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The kid was a straight shooter. It was something most Bridgestones were proud of, so he couldn’t fault her on it.
“I need a shower,” he replied with a shrug.
“But I’m hungry, and Tabitha isn’t here, and I don’t know where Uncle Ry is, and I can’t reach the high cupboard. I mean, Icanreach it, but I’m not supposed to stand on chairs. The last time I did, I fell and had a big boobie on my elbow and Daddy yelled at Uncle Ry. And then Uncle Ry got mad and yelled back, and they forgot about my frosted flakes, and I had to have toast instead because that’s in the bottom cupboard and I don’t have to stand on a chair to get that.” She inhaled sharply, nearly out of breath, and grinned. “Uncle Ry makes the best breakfast.” Her eyes widened, and she did a little dance. “Sometimes, we have breakfast for supper. My favorite is pancakes with whipped cream and honey and strawberries.”
“You don’t say.” He fished out his cell from his back pocket, noting it was just past six a.m. “Tell you what.” He pointed to the door and followed Nora out of the office. “Why don’t I get you something to eat, and while you’re feeding your belly, I’ll grab a shower.”
“Are you taking me to school?”
“School bus still doesn’t make the trip out to the top road?”
“I never been on the school bus before. Daddy always takes me, but he can’t no more because he got hurt, and when he can’t, Dallas does.” She shrugged. “Or Uncle Ry or Tabitha. I like it better when Uncle Ry takes me because he’s funny and tells stories. And sometimes he drives really fast.” Her grin faded, little nose scrunched up. “Tabitha doesn’t like to talk. Not even about my bunny.”
“You sure as hell don’t stop talking.” He didn’t realize he’d said the words out loud until Nora giggled.
“Daddy says I was born with words in my mouth.”
“He’s right about that.”
She grinned up at him. “And you said a bad word again.”
“Sorry, kiddo. I’ll try to keep the bad words to a minimum.”
“It’s okay.” She shrugged. “Daddy says lots of bad words when he thinks I can’t hear him. Even the F word.”
“F word?” Cal tried not to laugh.
She nodded and whispered. “Friggen.”
Something warm bloomed in his chest. Something warm with the potential to grow. She was so like Daisy. He followed Nora down the hall. “I’ll take you to school and try to round up Ryland. I’m sure he’s not far.”
His youngest brother was seventeen, so Cal wasn’t too worried, but he supposed if he was in charge now, he needed to at least find out where the kid had spent the night.
The cupboards were well stocked, and his niece had no problem directing him to the box of cereal she liked. He poured out a generous amount, dumped in some milk, and got Nora a glass of orange juice. She set up her bear on the chair beside her and tucked in.
Nora was done by the time he finished up in the shower. After digging through Bent’s closet, Cal found a clean pair of jeans and an old Henley that at one time had been black, but was now a faded, dull gray. It was comfortable, but more importantly, it fit. Cal had a couple of inches on his brother, but Bent was broader through the shoulders. The man was built for ranching, but then all the Bridgestones were.
His niece had chosen her own outfit to wear to school. He tried not to smile as she twirled in front of him. He was pretty sure the pink-and-white-striped tights she’d pulled on underneath a brown-and-greed plaid dress didn’t exactly match, but the combination sure made his niece happy. Blue cowboy boots rounded out her look, and her long hair was pulled back into two ponytails he’d tried hard to make stick, though the right side drooped and would probably fall out by the time he got her to school. He’d take the win for managing to drag a brush through the curls, while she’d continued talking and waving her hands and moving so much, he was sure she had ants in her pants.
While she was grabbing her coat and the lunch box from the fridge (courtesy of Rose), he scooped up his phone from the office, now fully charged. He scrolled through a bunch of messages he had no intention of answering until later and read a few that caught his attention. Ivy had responded to his message from the day before.
Ivy:Glad Bent’s going to be okay and out of the woods. Don’t worry about the last date in Australia. I’ve already rescheduled for January. I’ve also got a press release slated for later today, your publicist is in the loop, and the band and crew know as well. I decided to take a few days off. I’ll contact you when I’m back.
Huh. No one deserved a vacation more than Ivy, but her timing couldn’t be worse. He thought of the list of things he needed done, things up until this moment he’d assumed she’d do for him, and let out a soft sigh. When the hell had he become that guy? The one who expected shit to get done without lending a hand? It was easy to do, considering most people who circled his planet were nothing but ass-kissers who did more for him than they should. “No” wasn’t a word he heard from anyone anymore. Hell, the only person on the planet who’d take the time to tell him when he was being an asshole was Ivy.
And Millie.
Clearing her from his mind as quick as she’d come, Cal continued scrolling. Ryland hadn’t replied to his text messages the day before. He sent the kid another one, but it showed undelivered, and he realized his brother’s cell was either dead or turned off. With a frown, Cal sent Mike Paul a message, asking him to call when he could.
“I’m ready.” Nora stomped her foot impatiently.
Cal gave her a once-over, eyes on her boots. “You sure those boots are good?”
“Uh-huh,” she replied with a big smile. “They’re my favorite, and Daddy lets me wear them to school every single day.”
Figuring they must be lined, Cal shoved his cell into his back pocket, and they headed outside. The sun was bright and the air crisp as he shepherded the little girl to his truck. The long driveway had been plowed sometime in the night. He was about to hop in the vehicle when he noticed a man heading his way. Bundled up in a thick sheepskin coat overtop lined coveralls, he was a monster in size, shoulders as wide as his legs were long. Dark curly hair peeked out from underneath a thick wool hat, while his strong jawline was covered in an impressive beard. Dallas Henhawk, their foreman. A few years older than Bent. They’d all grown up on the ranch, with generations before doing the same. He was part of the family, and Cal was happy to see him. His face broke out in a wide grin.
“Long time,” Dal said with a slow nod, his steel-blue eyes settling on Cal. As always, Dallas was a man of few words.
