Chapter Eight
Daddy, where we goin’?”
“To Uncle Tobin and Aunt Jade’s for supper.”
“Oh. I forgot.”
Streeter looked at Olivia in the rearview mirror. “Where’d you think we were goin’?”
“To town so I could buy my own bow and arrow.”
“We’ll see if you’re still interested in archery after this week’s camp, okay?”
She returned her gaze out the window. Then she added, “Sergeant B said she’s gonna let us have BB guns next time.”
Not if he had anything to say about it.
But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You don’t know what to say to the sexy spitfire sergeant.
Streeter couldn’t remember the last time anyone had pushed him to talk. It’d surprised him that she didn’t know the gruesome details about how Olivia’s mother had died. Maybe she already knew, but he opted to believe she’d truly been interested in his relationships with his brothers. Which had opened the door for her to talk about her sisters, specifically her worries over Harper’s stress levels with a new baby.
And he’d panicked. He’d cut her off and run before she could do the unthinkable and ask him how Olivia’s mom had dealt with postpartum depression. Because he couldn’t really answer the way he wanted: Well, my wife didn’t talk about her depression and told me everything was fine—a lie I believed right up until the minute I found her body.
Even in his own head he knew he sounded clinical and bitter describing the event in those terms, but his therapist assured him that addressing it without euphemisms would allow him to move past it.
He’d moved past some things, others not so much.
Yet, Streeter understood that no one could fault him for not trying to meet new people, because he’d be back to square one: explaining what had caused him to be a single parent and a widower at such a young age.
He turned down the long driveway and parked in front of the funky house Tobin and Jade had inherited from Jade’s grandmother. Streeter and Olivia both loved it here. This place had become home to them.
Tobin paced on the porch with his two-month-old son cradled in his arms. He opened the childproof gate that kept their energetic two-year-old daughter, Amber, corralled. “Get in here quick because I don’t have the energy to chase her down again.”
Streeter laughed.
Olivia immediately led Amber to the opposite end of the porch and they settled amid a pile of toys.
“Good to see you, T.” Streeter held up a six-pack of hard cider. “Here’s our contribution to supper.”
“That’s perfect. Ask Jade if she wants one when you go inside to grab the opener.” Tobin gently jiggled the baby. “This is the first time Micah has slept all damn day.”
“Rough, man. I’ll be right back.” Streeter didn’t let the screen door slam when he entered the house. He turned the corner into the kitchen and saw his sister-in-law chopping carrots like a professional chef.
She was also crying.
What to do? Should he go away?
Put his arms around her?
He sucked at this.
Or maybe you could just stand here paralyzed at the thought of talking to a petite woman who you consider your sister.
Fuck that. He started toward her. “Knock knock.”
Jade glanced up and wiped her face on her sleeve. “Hey, Street.”
“Smells good in here.”
“Don’t get too excited. It’s pasta. I’m behind on making the sauce because our son wouldn’t let me put him down all day.”
“Tobin mentioned that you might be needing an adult beverage.”
“God, yes please.”
Streeter plucked the magnetic bottle opener off the fridge and popped the tops on the cider. He and Jade clinked bottles before they each took a sip.
Jade sighed. “That’s what I needed. Thank you.” She gestured with the knife. “Now off with you so I can finish my sauce.”
He peered in the saucepan. “You put carrots in your red sauce?”
“It’s an extra serving of vegetables for my husband and daughter that I don’t have to nag them to eat, so don’t tattle on me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Streeter snagged the bottles and returned outside.
Tobin lounged on the porch swing with Micah tucked close to his body.
After Streeter handed over the cider, he lowered himself into a wicker chair.
“So what’s new?”
“Nothin’ much.” Except I’m attracted to a sexy drill sergeant with a body that sends dirty thoughts straight to my dick and I’m such a moron I don’t even know how to talk to her about normal stuff. “How about you?”
“Workin’ and changing diapers.”
He swallowed a long drink of crisp, cold cider.
“Ain’t we the exciting pair?” Tobin said.
“No one’s ever used ‘exciting’ to describe me, bro.”
Olivia hopped up and rested her hands on Streeter’s thigh. “Something exciting happened to me, Uncle Tobin.”
He grinned at her. “I’m all ears, darlin’.”
“We got to use bows and arrows at boot camp! And Sergeant B says I’m a natural.”
“That is exciting.”
“Uh-huh. I even hit the target more than Tate did, and he’s nine.”
Tobin whistled softly. “You’re a real Katniss Everdeen.”
Olivia frowned. “Who’s that?”
“A reference that’s a little over her head, Uncle Tobin.” Streeter smoothed Olivia’s hair back. They’d rushed from the pool and he’d forgotten to comb out the tangles—an oversight he’d pay for after her bath tonight. “It’s a book you’ll read when you’re older.”
“I can read now!”
“I know you can. In fact, why don’t you read to Amber? She loves that.”
“Okay.” Olivia skipped away.
Tobin lowered his voice. “How’s she doin’?”
“She hasn’t chased off either of her new babysitters. She barely threw a tantrum when she came back from Gramma Deenie’s. I only got one incident report from her camp counselor.” He sipped his cider. “And she hasn’t had night terrors for an entire week.”
“That’s progress, right?”
“Yep.”
“Deenie’s still insisting on weekly visits?”
“Uh-huh. And Steve too.”
“But doesn’t Olivia act up more after she’s been with her grandma and grandpa?”
Streeter picked at the label on his bottle. “Not as much as she used to, but what am I supposed to do about it?” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t listening. “Olivia is all they have of Danica. It sucks that Deenie and Steve divorced after Danica died, but I can’t deny either of them time with her.”
“But one of them takin’ her for an overnight visit ain’t givin’ you the break you deserve when they have to call you to find out why she’s cryin’ and upset.”
“She turns into a dictator because they each spoil her rotten tryin’ to outdo the other. Then they’re surprised when they try to tell her no and she doesn’t listen. On the plus side, they’ve finally grasped that because her level of attachment is minimal, she doesn’t hold grudges.” He rubbed the furrow between his brow, trying to stave off the headache from thinking about his former in-laws. “Deenie stopped givin’ her unlimited sweets, which curbed some of the behavior issues, despite Deenie arguing with me that too much sugar is just an old wives’ tale. They still buy her anything she wants, but at least the things they buy her have to stay at their houses. I call that a win.”
Tobin sighed. “I don’t know how you do it, man.”
Streeter shrugged. “I don’t have a choice. I love her. The people who loved her mother need to love her too and I have to let them.”
“Fine. Be all altruistic and shit. But Friday night, after she gets picked up by Gramma Deenie, you’n me are havin’ a beer at the Buckeye.”
“I doubt Jade would be happy about you ditching your family to buy me a beer.”
“I haven’t forgotten that you’re my family too, Street.”
Streeter looked away.
Jade breezed out, set two more ciders on the table and hugged Streeter from behind. “I think you boys having a brew at the Buckeye is a marvelous idea since I know you’d both rather be drinking beer than cider.” She kissed his cheek and whispered, “Tobin needs adult time with someone other than me.” Then she crossed over, laid a steamy kiss on her husband and plucked their son from his arms. “Little dude is down for the count. Supper will be ready in ten.”
“Thanks, babe.”
The girls were being too quiet, giving Streeter an excuse to see what they were doing. They were so engrossed in flipping through books they didn’t notice him, so he sauntered over to lean on the porch pillar.
“She’s fine,” Tobin said.
Streeter frowned at him. “I know. I just checked on her.”
“Not Olivia. Jade.” Tobin stood and moved next to Streeter. “I know you watch her.”
This kind of talk made him so goddamned uncomfortable, but he couldn’t deny it. “You sure she’s fine? She was cryin’ in the kitchen when I walked in.”
“She always cries when she’s chopping onions.”
But it was carrots stuck on the tip of his tongue.
“You worry. I get it. I get why you’ve kept an eagle eye on her after Amber was born and now after Micah.” He gulped his cider. “I ain’t gonna lie. She’s had a couple of meltdowns. Then again, so have I.”
Streeter managed a smile.
“But I’ll tell you that it’s because of you that Jade and I talk it out. All of it. There’s no stone left unturned in our lives—good, bad or ugly.”
“I’m relieved to hear that.”
“She’s goin’ back to work next week.”
“Where? At the Split Rock?”
He shook his head. “Teaching summer violin lessons. Just three hours a day, three days a week to start.”
“Who’s watchin’ the kids?”
“Me, one day. Grandma Garnet and the Mud Lilies the other two.” Tobin held up his hand. “They’ll have strict parameters. But they’ve raised ten kids between them, so I’m fine with it. Like Garnet said . . . ain’t like we’re expecting them to do calculus with Amber and infant aerobics with Micah. They’ll love up on them while they’re little and cute and can’t talk back.”
“Sounds like Garnet.”
“She’s been on her best behavior. She didn’t want to add to Jade’s pregnancy stress.”
“You guys are really lucky to have so many people lookin’ out for both of you and your kids.”
Tobin cocked his head. “This is the most you’ve ever talked about this kinda stuff.”
“Been on my mind. I still suck at talkin’ about it but at least I didn’t freeze up with you like I did earlier today.”
Why had he said that? Now he sensed Tobin’s curiosity.
“Who else you been talkin’ to?”
Streeter said nothing.
“Maybe I oughta ask who’s been tryin’ to talk to you?”
“Harper’s sister, Bailey.”
Tobin nodded. “I heard she was in town. Anyway, go on.”
“Ain’t much to ‘go on’ about. Before she could ask me more questions, I panicked and bailed.” He’d bailed on Bailey. He’d find that funny if it hadn’t been at his own expense. “Forget I said anything.”
“Huh-uh. Bailey’s in the army. Is she the one Olivia called Sergeant B?”
“That’d be her.”
“What’s she like?”
Tempting.
Streeter cleared his throat. “She’s sassy. For bein’ like five foot nothin’, she is large and in charge.”
“At the kid’s boot/day camp thing?”
“And everywhere else I’ve run into her.”
“You been hangin’ out someplace besides the Split Rock, bro?”
“That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you. Bailey is livin’ at the Split Rock.”
Tobin’s expression went from shock to delight. “That’s great.”
“No, it’s not great, it’s messin’ with my head.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning I see her every day.” Even if she didn’t see him.
“You do live and work at the same place, so that’s not so unusual.”
“Wrong. I wouldn’t have to see her every day, except that she has Olivia’s drum set so I have to accompany Olivia when she marches down there every morning to ask for it back.”
Tobin frowned. “I thought you told me that you took Olivia’s drums away?”
Streeter explained what’d happened.
His brother busted a gut laughing. “You didn’t think that one through, did you?”
“Shut it.” He lowered his voice. “Then today I saw her in a damn swimsuit at the pool. She plopped down and started talkin’ to me like we were old friends.”
“And?”
“And it’s been so goddamned long since I’ve been that close to a half-naked woman that I froze up and tried not to stare at her body like some old pervert.”
“Dude. First of all, if she struck up a conversation with you, did you ever think she might be interested in you?”
Streeter blinked at his brother like he’d lost his marbles. “We were the only ones at the pool. Wasn’t like she had anyone else to talk to.”
“But if she was interested?”
“She’s Olivia’s teacher.”
“So?”
“So it’s pointless to talk about because I ran off when the conversation hit too close to home. Now I hafta come up with an apology for bolting on her, but she gets me so flustered that I can barely talk to her—”
“Hey, guys,” Jade called out through the screen door, “time to eat.”
Tobin got in his face. “Don’t think you were saved by the dinner bell, Street. We ain’t done with this convo.”
But it turned out they were done talking for the night.
After supper Jade offered to bathe Olivia with Amber, saving him from dealing with her snarly hair, so he cleaned up the kitchen and did the dishes. Then he read the girls a couple of books so Jade could shower.
While that was going on, Tobin dealt with Micah. Even after Tobin fed and changed him, the baby continued to cry and fuss.
Streeter remembered dealing with an unhappy baby and how it seemed ten times worse when he had an audience judging his parenting skills, so he and Olivia headed home.
He’d hoped she’d fall asleep in the car, but the girl was wired. And she asked questions that even Google couldn’t answer.
If dinosaurs were the biggest animals, what scared them?
Who got to pick the names for all colors? What if blue should really be called orange?
Why do people skip rocks across the lake?
She asked him what he’d do if he saw a magical fairy in the forest (his answer to leave it be earned him a heavy sigh) and then she gave an explicit explanation of what she’d do: learn how to do its magic and become the queen of the world.
It was good to have goals.
By the time he’d unbuckled her from her car seat, she was asleep. Then she nestled her head on his shoulder as he carried her toward their trailer.
He loved these quiet times with her because they were becoming rare. Pretty soon she’d be too big to carry, or worse . . . she wouldn’t want to be carried.
That would break his heart.
He’d stopped to dig his keys out of his pocket when he heard a door close. He glanced down the walkway to see Bailey leaving her trailer with a duffel bag.
Was she headed to the gym this late?
Maybe she’d gotten a booty call.
No surprise she’d have no trouble finding a hookup.
Knock it off, perv.
Bailey paused when she reached him. “Do you need help?”
“Nah, I got it. But thanks.” He turned the key in the lock before looking at her again. “You’re out late.” Way to sound accusatory.
“I missed my workout this morning.” She gave him a once-over. “You’re out late yourself.”
“We had supper with my brother and his family. That’s why we left the pool, uh . . . like we did.”
She cocked her head. “Really? You suddenly remembered you had dinner plans during the middle of our conversation?”
They studied each other for a moment.
Somehow he found the guts to say, “No.”
“Okay. That’s progress. Tell me . . . did I say something to offend you?”
“Nope. I just . . .” Don’t know how to act around you.
“You just . . . what? My friendliness annoyed you because you have enough friends?”
“God, no. That’s not it. Not even close.”
“Then what?”
He leaned in. “This right here is what it is. Surely you’ve noticed I’m no good at small talk.” He shifted Olivia higher. “I ain’t so hot at big talk either.”
She laughed softly. “I know you’re not trying to be funny, but—”
“But you’re laughin’ at me.”
“Not at you, Streeter. I’m laughing because usually I’m the one who’s awkward.”
“I doubt that.”
“You’ve probably noticed that I tend to come on strong.”
“You? Nah.”
She laughed again. “Maybe you’re just out of practice with small talk.”
“Yeah, well, cattle ain’t much on talkin’ back.”
“See? You are funny.”
Her grin widened and he saw she had a tiny dimple on the right side of her smile. How hadn’t he noticed that sexy little divot before now?
When she continued to smile without speaking, he said, “What?”
“Nothing. I just like seeing you like this.”
“Like what? Fumblin’ my words like a tongue-tied fool?”
“No, I like that you’re not trying to get away from me.”
He blinked at her and kept his mouth shut.
“Plus, you’re cute when you’re flustered.”
Cute? “Jesus. No one has called me ‘cute’ since junior high.”
“Then maybe it’s past time you heard it. You’re very cute, Streeter Hale, and I’m crushing on you big-time.”
His jaw might’ve hit the top of Olivia’s head when it dropped.
“I’m not good at small talk either. I’m more a cut-to-the-chase kinda chick.”
“Good to know.”
She bumped him with her hip as she walked past. “Sweet dreams, cutie. See ya around.”
The following night Streeter had just finished watching the fourth episode of the third season of Portlandia—such a weird fuckin’ show but he’d gotten sucked into binge-watching it—when he heard a whack-whack-whack outside.
He hit mute and listened.
Another two rounds of it started and stopped.
Then he heard voices.
He pulled his T-shirt over his head and shoved his feet into his boots before he sailed out the door.
That was when Streeter saw Bailey beating something—a shoe?—against the post at the end of the walkway. He started toward her, not stealthily, but he doubted she could hear him over her cursing.
“Stupid-fucking-Wyoming-mud-fucking-everywhere-cheapass-motherfucking-shoes-burn-them-starting-with-these-goddamned-busted-shoelaces—”
“Bailey?”
Her head snapped up. She wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her forearm and said, “Oh. Hey, Streeter,” like he hadn’t caught her beating the fuck out of her shoe.
His eyes narrowed on her. She had the left shoe on, a sock on her right foot and the right shoe in her hand. Her shorts and T-shirt were plastered to her body. Her legs, arms and face were splattered with mud. And was that more mud running down the side of her shin, or blood? He stormed closer. “What happened to you? Are you all right?”
“I’m pissed off. I went for a run and the laces on this shoe”—Bailey held up the offending shoe—“fucking unraveled and broke. Broke! Like they’d been pre-nicked with scissors and it unraveled like it’d been run through a cocksucking shredder. Cheap-assed things. And of course it happened when I was three fucking miles from here. So my choices were to do a walking shuffle combo or to take the shoe off and walk with one bare foot on the gravel road or in the muddy grass. I tried both options, which both sucked ass by the way. I fell down twice in the goddamned mud . . . which again, what the fuck is wrong with me because I’d somehow forgotten that this place was named Muddy Gap for a reason.” She took a breath. “I’m just so fucking mad that I thought if I could beat this shoe to pieces I’d feel better.”
“Do you?”
“A little.” She blinked at him. “What are you doing out here?”
“I heard ‘whack whack whack’ and thought maybe you’d taken up Olivia’s drums, so I came out to listen.”
Bailey gave him the crooked smile that just did it for him. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“You didn’t mention the other option besides shuffling home. You could’ve called”—me—“someone to come get you.”
“I didn’t have my phone.”
“What?”
She gestured to her tiny orange running shorts and her skintight yellow T-shirt. “Does it look like I have any pockets? Besides, who would I have called? I don’t have any friends here. So that leaves Harper. And she’d have to drive thirty minutes to come and find me at eleven at night? Everybody around here is in bed before that.”
“I’m not,” he pointed out.
“But Olivia is. And you would’ve had to wake her and put her in the car and go looking for me and don’t pretend you would’ve been happy about it.”
Streeter ran his hand through his hair. “I’m not happy that you went runnin’ by yourself, after ten o’clock at night, in a remote area, on a moonless night, without your phone.”
“Yeah, but—”
“That is dangerous, Bailey, and you know it. For christsake, we have mountain lions and coyotes around here. Not to mention the human predators who see a hot little thing out runnin’ alone late at night, they could just overpower you and toss you in their car—”
“I can throw a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound man on his ass, so I’m not exactly some helpless damsel, Streeter,” she said crossly. “And if you think I am, why don’t you—”
“Come at me, bruh?”
His sarcastic response surprised her.
“Is that really where you wanna go with this?” he demanded when she stayed silent. “Toss off something flip when I tell you I’m worried about you?”
“That’s the tack you’re gonna take after you called me a hot little thing?”
Streeter leaned closer. “I shoulda called you a reckless, stubborn hot little thing.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Calling me a ‘little’ anything is insulting.”
“Yeah? Well you called me ‘cute’ last night, so I guess we’re even. Cute. Christ. Makes me sound like a damn chipmunk.”
“You are chattering at me like an angry chipmunk, Streeter.”
He was. God. What was wrong with him? He started to back away, an apology forming in his mouth, when she jumped in front of him, stopping his retreat.
“Ah-ah-ah, buddy. You’re not bailing on me again because I will chase you down.”
His eyebrow winged up. “You think you can catch me when you’re wearin’ one shoe with defective laces and a muddy sock?”
“Dude.” She gestured to his clothing. “You have no room to talk about what I’m wearing when you’re half-dressed and prancing around in shitkickers. Bold fashion choice. I kinda hate that it works on you.”
Once again he blushed around this woman.
“Anyway, what I meant to say is . . . you do have a point about me acting reckless.” She sighed. “The walls of the trailer were closing in on me and the treadmills at the fitness center were full, so I took off because I needed to run. After my shoelace broke, I felt like an idiot, limping through the dark. I spooked myself because I realized I could’ve been a late-night snack for some wild critter. Or I could’ve fallen down and gotten hurt worse than this and no one would’ve known where I was.” She ducked her head. “And then to be truly morbid, I wondered if anyone would even notice I was gone.”
“I would’ve noticed.”
“You mean Olivia would’ve noticed when she showed up tomorrow morning to ask me to give back her drums.”
“No, I would’ve noticed. I pay attention to hot little things like you far more than I’m comfortable admitting.”
She blinked at him.
He crouched down to escape her questioning eyes. “Dammit, this is blood.”
“It’s just a scratch.”
“I need to see it in the light. Come inside.”
“I’m not gonna drag mud into your house. I’ll be fine. If it were serious it’d probably hurt and it doesn’t.”
He stared her down. “Pain is not a gauge to determine the extent of the injury. You could’ve cut it so deep it’s become numb.”
“Streeter. Don’t, please.”
“Don’t what?”
“I . . . can’t . . .”
Something in her tone clawed at him. “Talk to me.”
“I can’t stand the sight of blood. I get woozy and want to throw up, and I don’t want you to see me like that,” she said in a rush.
It took every bit of his will to remain there, through the flashback of finding Danica’s body. Blood everywhere. She’d slashed her wrists before she used the gun to make sure she didn’t fail in taking her own life.
“I’m sorry,” Bailey said, yanking him back from that horrendous memory.
“Me too, sweetheart, ’cause I’m gonna hafta insist on seein’ to that cut now.” He tipped her chin up to peer into her eyes. “I can’t let you go and take the chance you’ll pass out in the shower with no one around to help you in case you hit your head.” He swept his thumb across her dimple. “Even if you let me help you, I still think you’re a badass, Sergeant.”
She stared at him and those pretty hazel eyes shimmered with embarrassment. “Fine. But just to keep things fair, you have to tell me something that freaks you out.”
You.
When he hesitated to answer, she supplied, “You’re afraid of clowns, aren’t you?”
He grinned. “I think maybe you’re projecting.”
“Then tell me.”
“Fine. Chain saws have freaked me out since I was a kid. Even now I refuse to use one.”
“So you’ve never seen the movie . . . ?”
Streeter shuddered. “Never. Now march, soldier, so I can get you fixed up.”
He held the screen door open for her. Once inside, he pointed to the counter. “Hop up.”
She didn’t argue.
He washed his hands and wet two paper towels. With his left hand on her knee, he gently swabbed away the mud. He saw the mark was more of a scrape than a cut.
“What’s the verdict?”
“More mud than blood.”
“Told ya.”
He chuckled. “Couldn’t resist, could you?”
“Nope.”
He grabbed the first-aid kit from under the sink. “Antibacterial spray or gel?”
“Gel.”
Streeter took his time dabbing gel on the tiny scrape on Bailey’s very smooth, very muscular leg.
“You’re good at this whole patching-up thing, Hale.”
“Comes with the territory of havin’ a kid who sees life as an obstacle course.” He couldn’t drag this out any longer without seeming like a perv. “And lucky you, I have a wide selection of bandages.”
“Wonder Woman?”
“Of course.” He dug through the kit until he found the small bandage and pressed it on. “Done.”
“Thanks for the TLC.”
He bit back a snort and fussed with the first-aid kit.
“But you forgot something.” She leaned closer. “Aren’t you gonna offer to kiss it and make it better?” she said in a husky voice that stirred his cock.
“First time I kiss you ain’t gonna be on your leg.” The words just slipped out of his mouth.
Silence.
What the fuck had possessed him to say that all cocky-like? As if sexy stuff dripped from his lips all the damn time. Christ. He couldn’t even look at her now.
Bailey slid off the counter. She paused behind him.
Streeter didn’t turn around.
“That’s something I’m looking forward to.” She squeezed his biceps. “It’s late. I’ll see myself out.”
Then she was gone.