing on my shin draws my attention farther down. Glitzy refuses to be neglected and begs without shame. The pampered Pomeranian is more fluff than body with two pink bows near her barely visible ears to show for it.
I lower into a crouch, giving the pooch a scratch under the chin. “And hello to you too.”
“We’re super excited to see you.” Syd bounces on the soles of her sparkly shoes. Her dark hair is wild and quirky, much like her personality. Her infectious energy radiates from the inside out. I tug on an untamed curl while a smile spreads across my lips.
“How was school today?”
“Great! I colored a picture. Wanna see?” She whips out a piece of folded paper from her dress pocket and thrusts it into my hands.
I open the creases with care. My next breath whooshes out in an unexpected rush. “Oh, my goodness.”
The sight blurs my vision. Three misshapen figures are drawn in a crooked line. There’s a ball of brown under the largest one’s arm. Neat handwriting tags the identity of each individual.
“Miss Tiffany helped me write the names. See? There’s my daddy holding Glitzy ‘cause shelooooovesto be carried. I’m the one dancing in the middle. My tutu has lotsa colors like a rainbow. And there’s you, cheering for me like always!”
I lift my watery gaze to find Jake staring at me from in front of an elevated truck. It doesn’t feel right that Sydney left her mom out of the picture. Morgan should be included, not me. But I’m not sure it’s my place to mention that detail.
Regardless, my role in Syd’s life doesn’t deserve a front-row seat. Maybe I’m getting too involved. The pang that immediately smacks my chest demands that I retract the comment.
“This is very special. I love it,” I manage to whisper. “The resemblance is uncanny.”
Sydney’s smile could illuminate the sky. “I tried my very bestest.”
“You did great, superstar.”
“Thanks!” She does a tendu that leads into a step touch sequence, then bends into a?plié and ends with a bow.
I clap with extra enthusiasm while attempting to swipe at my unshed tears. “Beautiful.”
“Why are you crying? Is your car broken?” Her blue eyes hold a glimmer of concern. “My daddy can fix it.”
“No, my car is fine.” It’s my impulsive attitude that requires repair. I’m beginning to realize this stunt could end in disaster.
