by Erika Kelly
“What if we have your friends over on Sunday?” Coco said. “We can make cupcakes and put the tattoos on ourselves.”
“If I go to school are you going to Bear Mountain without me?”
He got a kick out of watching this little girl work through the possibilities.
“Yes. My friend is only here for a day, so I want to make sure he gets to do something fun.”
“I want to go to Bear Mountain. And I want a milkshake.” Posie looked torn, worrying her bottom lip. “But I promised my friends.”
“School doesn’t start for two more hours, so we have time to send them an email and let them know you’re not coming to school, but that you’ll give them the tattoos on Sunday. That way, you’ll be keeping your promise.” Coco got up. “Did you eat breakfast at Grandma’s?”
“No. How could I eat? I’m too upset. You made me very mad, Mommy. You should have told me first. You made the whole decision without me, and it’s a very important day.”
“You’re absolutely right. I definitely should’ve asked you first.” Coco brushed her fingers through Posie’s long hair. “I thought my friend was leaving yesterday, but he surprised me this morning at the chocolate shop and told me he was staying a little longer.” She moved to a cupboard and pulled out a plastic cup. “I’m going to make breakfast. Let me know when you make a decision.”
“I want to go with you.”
“Oh, good. I’m so glad. So, are we having your friends over on Sunday?”
“Yes. I want to make cupcakes.”
“Awesome. I love it. Okay, let me go email everyone right now.” She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a jug of milk. “Toadstools or oatmeal?”
“Mommy, fairies don’t eat toads.” Her tone said, Duh.
“Oatmeal it is.”
“But only if you put fairy sprinkles on it.”
“You got it.” Coco pulled out a pan and filled it with water. “Beckett, did you eat? Do you want some oatmeal?”
“I mean, are there enough fairy sprinkles for me?” he asked.
Coco threw open a spice cabinet. The top shelf was stocked with sprinkles in all colors—pastels, green and red, pink, red and white, bright orange and black. “I think we’re good well into the apocalypse.”
“Then, I’d love some. Anything I can do to help?” He started to slide out of the booth, but Posie climbed up next to him.
“My grandma did my nails last night. Look. They’re sparkly. Fairies have sparkles everywhere.”
“I see. Very pretty.”
“She won’t let me take the polish home ‘cause she says that’s special stuff for us to do when I’ve over there.” She twisted around. “Mommy, can I have some milk?”
“Sure, hon.” Coco poured some into a plastic cup and set it on the table.
“Thank you.” She used both hands to grasp it and bring it to her mouth.
Back at the stove, Coco lowered the flame under her pot. “While this is simmering, I’ll send those emails. Be right back.” She glanced at him, as though checking to see if he minded being alone with Posie.
He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but he doubted he could hide his discomfort.
Because what the hell did he do with a five-year-old?
Chapter Six
“How come you’re here?” Posie asked him.
Because I found out you’re my daughter. “I’m visiting friends.”
As she gazed up at him with icy blue eyes identical to his, he noticed she had a tiny little scar the color of the moon on her cheek. How did she get that? Did she need stitches?
He wanted to know.
I want to know every moment I missed.
“Where’s your house?” she asked.
“In Colorado.”
“Is it pretty?”
“Not as pretty as yours, but it’s in the mountains. That’s why I bought it. For the location.” Jesus, she’s not an adult who understands the real estate market.
She finished off her milk and then licked her lips. “Do you have a doggy? I want one, but Mommy says I can’t. She says we’re not home enough to give a doggy lots of love. Do you have a doggy?”
“I don’t have one, but my neighbor does.” That’s a weird answer. Who cares if my neighbor has a dog?
She asked if I have one.
“Where is he? Can I see? I want to play with your doggy.”
“He’s in Colorado right now. But, like I said, he’s not mine. He’s my neighbor’s.”
“You get to play with him?”
“When I’m home, he pretty much lives with me.”
“Because you gots good treats?”
Because my elderly neighbor’s health is failing, and I suspect there are many days when he doesn’t get fed. “I do, yeah. I keep treats for him.”
“I want to play with him.”
“Maybe one day. But he’s in Colorado right now.”
“Do we have time to go to Callrado before we get my milkshake?”
“No. Colorado’s another state. It’s…well, here.” He grabbed a napkin from the basket and a crayon from the plastic cup. “So, we’re in Wyoming.” He drew a line going east then straight down south. “And this is Colorado. It’s about an eight-hour drive in the car.”
“Eight hours? How long is that?”
“That’s how long you sleep at night.”
Her eyes went wide. “You live far away. My grandma and grandpa has doggies. You can come see them. They don’t like to play with me, because they’re old, and I’m too much for them. I’m hungry.” She got up on her knees and reached for a banana in the fruit basket. “I want peanut butter.”
“Okay.”
When she scampered out of the booth and just stood there watching him, he realized she expected him to get it. “Oh.” He slid out and found the peanut butter in the refrigerator. “How do we do this?” At home, he’d stick a knife in the jar and smear it right on top of the banana.
He found a plate in a cabinet and a knife in a drawer and brought them to the table. “Now what?”
“Put it on the banana.” Her tone held an eye roll.
“Obviously.” He peeled off the skin and then set it on the plate.
She recoiled, waving a hand at the naked banana. “You have to get that stuff off.”
“What stuff?”
“That yucky, stringy stuff.”
“Oh, that. Want to know something? It’s called a phloem bundle.” With the tip of the knife, he lifted it, and then used his fingers to strip it off.
“A what?”
“A phloem bundle.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s how the nutrients are distributed throughout the banana. You know how our veins deliver blood throughout our body?”
“No.”
“Well, the phloem bundles deliver nutrients to the banana.”
“I’m not eating flow bundles.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, that does sound unappealing. Okay, let’s get ‘em off.” After removing one more, he stabbed the knife into the peanut butter. Just as he started to smear some onto the banana, she pushed his arm.
“No. I’m not eating that.”
What? “You don’t want the banana?” What the hell was he missing? “You said you wanted peanut butter on a banana.”
“I don’t want that.” Her voice rose. “I’m not eating it.”
“Hang on. Instead of getting upset, just tell me the problem.”
“I’m not eating flow bundles.”
“I took them off.”
She pointed at the banana like there was a spider on it.
Rolling it around, he found a tiny string on it and burst out laughing…until he saw her flushed cheeks and realized she was genuinely upset. It really was like a spider to her. He quickly removed the string. “Okay?”
She examined the banana and pointed at one more string.
This girl was hilarious. He peeled it off. “Now are we good?”
She nodded, lookin
g as though she’d suffered through a trying time.
“So, now what, Your Highness?”
She tapped the handle of the knife. “Put the peanut butter on.”
“This is how I do it.” He swiped the top of the banana with the peanut butter and bit it off.
“Hey, that’s my banana.” She reached for it.
“How does your mom do it?”
“She makes it pretty for me. Fairies eat pretty food.”
“Ah, gotcha. Okay, let’s see what I can do.” He sliced the banana into thin chunks. Then, he cut out triangles so that each piece looked like a star. Then, he carefully put a dot of peanut butter in the center of each one. “Hang on. Let me get the sprinkles.” He found the container and shook it out over the food.
Clapping her hands over her mouth, her eyes went wide. “That’s the prettiest fairy food ever.” She pulled the plate in front of her. “Thank you, Beckett.”
“You’re welcome.” He felt ridiculously happy he’d done a good job for her.
“Does your doggie eat peanut butter? Marcy’s mommy hides doggy pills in peanut butter. Her doggy eats it like this.” With her mouth full of peanut butter and banana, she flicked her tongue out a couple of times.
He laughed. Pointing at the triangles he’d removed, he said, “Can I eat those?”
“Yes, we can share.” She shoved the plate, so it sat squarely between them.
In this cozy kitchen, sitting with a five-year-old, and listening to Coco’s voice on the phone in the living room, Beckett felt strangely comfortable. The refrigerator hummed, Posie’s heels slammed rhythmically against the bench seat, and there he was eating peanut butter and bananas with…his daughter.
It was starting to sink in, and it wasn’t half bad.
Coco came back into the room. “Okay, let’s get rolling with the oatmeal. Do you want a banana in it? Or blueberries?”
“I’m not hungry.” With sticky fingers, Posie dropped off the bench seat. “I’m getting dressed for Bear Mountain.” She ran out of the room.
Coco glanced at the plate of food he’d prepared. “You fed her?”
Oh, hell. “It was just a few pieces of banana.” He’d messed up. “She said she was hungry and gave me step-by-step instructions. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to throw down with my kid on day two.”
She grinned. “Posie’s a grazer. If she eats a few bites of banana, she’s done.”
“Shit. Sorry.”
“Another hot tip. She’ll repeat your words. Not right now, not in the safety of her home, where you can explain why we can say some words and not others, but in the middle of circle time at school.”
“Shit.” He shook his head. “I mean…I’ll do better.”
But he caught her expression—it was fleeting, before she turned away and headed to the stove. But he saw it.
Will it matter, though? Will you even be around to do better?
He didn’t have an answer for that.
And it felt like he had less than twenty-four hours to figure it out.
On a chairlift meant to accommodate two adults comfortably, Posie straddled both their laps, which meant Coco had to sit right up against Beckett’s hard, warm body. A black ball cap shaded his face, the shadows only accentuating the masculine cut of his scruffy jaw, high cheek bones, and ridiculously sensuous mouth.
For a man who’d traveled the world, he seemed awfully impressed by the scenery spread out before them. As they ascended the mountain, the bowl-shape of the valley became clear. The Teton and Gros Ventre Mountain Ranges thrust aggressively from the earth, while patches of green meadow, clusters of houses, and ribbons of silver rivers covered the floor.
“Show me what I’m seeing.” He had a lovely way of talking to Posie as an adult, asking questions that empowered her, and Coco really liked that about him.
“That’s Jackson.” Pointing to the largest sprawl of buildings beneath them, Posie turned toward her. “Right, Mommy?”
“You got it.”
With a more confident expression, Posie pointed farther off to the left. “And that’s Calamity. That’s where I live.”
“And that mountain right there?” he asked. “The closest one? What’s that called?”
“What’s that mountain called, Mommy?”
“Mount Owen. That’s where Grandma and Grandpa take you hiking.”
“Right. Mount Owen. And all the way back there, the big one with the snow on top? That’s the Tetons.”
Beckett cut her a look, clearly impressed. “It’s beautiful here.”
“It really is.” Coco had seen a lot of the world, thanks to family vacations and the trips her mom had sent her on over the years, but there was just no place like Calamity. “And we have a very cool history. Because of its location and brutal climate, it was nearly impossible for people to live here. Starting in the Eighteen-sixties, the government gave out free land, but the settlers couldn’t make a go of it. It’s just too rocky and cold to grow food. And, in the winter, there was only one pass in and out of the valley. Actually, it was called Owl Hoot.”
“I wondered where that name came from,” he said.
“And the only people who’d brave that pass were outlaws.”
“Is Grandpa an outlaw?”
“No, sweetheart. Grandpa played football. Anyhow, they’d lead their stolen horses or cattle in, rebrand them, and then take them out when the weather cleared to sell in Utah. So, this whole area was founded by outlaws.”
“And now the Bowies finally make sense,” he said.
She smiled. “Right? They’re literally descended from outlaws. But everyone who lives here is wild at heart. Someone once said Calamity’s the Western capital of whoop-ass, and I think that nails it. We’re outdoorsy, we think outside the box, we’re fiercely independent, and we don’t like rules.”
“I’m confused,” Beckett said. “You talk about outlaws, but I only see fairies.”
“I’m a fairy outlaw, right, Mommy?”
“That’s right.” Coco held out her hand for a fist bump. “Outlaw fairies.”
The wires creaked, and the chairs rocked. The higher they got up the mountain, the cooler the air, and when she rubbed her arms for warmth, Beckett reached across her shoulders and pulled her in tighter.
The small gesture unearthed a longing—to lean against him, give him some of the weight she carried. It was scary, because she couldn’t afford weakness—not as a single mom. But this moment…this precious, perfect moment, with the three of them connected physically…it gave her a burst of true and perfect happiness.
Her heart said, We’re a family.
How many times had she dreamed of this exact scenario? Well, maybe not this exactly. She hadn’t expected to see Beckett again, but she’d wanted so badly to fall in love with a man who would adopt Posie, treat her like his own daughter.
And now—unbelievably—she had Posie’s actual father sitting with them, and it made her heart soar.
But it was all a lie. She knew that. She couldn’t get carried away with silly fantasies. We’re not a family. All he’d said was that he couldn’t get on a plane knowing he had a daughter. He wasn’t here to take on the role of Posie’s father. He was here to figure things out.
And just like that, happiness turned to anxiety. Because she didn’t know what would happen. Would he leave, go back to his life, and send an annual birthday card with a twenty-dollar bill tucked inside?
Or would he want more? She could see her little girl joining him on his trips, becoming a little daredevil.
Fear wrenched her, and she felt sick. It would kill her if Posie wound up spending half of the year traveling with Beckett and his adventure-seeking fiancée.
Would she have to share holidays?
Stop it. Oh, my God, just stop it right now.
“Mommy.” Posie sat up and lunged forward, causing the chair to rock wildly. “Look.” Her shriek split the peaceful, summer day wide open.
Just as Coco tight
ened her hold, Beckett wrenched Posie right out of her arms and hugged her tightly to him. “Jesus Christ. Don’t do that.”
Posie’s eyes flared with fear, and she looked to her mom to find out if she’d done something wrong. Where Coco’s first instinct was to protect her daughter, she couldn’t miss the terror in Beckett’s eyes.
Even before the chair quit rocking, Beckett seemed to recognize his overreaction, as he loosened his grip and let out a rough exhalation. Posie pulled away from him, pressing her face into Coco’s side.
Heart racing, she soothed her daughter with gentle strokes on her back, while rallying a comforting look for Beckett. “That was scary.” She tapped Posie’s shoulder. “Sweetie, we’re thirty feet off the ground. You know you have to sit still.”
“But I saw a bear.” Her voice sounded muffled. “I was showing you.”
Perspiration beaded on Beckett’s forehead, and he scrubbed a hand over his face. “I thought…” He looked away, popping his ball cap off his head and scraping his hands through his hair. Setting the hat back on, he patted Posie’s shoulder. “Sorry.”
Keeping her forehead pinned to Coco’s shoulder, she swiveled to look at him. “Why’d you do that?”
“I got scared. I thought…” He looked down.
“I wasn’t going to fall.” Posie sounded defensive.
“Yeah, I just…”
“Hey, you scared me, too.” Coco gave her daughter a gentle shake. “You know better than to lean out of a chairlift like that.” Thankfully, they’d reached the summit. She needed to get off this thing. “Come on. Let’s go.” With her daughter still shaken, she handed the tote off to Beckett and lifted Posie into her arms. Under the broad roof of the platform, she stepped off, relieved for the shade.
As they stepped off the pavement and onto the pine needle-strewn ground, Beckett remained quiet. She knew how overwhelming all this was for him, so she wanted to put him at ease. “We love it here. We probably come up once a month or so.”
Posie squirmed. As soon as Coco set her down, she said, “I want my milkshake now.”
Sunlight glinted off the copper drainpipes and windows of the two-story pine lodge. Several yards away sat the bath house, where visitors who’d come only for a soak in the hot springs could change into their swimsuits and then rinse off afterwards.