by Nia Arthurs
Dad had resolve.
Something I’d never seen in him before.
A purpose.
He found a purpose in Glory.
Mom’s voice burns with heat. “He’s planning to take her away from you.”
“Never.” I fist my hands.
“You don’t want such a thing to happen and neither do I, so let’s work together. We’re on the same side. We can keep him on a leash.”
I laugh bitterly. “Do you think I’ll fall for that, mom?”
Her eyes widen.
“If we’re on the same side,” I lean forward, my eyes as sharp as my voice, “why are you threatening me?”
“When did I ever—?”
“You showed up in front of my daughter.” I spit out the words, my entire body burning with anger. “You could have just called me, but you made it a point to drive all the way down here to pop up where we’d least expect it. You want to prove that you have access to her any minute of any day.”
Her eyebrows knit. “Heath, that’s not—”
“I didn’t think you’d stoop this low, mom. My daughter’s health and safety is not a weapon for you to manipulate me. If you dare to drag Glory into this mess between you and dad, I won’t sit still. And I won’t be as nice as Kastle when I destroy everything.” I reach for the door handle. “Remember that.”
I start to get out of the car.
“I wanted to see you,” Mom croaks.
I freeze. Turn back around.
Mom’s head is low. Her chin hits her chest. Short strands of hair fall across her cheeks.
“That’s why I came, Heath.” She glances up and there are tears in her eyes.
For a second, I almost believe her.
Almost.
But mom is a master puppeteer.
She’ll use anything to get her way.
I just didn’t expect her to be so good at the act.
“I don’t believe you,” I whisper.
She sobs. “Heath…”
“If you want dad on a leash, do it yourself. Unlike you, I don’t treat people like pets.” I climb out of the car and put my hand on the door. “Get back safe, mom.”
I march back into the ice cream parlor. The deep engine of mom’s SUV rumbles behind me. It gets quieter and quieter as mom leaves.
Though she’s gone, the tension in my shoulders winds tighter and tighter.
Until I see them.
Glory and Brenna.
They’re sitting in the booth all the way at the back, facing the only side of the street where mom’s car and bodyguards wouldn’t be visible.
Brenna did that on purpose.
My eyes lock on her.
She offers a small, understanding smile.
My heart lurches in a different way. It feels good to have backup. To have someone outside of Mercy and Kastle looking out for me.
I like that it’s her.
That it’s Brenna.
Why am I so drawn to this woman when we’re on opposite sides of a fight? And why am I finding it harder and harder to care?
I stride toward them, trying to appear lighthearted even though it’s the opposite of what I feel. “Did you save me some ice cream?”
“Daddy!” Glory scoots over. “We ordered for you but…” She shows me a puddle of milk. “It melted.”
“Bummer.”
“We also ate some of it.” Glory’s eyes slide to Brenna as she giggles. “Sorry, daddy.”
“Really? You ate my ice cream?” I arch an eyebrow at her.
“You snooze you lose, Jameson.” Brenna reaches for her purse.
My eyes snag on the movement. “Going somewhere?”
“I should get back to the library.”
Glory’s smile drops in an instant. “Do you have to?”
“Yeah, kiddo.” Brenna’s grin is strained. “I have to get back to work.”
I fold my arms over my chest, feeling the distance that’s suddenly between us. “You like things simple.”
“No distractions.” She maintains eye contact. “The ice cream was good while it lasted though.”
Disappointment swells in my chest. “That’s good.”
“Bye, Miss B.” Glory waves sticky hands.
“Bye, sweetie.”
“You’re still coming to my party, right?”
“I promised.” Brenna waves. “And I always keep my promises.”
Glory perks up a little.
Jumping to my feet, I gesture to Brenna. “Hey, at least let us drive you back.”
“It’s fine.” She holds up a hand. “Really, it’s—I’m okay.”
The rejection stings.
Distance.
She’s building a damn wall between us.
And I get it.
I do.
I probably should give her some space too. It’s the logical choice.
Except, I can’t.
After that meeting with mom, I’m finding it hard to engage in pretense. It only makes me feel constrained.
I glance at Brenna.
At the sunshine that turns her eyes to a lighter brown. Honey. Amber.
To the full lips getting a nervous swipe from her tongue.
At the eyes that hold so many mysteries waiting to be unraveled.
There’s something here. Something special. And the fact that she wants to save the farmhouse and I want to tear it down doesn’t change that.
“Brenna…” I take a step.
“Stay there.” She blinks rapidly, her eyes on the ground. “Stay there, Heath. Don’t come to me.”
Despair pours through my veins, but I force myself to stand there and watch her walk away.
Fourteen
Brenna
Restlessness chases me around for the next few days.
It peers over my shoulder when I’m in the dim basements of forgotten libraries.
It breathes down my neck as I peruse newspaper clippings from the eighteen hundreds.
It simpers behind me when I visit the farmhouse, write my notes, tag them in my laptop and create my case for the historical landmark committee.
I can’t escape the unease.
It feels like my skin is crawling. Like every inch of me needs to be turned inside out, tossed into the washing machine and air dried.
I found my daddy a wife.
Glory’s innocent little voice had been so sure. So steady.
I thought it didn’t matter.
I told myself to be happy. ‘Good for them’.
Great.
But every time I close my eyes, I imagine Heath getting set up at Glory’s birthday party. I imagine him falling for some pretty blonde or brunette or redhead. A woman with a svelte body. Long, tapering legs. Skin like unblemished alabaster.
I imagine him laughing with her. Teasing her. Putting ladybug band-aids on her.
My heart burns like someone took a cattle brand to it.
I grit my teeth and slap my hand against the knob to turn my shower off. Every freaking night, I think about them.
The father and the daughter.
Every moment I spent in their company burns through my veins, every smile, every laugh—it clings to me.
It’s here even now.
And I can’t scrub it off.
I can’t—
Stepping out of the shower, I try to ignore the unease. My hair falls limply to my back, leaking water all over the floor.
I should put my hair in a towel.
I should clean those puddles up before I slip in one.
Instead, I hunch over the sink and struggle to get back to the Brenna I was before I met Heath and Glory.
The farmhouse is important. What I’m doing is important. I can’t let two strangers distract me.
But are they strangers?
Glory put her little fingers on my heart and left her prints all over them.
And Heath…
I found my daddy a wife.
My phone stares at me from the sink.
I pi
cture Heath’s olive eyes. The thick brows slashed down in concern. The brawny arms reaching out to me. The calloused fingers sliding over my bruised skin. Putting me back together. Chasing the loneliness with his warmth.
“You okay?”
Yes.
No.
The quiet echoes around me.
Research has always been my escape.
Silence has always been my friend.
I’m okay with the loneliness. For the most part. Sometimes I crave companionship, but it’s not like I’m incomplete on my own.
Relationships are messy and a relationship with Heath would be the definition of complicated. I like to keep my life simple and yet…
Even if we’re on two separate sides of the historic landmark investigation, even if he’s too cocky for his own good, Heath has taken over my mind. There’s more to him than just a ‘jerk contractor’.
Maybe I can let him closer.
Just a little.
I swipe up my phone.
ME: I’m going gift-shopping for Glory’s party tomorrow. Any ideas?
I walk into my bedroom and toss the phone on the mattress. Trying to play it cool, I force myself not to stare at it and start finger-detangling my hair while listening to music. The task normally calms me, but my shoulders are tense as I wait.
My phone chirps.
I nearly levitate off the bed in fright. Snatching the phone, I stare at the message popping up on screen.
HEATH: How about I provide those ideas in person?
Just like that my heart bucks.
We agree on a time and place to meet up and I try to pretend this is totally normal.
Totally.
It’s like running an errand with a friend.
Or an enemy.
Or…
Whatever.
It’s not a date is what I tell myself the next morning while I tear through my closet looking for the perfect outfit.
It’s not a date is what I murmur while nervously checking the clock once I get to the library.
As the day goes on, I become engrossed in my work. The shadows deepen around me. The comfortable silence drags me into a world that I’ve always been fascinated by.
Then there’s a knock on the desk.
Knuckles rapping against wood.
I glance up.
The soft light brushes Heath’s face in a golden hue. His long hair deepens to the the color of wheat, and his normally vibrant green eyes darken in the shadows.
My breath hitches. “Heath.”
“Hey,” he whispers.
That deep timber in such a husky tone makes a shiver of delight snake down my spine. “H-hey. I didn’t even hear you come in.”
He tilts his head and his hair slides over his shoulders. “I’m not surprised. You looked so engrossed.”
Heath flattens his hands against the desk. Brawny arms strain against a black T-shirt.
I nod, my fingers shaking so badly I have to pull them into my lap.
“Finding any evidence?” He glances at the books.
“Are you asking as the general contractor or a…?”
“Or a what?” He leans a little closer over the desk, eyes falling heavy on me.
I inch back, awareness making my breath short. “Nothing.”
“Don’t do that, Brenna.” His voice drops an octave. “I pegged you as someone honest.”
“There’s a line.”
“Where is it?” He eases further over the desk. His elbows slide against the shiny varnish. His broad chest is so wide it completely fills my vision.
Heat floods my body. “It’s there.” I lick my lips. “You just don’t want to see it.”
His eyes fasten on my tongue. “And maybe you’re looking too hard for it.”
“I doubt that. We’re on opposite sides of that line, Heath.”
“Even so,” he whispers, his minty breath brushing over my mouth, “some lines were meant to be crossed.”
A feeling I can’t name builds in me.
It throbs in my chest.
In my heart.
It’s scary.
More terrifying than almost anything I’ve experienced.
But it’s warm too.
Heath studies my face, his gaze as gentle as a caress. “I’m going to cross that line, Brenna.”
It’s a warning.
A promise.
He snaps the book closed. Offers his hand. “Are you ready?”
No.
Hell no.
Not even close.
But I slip my hand into his.
Feel the callouses brush against my fingertips.
Feel my heartbeat jack up at the contact.
And all I can say is… “Yes.”
Fifteen
Heath
There aren’t many moments in my life where I feel completely at peace.
Since the moment I took on the mantle of a father, my life became a constant circle of worry and unease.
There was never a moment to rest. Nothing to hold on to. The responsibility was all on my shoulders and I took it seriously.
I couldn’t mess up Glory’s life with my inexperience. With calloused fingers that trembled over soft, baby skin. With eyes locked on YouTube tutorials explaining how to change diapers. With hours and hours on Google looking up symptoms of the common cold that somehow all suggested my baby was steps away from dying.
Always.
So much fear.
Fear that sickness would steal her breath from her lungs.
Fear that the world would reject her for the color of her skin or the circumstances of her birth.
Fear that I wouldn’t be enough.
I thought it would get better with time. That I would be more comfortable in this skin. That soon, the world wouldn’t faze me, and the future wouldn’t scare me.
But it’s only gotten worse.
Because now Mom’s on the warpath.
And Dad’s trying to reclaim his rights as Glory’s sperm donor.
And I…
I’m struggling to keep my head above water because the project that was supposed to solve all my financial problems is being held up by the beautiful woman standing next to me.
I should be losing my damn mind.
I should be snapping and growling and beating my chest.
But I can’t stop smiling.
And laughing.
And staring.
Brenna’s curls are shinier today. More tightly formed than usual. They glisten and reflect the light in the toy store. Her soft brown skin glows in that white dress. It’s a short, filmy thing. Something I could grab by the hems. Shove to her waist. Something easily discarded.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Brenna asks quietly, her eyes on the ladybug-themed teddy bears in her hand.
There is no answer to that question that will make me look like a gentleman.
I deflect it instead. “Glory has both of those dolls already.”
“Both?” She shakes the box. “Are you kidding? These are new stock.”
“Kastle brought it a few days ago.”
“I’m pretty sure Kastle stalks toy stores in his free time.” She puts the boxes back. Glances at me with that straight-on gaze I’m coming to love. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“The truth?”
“Only if it’s flattering.” She grins. The kind that brightens her eyes. “Yes, the truth.”
I plant my hand on the shelf above her head. Lean in so close I can see the black flecks in her brown eyes. Hip hips trap her against the metal shelving. “I was thinking about you.”
She gulps. Her gaze darts around. “Oh.”
“Yes.”
She tries to run, but I slide my arm around her waist and trap her against the shelf.
“I was thinking that you’re beautiful.”
She pulls her lips in shyly. “Heath.”
“That I want you out of that dress.”
Her teeth snag on her bottom lip. �
�Does that work on all the girls?”
“What other girls?”
“Sweet-talker.”
I slide my finger over her cheek and tuck one of her curls behind her ear. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
She licks her lips. “We should keep looking.”
“I am.” I stare at her.
Her fingers rise to touch one of her curls and I know if she were fair-skinned, she’d be blushing.
My lips quirk and I cut her some slack. “Why don’t you get Glory some books? That’s how you two connected in the first place.”
“I ordered a few story books online, but they won’t reach in time.” She walks ahead of me. “I really wanted to give her a gift on her birthday.”
“You could have called Kastle or Kaelyn to come with you.”
“But who knows her better than her dad?” Brenna arches an eyebrow.
“True.”
She reaches for another doll. “Glory’s a special little girl. I just assumed…” She puts the box back. “She’s someone who has everything she wants and, with a dad like you, she has everything she needs. I wasn’t sure I could find something on my own.”
With a dad like you, she has everything she needs.
The words drop into my soul like a balm.
Like ointment for an open, scalding wound.
Emotions choke my throat.
Brenna keeps walking but stops when she realizes I’m not behind her. She glances back. “Heath?” Her eyebrows crinkle and then they smooth out as her eyes soften. She returns to me, her steps strong and sure and her eyes locked on mine. “I meant that.”
“I know.” I clear my throat to keep the emotions from sounding in my voice. “That’s why it hit different.”
She smiles softly.
I swear my heart melts like ice cream on a grill.
One minute it’s whole.
The next, it’s a puddle.
I know this feeling.
Felt it only once before in my life.
The day I held Glory in my arms.
I looked into her little face and all these protective instincts roared to life in me. In that moment, I knew that I would spend the rest of my life taking care of her. That I would protect her. That I would die for her.
And I’m starting to feel that way again.
“Brenna—”
“I’ll go with this one.” She lifts the box like a shield, planting it in front of her face. “We can go check out.”