by Lila Kane
“My ball,” Morgan said, eyes brimming. “It went over the fence. What if there’s a dog there and he eats it? What if—”
“There’s not a dog,” he said automatically.
“How do you know?”
Cole grinned and scooped her up. “Okay, I don’t know. But he can’t eat that ball. It’s way too big. Come on.”
“Are you going to climb the fence?”
He tugged one of her blond braids. They were uneven and barely staying in their barrettes, but he’d done the best he could. Doing hair wasn’t one of his fortes.
“No, we’re going to go over there and get it.”
Cole carried her out the front door. The sun already burned mid-way in the sky, promising a hot afternoon. They were used to the heat, but there was definitely more humidity in Garden Creek. When he had the chance, and any hope of finding a Wal-Mart or something similar, he’d pick up one of those little kiddie pools for Morgan—and maybe himself—to cool off in.
He eyed the fence on the side of the house. There was a gate, just like the one he had. Did neighbors do that around here? Just go into each other’s backyards to get their daughter’s balls?
He walked past and opted for the front door. Didn’t want to make any enemies. This wasn’t a rental he had here, it was permanent.
Cole set Morgan down. “You want to ring the bell?”
She automatically ducked behind his legs, holding on tight.
“It’s okay. I’m right here. It’s nice to make friends.”
She balked, so he reached out and pressed the button, taking it in stride. It was his ex that had caused this. Her temper, mood swings, her inconsistencies. All of it had made Morgan retreat further and further into her shell.
He listened for voices or the sound of footsteps while Morgan peered around his legs. The house looked a lot like his own. Same shape and size, same simple cement slab for the front porch, though there were colorful metal chairs on this one. Four different colors. He could see drapes and blinds in the windows, something else he’d have to take care of eventually, and the screen door sported a sign that said, Solicitors Welcome!
He chuckled. Didn’t see a lot of that in the city.
“Daddy,” Morgan said, peering up at him. “We have to get my ball. It’s looonely over there. Daddy—”
“I know.” He pressed the doorbell again but figured they still wouldn’t get an answer. It was almost noon. Whoever lived here was probably at work or out getting lunch.
Damn. He’d have to find something to distract Morgan from her ball. He backed up, eyeing the side fence, then decided against it. He’d wait and drop by later.
“How about we leave the ball there to surprise the neighbor?” Cole asked, putting optimism into his tone. He hurried on before Morgan could say anything. “Then when they get home, we could come by and say hi and see if they’ll let us go into their backyard.”
“You think they have a tree house?”
“I don’t know. We could ask.”
Morgan reached up to take his hand. “But…”
“I could really use some cereal.”
Her mouth moved into a small pout, but she straightened it out. “Me too. I’m dying of hunger!”
And it was a good thing she wanted cereal because that was all he had. He didn’t even have milk. But he let her pour some into a paper cup and bring it out to the front porch while he grabbed another box from the van.
“This is the last one for now,” Cole told her. “Then we’ll go hunting.”
Mouth full of Cheerios, she asked, “Hunting for what?”
“Lunch.”
She followed him inside and watched as he set the box in the living room. It held a pile of sheets he could use for her bed tonight. Good enough. And unless he came across a store that happened to have a queen-sized bed and mattress, he was sleeping on the cot tonight.
Could be worse. Deirdre could be here. Then he’d probably have a bed, but he’d have no idea what the middle of the night would bring. If she’d come home high or wasted.
No, he’d trade a thousand nights on a cot—or the floor—for peace of mind. For consistency.
A far cry from the life he used to lead before Morgan was born. But things changed. He’d changed, and it was all because of Morgan.
He couldn’t imagine his life without her.
“Lunch hunt?” Morgan asked hopefully.
He ruffled her hair. “Yes. A giant cheeseburger with fries.”
“And a milkshake!”
He grinned and pulled out his keys. “Let’s see what we can do.”
Cole locked the front door and stood on the porch for a long moment. This was their house. Their new beginning.
Morgan tugged on his hand. “I’m hungry!”
“Let’s go.”
Chapter 2
“The newcomers stopped in an hour ago for lunch,” Cass said as she squirted ketchup next to her fries.
Tori watched the pile of ketchup grow and grow before Cass finally capped the bottle and grinned at her.
“I like ketchup,” Cass said.
Of course, Tori knew this about her like she knew everything about Cassidy Winters. They’d been friendly in elementary school, but when Cass didn’t judge her for her little psychic episode in seventh grade, Tori knew she’d found a friend for life. Most of the town was accepting of the unusual way of the Birch family, but few knew the truth behind it all.
Cass was not only her friend, she was her confidante.
“You mean my neighbors, right?” Tori asked. “The newcomers?”
“Only ones I know of that are new to town.”
“A guy and his daughter?”
Cass nodded, cutting her burger in half. “I stopped in to say hi, welcome them to town, let them know Charlie’s has the best burgers—which they were already having, so it wasn’t necessary.”
“They got here this morning.”
“Figured. You have another dream?”
Cass didn’t bother to keep her voice down, but Cass rarely bothered to keep her voice down. As deputy, she was friendly with most everyone and would talk your ear off if you’d let her. Usually Tori let her. Cass’s life was much more interesting than Tori’s. Tori’s goal was to stay friendly, but not involved. Cass’s goal was to involve herself in everything. And in everyone’s business.
“Same one,” Tori admitted. “Good thing I made that lasagna ahead of time.”
Cass smirked. She wore her uniform, but her hair was loose, waving around her shoulders. She didn’t look like the law. She looked like she belonged on the cover of some beauty magazine, with her flawless skin and shiny hair. But she’d never been interested in any of that. No makeup, no fancy hairstyles. No, that was all Tori.
Tori had wanted to be her friend when she was younger. She wanted to be someone different. Anyone but the daughter of Eleanor Birch, the woman who had killed herself because of some vision—the wrong vision. She’d thought she’d been doing the right thing, but it had torn Tori’s family apart.
After that, Tori had had a hard time embracing her gift. But Grams had taught her how to accept who she was and she’d finally grown out of that awkward phase of wanting to be anyone—and anywhere—but who and where she was.
“He was hot,” Cass said. “Why didn’t you tell me he was super hot?”
Cass scanned the restaurant as she ate, always on the lookout for disorder, anything out of the ordinary. Not much of that happened in Garden Creek. Every once in a while someone got drunk and ran their car into a pole, but nothing huge.
“Your neighbor,” Cass prompted.
“Was he?”
“What’s up with you? You seem distracted.”
The same thing her grams had said. “Nothing. Restless, I guess.” True enough. Those dreams had gotten to her more than she’d expected. Usually when she had a dream more than once, it meant something. She’d dreamt about the moving van and her neighbor four times. What did that mean?
&n
bsp; “His daughter was the cutest little thing. Morgan. I told her she could come down to the station and see what cops do all day, and you’d think I’d given her a bag of lollipops. Told her dad he could come down to the station, too. Maybe play around with the handcuffs—”
Tori choked on a French fry. “Cass.”
Her friend grinned. “Just making sure you were listening.” She glanced over when the door opened. Her eyes narrowed. “Shit. Look what the cat dragged in.”
Tori knew who it was before she looked up. He was part of the reason she’d gone out for lunch today instead of stayed in. Brooks Colton.
He caught her eye and walked to the stool at the bar, one directly across from their booth. “Hey, Tori,” he said, swiveling around to give her a smile with perfectly straight, white teeth.
“Hi, Brooks.”
“You’re not easy to track down.”
“Why were you trying to track her down?” Cass asked, leaning back in her seat. “Tea emergency?”
Brooks’ gaze flicked to her, a scowl on his lips, before he smiled again and shrugged. “Just wanted to say hi. See what you were up to this weekend.”
“We were planning on wading down in the creek, try to catch some catfish,” Cass said easily. “Want to come?”
His jaw flexed, and Tori could tell it took everything he had not to snap at her. She was messing with him, and it wasn’t the first time. But he didn’t dare make a scene. Not when it would make him look bad. And not in front of a deputy.
“Heading into the city for a nice dinner sounds better,” Brooks said to Tori. He purposefully kept his gaze from Cass. “What do you think?”
Because he didn’t give up, and because she was irritated with him for bothering her grams this morning, she said, “I was really looking forward to the catfish thing.”
Someone snickered from the next table over. Brooks’ neck turned red.
Cassidy’s phone rang and she pulled it from her jacket pocket. “’Lo? Winters here.”
Tori pretended Brooks wasn’t still staring at her while she ate the rest of her chicken sandwich. He finally turned around and ordered a coffee, which made the waitress frown.
“It’s in the file. No, not that…” Cass rubbed her hand over her eyes and sighed. “Yeah, I’ll sort it out when I get there.”
She hung up and stuffed her phone into her pocket again.
“Paperwork crisis?” Tori asked.
Cass ate a large bite of her burger with a nod. “They can’t function over there without me.”
“You need to go?”
She considered this, then washed her bite down with her soda. “Let them sweat for ten minutes. I’ve shown Bree how to fill out those forms six times, I swear. I’m pretty sure she’s ignoring me. And her mama’s been by at least a dozen times to see how things are going. Molly was fine, she knew what she was doing. She had a system. Her daughter is…” Cass’s eyes shifted to take in the diner again. “Something else.”
Tori chuckled. She didn’t need to be psychic to predict that. Bree had always been flighty. One time the town had put her in charge of coordinating the Fourth of July floats and her lack of organization had caused a major roadblock on Duncan Road for an hour in the middle of the day.
They finished their meal, paid, and stepped outside to the sunshine. When Brooks left a moment later, Cass gave her a meaningful look. “You want me to tell him to get lost?”
Tori shook her head and started walking with Cass to her car, hoping Brooks would go the other way. But he caught up, calling her name.
“Don’t let him give you any shit,” Cass told her.
Tori nudged her toward her car. “Yes, Deputy.”
Cass grinned at her and hopped into her car. Brooks watched her drive away, then pocketed his hands, letting his shoulders relax.
“You don’t really go catfishing, do you?”
Part of her wanted to continue the ruse, but she felt bad for lying to him, so she shook her head. “No, Cass was joking.”
“Figured.” He frowned. “So, dinner, then?”
Tori blew out a slow breath, deflating her lungs. “Brooks…”
“I know you said you weren’t ready before, but it’s been a few months. I got my Mustang fixed up. We could drive to the city, have dinner. I know this great place—”
“Brooks.” She held up a hand to stop him. “I’m not looking for a relationship. Truly.” And she couldn’t help but try to counter the hurt on his face. “You’re a good guy, but—”
“Then give me a chance.”
Tori squeezed the strap of her purse. She’d always been bad at saying no, even to people like Brooks, who needed a good, firm answer to get them to understand.
“Like I said, I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I’m sorry. Really. But this isn’t going to work.”
She turned on her heel and walked in the opposite direction, heading straight toward Reverie. She forced herself not to look back. He had to get the message this time. She’d made it clear, hadn’t she?
Of course, she’d thought she’d made it clear all the other times, too.
Tori returned to the tea shop and said nothing to her grams about Brooks, even though she could feel her grandmother’s eyes on her in scrutiny. She didn’t need anyone to fight her battles—she was a grown-up. Grams, and even Cassidy, always thought they needed to take care of her, but she was doing just fine on her own.
“I’m hungry!”
Cole pressed his fingertips to his temples as he took a break and sat on Morgan’s bed. Morgan had been saying the same thing for the last two hours. She’d barely eaten anything at lunch, saying she was full, and then ten minutes later she was hungry again. Some days she ate like a horse and others he wondered how she sustained herself.
How come no one had ever told him kids were so fickle? Maybe it was because he’d never wanted to have kids in the first place. He’d thought Deirdre had been on birth control. Or maybe she had and it had been a legitimate accident. But she’d conveniently found out she was pregnant after he tried to break it off with her.
He hadn’t been able to walk away. He could have. Hell, she’d been cheating on him. She might not have even been able to prove Morgan was his. But that sense of responsibility kicked in—the one his mom had been trying to instill in him since he was a kid. Finally, at twenty-five, he had something other than work to be responsible for. So he’d stuck it out with Deirdre. And by the time Morgan had come along, he was committed. And in love with his daughter.
Unfortunately, Deirdre hadn’t been, and suddenly all the responsibility was on him.
He sighed and stood, his back cracking. Fuck. He felt old. Moving would do that to you. Kids would do that to you.
He cared less about food right now than a hot shower, even though his stomach had started grumbling, too.
“Food, food, food!” Morgan ran into the room, carrying a jump rope they’d bought at the store next to the diner. She’d spent more time dragging it on the ground and pretending she was walking the dog than jump roping, but he didn’t care. She was entertaining herself, and that was exactly what he’d needed this afternoon.
It had taken longer than he expected to put the bed together, but now Morgan had somewhere to sleep tonight.
“Cooper wants Cheerios,” she said.
“Hmm?”
“Cooper. He loves Cheerios.”
Cole tossed the sheet over the bed and tucked it under the mattress. “Who’s Cooper?”
“My dog. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy—”
“Yes, Morgan?”
“Cooper wants Cheerios. He wants Cheerios. Daddy—”
“Okay, okay.” He took a slow breath, held it for a few seconds while she stared at him with wide eyes, then let it out. He’d forgotten about the stuffed dog they’d gotten on the drive here. “One thing at a time. Dogs don’t eat Cheerios. He eats dog food.”
She started to say something, but he cut her off. “After they do their chores. Dogs eat
after they do their chores.”
“Doggy chores?” She grinned. “You’re gonna make him clean the bathroom?”
Cole blew out a breath of laughter. “I wish. No, we need to finish the bed.”
She frowned. “Dogs can’t make beds.”
He turned to find a pillowcase and pointed to a blanket he’d tossed in the corner of the room. “No, you make his bed so he has somewhere to sleep tonight, and I’ll finish your bed so we’re not all sleeping on the floor.”
Morgan happily got to work wadding the blanket up and setting it at the foot of her bed. Then she adjusted it, sat on it, and tried to flatten it out as much as possible. It gave him enough time to stuff her pillow in the case and pull up the comforter.
He showed her how to screw a lightbulb into the lamp he’d set on a box by her bed, tucking the cord neatly behind the mattresses. “It’ll do.”
“It’ll do,” Morgan agreed. “Cheerios!”
When the doorbell rang, Cole shoved a hand through his hair. Again? The last time it’d been his neighbor from across the street. A nice old lady with a steaming dish of tuna casserole Morgan deemed unfit for even a dog.
“More tuna?” Morgan asked. “That’s fish, you know. You said it’s fish and—”
“Okay.” He blew out another breath, burying a curse. A break, that’s what they needed, or he was seriously going to lose it. What made him think he could move everything, get Morgan situated, and start work again all in the same week? “Let’s get the door.”
She followed along behind him until they reached the door, then tucked herself behind his legs in her usual position. He spotted a head of hair through the front window and pulled it open.
“Hi, I’m Natalie from a few doors down.” She grinned, lips coated in a pink nearly bright enough to fit into the neon category. “Saw we had a new neighbor and thought I’d bake you something. It’s a Bundt cake.”
She passed over a plate topped with chocolate colored cake dripping with icing. His stomach grumbled. At least it looked better than the tuna casserole. Smelled better, too.