“I’ve got her.”
Regan’s dad, Hayden, glares at me. “She’s my daughter, which means she's my responsibility.”
Before I can give him the old, "You can pick your friends, but you can't pick your parents line," a pretty blonde I'd guess to be early to mid-fifties joins our intense standoff. Even though a willow tree shadows half her face, I can confidently declare she's Regan's mother. She's just as beautiful and seemingly just as confident.
“Supper is now over; dessert is up next. If you two aren’t inside within the next ten minutes, I’m feeding your share of the pie to the dogs.”
After her eyes drift between me sitting in the passenger seat of her husband’s truck with a sleeping Regan in my arms, and Regan’s dad standing guard at my door, she pivots away with a laugh, leaving me stranded with a man who believes I’m incapable of carrying his daughter up a flight of stairs.
Once the creak of an old screen door screeches through the uncomfortable silence, Hayden’s slit eyes lock back with mine. “God dang it, boy, if you make me miss out on Sally’s homemade pie, I’ll suck out your gizzards with a bucket milker.”
I don't know if he's putting on a country accent because we’re surrounded by his family dairy farm, or because his patience is running thin. Either way, I'm not giving in. Regan trusts me enough she fell asleep on my chest. I'm not giving that up for anything.
“I swear to you, I won’t drop her. Look at her; she’s not the least bit worried.”
For the first time the past twenty minutes, Hayden does as requested. The deep groove between his blond brows smooths when he notices Regan’s unmarred face. She's so blissfully unaware of the volatile situation surrounding her, she's without a single wrinkle or blemish. She's so peaceful, if it weren’t for Hayden’s demand that we move her into her room, I wouldn’t budge an inch. I’d keep her nestled in my chest for eternity.
Rather than allow Hayden to make his own decision, Sally forces one on him. “Hayden, get your ass inside before the workers see you making a fool of yourself. He’s a grown man, for crying out loud. He won’t drop her like you did when she was a baby.”
My quiet snickers cause Regan to stir in my arms. I shush her as if she's a baby I've only just laid down for a nap, praying she remains asleep. I love Regan's sass, and her sharp tongue is even more fire-sparking than her beautiful body, but I also like being the man she can rely on when things get tough. She's struggling tonight, so I want to be there for her.
Hayden’s words are delivered via a sneer. “If you drop her—”
“I won’t. I swear to god, I’ll never let her go.” I lower my eyes to his chin, praying he’ll miss the possessiveness in my tone. From the way his bottom lip curls into a snarl, I doubt it.
With Hayden guiding my every move, I curl out of his truck and start the sixteen stair climb to Regan's childhood bedroom. Her room is as expected; there are just more dairy cow ornaments than I imagined. It's glamorous, pink, and smells like fresh flowers. . . and perhaps a hint of cow dung?
I'm reasonably sure the last reference is compliments of Hayden. He was so pedantic about directing my every step, he refused to remove his boots—much to Sally's dismay.
"On the left," Hayden instructs me when I move toward Regan's bed on the back wall of her room. "She prefers sleeping on the left so she can see the meadow when she wakes."
Keeping my eyeroll on the down-low, I head for the left side of Regan's bed. Her pasty white skin looks vivid against the hot pink sheets covering her double mattress. Even her platinum blonde hair appears more intense.
I let out a little chuckle when I notice her feet dangle off the edge of her bed.
Hayden doesn’t find my laughter appealing. “Something funny, boy?”
I’m saved from explaining myself when Sally enters Regan’s room. “Leave the man alone, Hayden. Regan wouldn’t have invited him into our home if he was up to no good.”
She taps my shoulder in support before dropping her focus to Regan. “She’ll be out until morning, so why don’t you two go and grab some supper and a shower. It smells like horse manure in here.”
My jaw falls open when Hayden murmurs, “That’s straight up shit, and it ain’t coming from me.”
He shrugs as if he never said anything when Sally shoots him a dirty glare. I can understand his defense of ignorance. I use a similar argument when subjected to Regan's intense glare.
While carefully tugging out a cow-printed blanket from beneath Regan’s feet, I ask, “Should we wake her for tea? Excluding a few olives, she hasn’t eaten since breakfast.”
I never knew you could hear a jaw tick until now. Hayden proves you can. Apparently, his daughter’s failure to announce her hunger is somehow my fault.
“You didn’t feed my girl?”
“I tried. She wouldn’t accept anything I offered.” My words garble at the end, choked by the fear clutching my throat. From the way Hayden’s nostrils are flaring, anyone would swear I just told him I attempted to feed Regan my cock . . . Oh.
“I meant food. She’s picky about what food she consumes.”
The redness on Hayden’s cheeks doubles. “Of course you meant food. What else would you be talking about?!”
I swallow—harshly. “Condiments?”
Someone file a missing person report, as I'm fairly confident I just signed my death certificate.
“Condiments? Are you sure of that, boy?” He says the term usually spoken in a positive light as if it's a derogatory term.
“Hayden. . .”
I stare at Sally, stunned. She utters one word, and Hayden’s anger is subdued in an instant. I so much as breathe, and he mentally sharpens his ax.
“Go grab some fresh towels from the linen closet. I forgot to lay them out when you left to pick up Regan.”
Hayden stands frozen for a minute, unsure if he's coming or going. He isn't the only one confused. I don't want to leave Regan, but I'm not sure she'd consent to a sleepover. We worked through some issues on the roadside over an hour ago, but we’ve still got a shit-ton to weather.
Once Hayden leaves—after a silent threat of dismemberment directed my way—Sally’s carefree eyes lift to mine. “Are you hungry?”
Her lips tug up in the corners when I shake my head. “Your stomach too twisted with worry to eat?”
My shake turns into a nod.
"If you think it's hard on you, imagine being him." She jerks her chin in the direction Hayden went. "He doesn't just have one woman to take care of; he has three. Four if you include his momma." She's discreet, but I don't miss the faint crinkle of her nose when she mentions Hayden's mom. "Regan is our eldest. She's the one we cut our teeth with. That's even more reason for her daddy to be extra-protective of her. Things have been tough with them since Luca’s accident. They both take blame for what happened.”
Before I ask how either of them could be blamed for an accident, Hayden reenters the room. The towels in his hands are as girly as Regan’s sheets, ensuring I can’t miss his silent message. He didn’t fetch these towels for me. They are for his baby girl.
Regan's mattress squeaks when Sally stands to her feet. "We'll let you get some shut-eye. Things start early around here, so the earlier you head to bed, the easier you’ll rise."
Hayden doesn’t announce a single protest with his eyes before Sally curls her hand around his elbow to lug him out of the room. Considering there's a good foot difference in their heights, it's no easy feat for Sally to do, but she manages—somewhat. Her determination proves what I knew from the moment I laid my eyes on her. Regan got her fiery core from her mother.
“If you need anything, we’ll be just down the hall.”
“Uh-huh. That’s right. Just down the hall. As in two walls. Six steps. One level," Hayden adds on before his words are swallowed by Sally shutting the door behind them. "I also have a shotgun under my bed!"
I hear them bickering in the hall, but once my focus returns to Regan, their voices fade into the background. Regan looks so peaceful when she's sleeping. Beautiful. Calm. Controlled. Mine.
I’m not as surprised by my last admission as I should be. Coming here was a bad idea because the more time I spend with Regan, the deeper I want to sink my hooks into her. I brought her here under the guise we needed to investigate the incident in her apartment last night, but in all honesty, that was a ruse. The conversation I had with Brandon while Regan packed guarantees I can’t use evidence-seeking as an excuse for our getaway.
A sick, demented section of my brain wanted Regan alone so I could show her the real me away from the prying eyes of those watching her every move—not just my colleagues, but men like Isaac as well. But instead of doing that, I thrust her into a real-life nightmare by forcing her to face truths she isn't ready to face. I barely know this woman, so what gives me the right to force her to do anything?
I should come clean and admit everything, but if I do that, I not only sacrifice my career, I run the risk of losing Regan. That scares me more than anything. This weekend is my only chance to show Regan who I really am. Then perhaps once I unveil the man behind the job description, she won’t be so quick to judge my deceit. Then maybe—just maybe—she’ll grant me both items on the top of my wish list.
I can have her and also arrest Isaac. It will truly be a win-win.