by Dylann Crush
She held the door open while Gramps and her sisters filed past. “Yes, Uncle Alex.”
“Good. I’ll be back in a minute.” He rounded the front of the truck and practically dove into the driver’s seat. How could he have misplaced a kid? Visions of what his sister would do to him flashed through his head on the short drive home. Char was like a mama bear. Cuddly, easy tempered, and sweet as honey until something bad happened. Then she would rise up, bare her teeth, and rip apart anyone and anything that threatened her family.
As the truck screeched to a stop Alex jammed it into park and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Dolly sat on the front stoop, her head in her hands. The sparkly pink dress was spread out around her.
“Hey, baby girl. You okay?” He sat down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder.
She glanced up, big, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “You left me.”
His heart cracked in two. Like someone pounded a chisel into it and busted it open. “I’m so sorry. Everyone was in the truck. I know you were with us. I counted heads. But when we got to the restaurant, you weren’t there.”
“I had to get my tiara.” She lifted a hand to touch the rim of the plastic crown sitting crooked on her head. “A princess can’t leave home wiffout her crown.”
Alex took in a deep breath, trying to fill his lungs. “You ready to go get some dinner?”
She nodded.
He slid his thumb under her eyes, wiping the tears away. “You scared me, Princess Dolly.”
“I thought grown-ups didn’t get scared.” She gazed up at him with such trust in her eyes, it almost split his heart into quarters.
“Sometimes we do.” He took her hand in his. “Now let’s go get you a giant milkshake.”
“Can I have strawberry?”
“You can have whatever you want.” He lifted her up and set her in the back seat. She settled herself in her booster and he shut the door behind her, his head pounding.
He wasn’t used to being responsible for anyone but himself. Thank God Dolly was okay. Tonight was a reminder that he needed to pay closer attention if he didn’t want to get his ass kicked by taking on new responsibilities.
Ten minutes later he and Dolly joined the rest of the family in a giant corner booth. He wanted a beer, a huge, frothy mug that would ease the tension bunching his shoulders and help him forget how he’d almost lost his niece. But he glanced around the table at his nieces and ordered a sweet tea instead.
While he waited for the waitress to bring them their drinks, his gaze swept around the room. Not much had changed since he sat in this same booth with his gramps and nana all those years ago. He wondered if Gramps remembered. It seemed like the man had turned in on himself when his wife died, lost his will to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe Alex could help him get a little spark of the fire he used to have burning inside him rekindled. For Char’s sake. And the sake of the gaggle of girls that surrounded him in the cracked vinyl booth.
As he tried to come up with a way to cheer up Gramps, a deep, throaty laugh captured his attention. Someone at the bar was having a good chuckle over something. They probably hadn’t burned mac and cheese and abandoned a four-year-old earlier in the evening. As his gaze stopped on the pair at the bar, his breath caught. Granted there weren’t too many places in town to grab a bite to eat, but what the hell was Zina doing here tonight?
“Excuse me for a minute?” Alex scooted out of the booth, leaving Gramps alone with the girls. He could keep an eye on them for a quick minute from across the restaurant.
None of them even looked up. Jordan was on the damn phone. Izzy had covered her paper menu with a kaleidoscope of drawings, Frankie dug through the bag that seemed to be glued at her hip, and Dolly had lined up the sugar packets and was waving her wand over them like she was casting a spell. Gramps cupped his mug of coffee between his hands and stared across the room. They’d be okay for the couple of minutes it would take him to see what Zina was up to.
As he approached, he couldn’t help but notice the guy sitting to Zina’s right. Was she on a date? He almost turned back, but as she leaned over to grab her purse she saw him.
“Hey, what brings you into town tonight?” She straightened and set her purse on her lap.
“Dinner with the family.” He gestured over his shoulder.
“Looks like you brought the whole crew.” Zina glanced toward the table.
“Yep, my plus five.”
She tapped the shoulder of the guy next to her. “Zeb, you remember Alex Sanders, don’t you?”
Zeb turned around, a slightly older-looking version of the football star Alex remembered from high school. “Hey, man.”
Alex clapped him on the back and Zeb shuddered. Zina put a hand on her brother’s arm. “It’s okay.”
Shit. Alex heard Zeb came back with PTSD. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”
“He startles easily,” Zina explained.
“I’m fine.” Zeb shook her off and thrust a hand out to Alex. “How have you been?”
Alex took it. “Great. It’s really good to see you again.”
“You, too. Is that your family over there?” Zeb asked.
Alex released his grip and nudged his chin toward where he’d left Gramps and the girls. “Yeah, my nieces and my grandfather. They don’t get out much.”
Zina laughed. “That explains it.”
“What?”
“Why the little one is mainlining sugar.”
Alex looked over in time to see Dolly sneeze, wipe her nose on her sleeve, and empty several sugar packets into her mouth. He did a double take as his heart seemed to gallop through his chest. “Oh no. I’d better get back. Just saw you over here and thought I’d say hi.”
“Hi.” Zina wiggled her fingers at him.
“See you around.” He left Zina and her brother at the bar and took quick strides back to the table. “Dolly, you can’t eat that.”
She stuck out her lower lip as he swiped the packets from her hand and moved the ceramic container away from her reach.
“She only likes to eat stuff that sparkles,” Jordan said without looking up from her phone.
“Gimme that.” Alex snagged the phone from her hands. She looked up, her eyes wide. He’d lasted almost exactly seventy-two hours before he lost his temper. The entire experience just reinforced the decision he’d made long ago. He wasn’t cut out for the family life. He did best when the only person he had to think about or be responsible for was himself.
Jordan crossed her arms over her chest and clamped down hard. Dolly licked her finger in an attempt to pick up as many sugar granules from the table as she could.
Alex sucked in a breath and tried to come up with something to say. Frankie beat him to it. “Uncle Alex, Shiner wants a snack.”
Shiner . . . he racked his brain trying to remember who the hell Shiner was. A loud squawk came from the bag at Frankie’s side. The bird shook his head as he emerged and climbed up Frankie’s arm.
“What the fuck . . . ,” Alex started.
“What the fuck . . . what the fuck . . . ,” the bird mimicked.
Conversation around them ground to a halt. Even the waitress stopped in her tracks as Shiner Bock climbed onto the table.
“Can he have a salad?” Frankie asked, unaware of the inappropriateness of bringing their pet bird out for a burger.
Before Alex had a chance to react, Shiner Bock bent down to take a drink out of Frankie’s shake. The glass toppled, sending mint chocolate chip liquid all over the drawing Izzy had been working on.
“Shiner Bock, you ruined my picture!” Izzy tossed a purple crayon at the bird, who flapped his wings and strutted across the table.
“Gramps, a little help here?” Alex muttered under his breath. He pulled a handful of napkins out of the dispenser in an attempt to sop up some of the s
hake currently dripping off the edge of the table. Besides Izzy’s cries, the restaurant was quiet, too damn quiet.
“Let me help.” Zina appeared on his right with a towel she must have snagged from behind the bar.
“Jordan, can you grab the bird?” Alex asked.
“No way, he bites.”
“He just doesn’t like you because you tease him.” Izzy flung a packet of sugar at her sister.
Dolly screeched. “You’re taking my sparkles.”
“I’m so sorry.” Alex turned to Zina, who’d wiped up the sticky mint-green liquid and now held Izzy’s drawing in her hand.
“It’s okay. Why don’t you get the bird out of here before the health department gets word of this?” She nudged her chin toward where Shiner Bock had managed to make it to the booth behind them and stood nibbling at a french fry on a woman’s plate.
“Frankie. Grab the bird,” Alex said.
“I can’t get out.” She slapped her palms on the table, where she sat sandwiched between her sisters.
Alex leaned over, put his hands under her arms, and then lifted her up and over the table. “Get him quick, okay?”
She nodded as she reached for the bird. Shiner Bock was faster though. He flapped his wings and awkwardly sailed from the table to where Zeb sat at the bar. Zeb backed away, knocking into the man behind him, who managed to spill an entire pitcher of beer.
The bartender wavered between making a grab for the bird and trying to stop the liquid from racing down the bar. The beer won. Alex’s hands clenched into fists. What had he gotten himself into?
Zina handed him Izzy’s drawing that still had shake dripping from the bottom. Then she snagged another towel from the edge of the bar.
Shiner Bock flapped his wings as he watched her approach, his beady eyes following her every move. As she reached for him, he hopped down the bar, racing past diners and those who were there to drink the stress of the day away. Zina almost had him, but then his claw landed in Zeb’s side of refried beans and Shiner Bock paused to lick the food off his foot.
“Beans, beans, magic fruit,” the bird squawked as he nibbled at his claw.
Zina stopped and glanced over her shoulder at Alex. As her gaze met his, she let out a laugh. The icy dread sliding through his veins warmed up a few degrees. He rounded the line of booths and with some silent hand gestures between them, they closed in on the unsuspecting bird.
The patrons manning the barstools scattered, leaving nothing between Alex and Shiner Bock but a few feet of hardwood flooring. Alex clucked his tongue, trying to get the bird’s attention as Zina crept up behind him, her towel at the ready.
“Here, birdie.” Alex kept his voice calm and steady, even as Zina closed the last few feet between them.
As the towel sailed over Shiner Bock’s head, Zina wrapped her hands around him, capturing him in her grip. The customers clapped and the sound of silverware clinking on plates resumed. Alex breathed out a sigh of relief, grateful that the bird had been caught and a major crisis averted.
Frankie ran up to his side, the bag held out in front of her. “I’m sorry, Uncle Alex. Shiner Bock is scared of the dark and didn’t want to stay in the bag.”
He squatted down in front of her. “You can’t bring animals into restaurants, honey.”
“That’s what Mom says. But she’s not here so I thought maybe you would say it’s okay.” She put her hands to her cheeks.
“We’ll talk about it when we get home.” He took the bag from her and met Zina at the bar, where she cradled a quiet Shiner Bock against her chest. “Thanks for pitching in.”
“Are you okay?” Her gaze flickered over him.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He opened the bag and waited while she settled the bird inside. “Just a minor setback. All’s well.”
“You sure?” She narrowed her eyes like she didn’t believe him.
Why did it seem like people were always second-guessing him? A prickle of annoyance zipped along his spine. “Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Well”—she glanced down to where Shiner Bock adjusted his position in the bag—“you’re here to take care of penguins, but you don’t seem to have much of a way with birds.”
He fought the urge to shoot her a certain kind of bird. But hell, she was right. “I guarantee you, I’m better at handling wildlife than the domesticated kind.”
Zina grinned as she nudged her chin toward the table where his nieces squabbled. “For your sake, I sure hope so.”
nine
Zina turned away from Alex and made her way back to the bar. So she’d questioned his ability to work with birds. It seemed only natural to wonder about his experience when he couldn’t even manage a domesticated parrot. If he was that unsure of himself around a pet, how would he be able to handle the wild penguins Lacey was hell-bent on bringing to town? Did he even have experience with penguins at all?
He’d given Lacey some story about how he’d been working at a remote research station in Antarctica of all places. Could be he’d made the whole thing up so he could make a few quick bucks. Based on how he handled the bird, he probably didn’t have much hands-on experience with penguins or any other kind of mammal.
“Well that was exciting,” Zina said as she settled onto her barstool. “You weren’t planning on finishing those nachos, were you?”
Zeb glanced down to where a trail of beans led from the plate to the platter sitting next to him. “Um, no.”
“You ready to go? We might want to get out of here before they blame us for the bird disturbance.”
“Sure.” Zeb drained his tea.
She slid some cash across the bar to cover their meals. By the time she’d shrugged on her jacket and followed Zeb out to the parking lot, Alex was getting the brood of kids he’d brought with him all buckled into their seats. She hesitated, not wanting to have to walk past his truck, but it sat right next to hers. Finally, she let out a sigh. Since when had she ever let some guy determine her actions?
Never.
So with a little extra bounce in her step, she crossed the gravel lot. He looked up as she got closer. The resignation on his face mirrored the way she felt inside. Not nearly enough time had passed since their last interaction.
“Got everyone squared away?” she asked as she pressed the unlock button on her key fob.
“Yep. They were kind enough to box up our order for us. We’re going to fly away home now. That’s probably the last time you’ll be seeing any member of my family roosting around here.”
“That’s too bad. I hear they have all-you-can-eat wings on Fridays.”
He stared at her like he wasn’t sure if she was joking or not. That’s what her weird sense of humor often got her—people who didn’t know what to make of her. “It’s a joke. A bad joke. Get it? Wings because you had trouble containing your bird?”
He scoffed but his smile told her he could appreciate her sense of humor. “I didn’t have trouble. Shiner Bock just had ideas of his own.”
“You named your bird Shiner Bock?”
“You got a problem with that?” He clamped his hands on his hips. She might not be interested in looking at every single man as a possible mate, but even she had to admit she didn’t mind checking him out. It was impossible not to. Tousled hair the color of the sand on the Galveston coast. His eyes hovered between blue and green, going from the color of turquoise in the bracelet her mom had left her to a much darker blue color like the fields of bluebonnets that lined the highways in the spring.
“No, no problem. Just an odd choice, that’s all.”
“I’m sure you’ve named some of your rescue mutts some odd names now and then.” He leaned his backside against the truck and she almost let herself get sucked into the flirtatious undercurrent that seemed to pull at her.
“Nope. We don’t typically name our rescue pups after alcoholic beve
rages.”
“That’s too bad. You could have had a Fireball or maybe even a Cosmo.”
“Oh, we do have a Cosmo but he’s named after a TV character.”
“Let me guess. Kramer? On Seinfeld?”
“Yeah. Are you a fan?” She had the complete series on DVD at home. It was one her brother liked to watch over and over again.
“Of course. No soup for you.”
“Right. The soup episode.”
“It’s a classic. So what other shows do you like?”
Zina shook off the warning that she probably should stop sharing tidbits of her personal life. Alex had a way about him that made people feel comfortable, made them let down their guard. But instead of backing away, she leaned into it.
“I’m a closet fan of Gilmore Girls.”
His lips twisted and his brow crinkled. “Can’t say I’ve seen that one.”
Common ground. Hmm. What dude shows had she seen recently? “How about reality TV? The ninja warrior show?”
“Oh, I love that one. Even thought about trying out sometime.”
“You have?”
“Yeah. Does that surprise you?”
She nodded. “Most guys with your, um”—she let her gaze travel up and down his full six-foot-plus frame—“build don’t seem to do very well.”
His eyes sparked. “What’s wrong with my build?”
Now she’d done it. That’s why she didn’t make a habit of talking to strangers. Especially good-looking, quick-witted guys who never seemed to have any trouble twisting her words around and getting her to sound like a complete and utter idiot. “There’s nothing wrong with your build. It’s just that—”
“I get it. The guys who win those competitions aren’t quite so bulky. It’s too bad I’m cursed.”
Zina’s mouth went dry. If being cursed meant he was built like a Chippendales dancer, then she wished with all her might she’d get infected by the feminine version of the same curse at some point in her life.
“Uncle Alex, Frankie’s letting Shiner Bock out of the bag.” Izzy leaned out the window.