Page 23 of Ice, Love, & Other Penalties

Her mood flips completely at the idea, any leftover grumps gone. “Yes, can we have strawberries too?” she chimes in.

“Sounds like a plan. Strawberries it is,” I agree, and we head down to the kitchen. Moving from her room, down the stairs into the kitchen feels routine, it’s nothing compared to the battle we just had, I just hope that when we start preparing the food she doesn’t change her mind.

The kitchen looks perfect, just like we left it last night. I pull out what we need from the fridge—eggs, bacon, and spot the strawberries on the counter. Myra drags the small stool and sets it by the counter. I hand her the whisk. “I think you’re ready to be on egg cracking and whisking duty.”

She straightens her back and smiles at me. “Okay. Indie taught me how yesterday.”

Myra carefully taps the first egg on the edge of the bowl. It cracks open perfectly, no shell bits in sight, and she beams up at me, proud. “I did it. You should take a picture of me and send it to Indie.”

“You sure did,” I praise her, as she cracks another, getting ready to whisk them together. I snap a quick picture with my phone for later and begin to put the pans on top of the stove.

Soon enough I’ve got bacon strips sizzling away in the pan, the kitchen filling with that unbeatable breakfast aroma.

“Eggs are all whipped and ready,” Myra reports proudly, offering up the bowl.

I sprinkle in some pepper, salt, and a splash of milk, giving it one final whisk for good measure. Once they hit the pan, I turn the heat down low to keep things moving slow. Gotta wait for that bacon to crisp up perfectly first before we dive in. After both are plated, we tackle the fruit course—washing and slicing strawberries together. Well, Myra washes and I cut.

Before we know it, we’re eating fluffy eggs, bacon brittle, and fresh sweet strawberry slices. We grab our seats and Myra dives into her plate right away.

Seeing her so happy, I can’t help but smile and think this is worth sharing with Indie. I grab my phone and shoot her a quick text with the picture of Myra cracking the eggs. After all, she’s the one who said that this would be a favor to me, and I think it was.

Ty: You wouldn’t believe the negotiation standoff I had with Myra this morning over her outfit choice. It’s turned into a summit about weather-appropriate clothing versus summer dresses. Plus she convinced me to give you money so you can buy her leggings because she only has ugly colors.

Almost instantly, my phone buzzes with Indie’s reply:

Indie: She does like her dresses and skirts. How’d you manage to smooth things over?

Ty: It was a pretty tough negotiation, but I can say layering for the win. Also, I need to take her to some fancy place where she can wear just the dress.

Indie: So you bribed her with dinner and clothes. Wow, I don’t know what to say. I mean you did win, but did you? I’ll see what I can do with the leggings. And don’t forget to do her hair into a pretty updo.

Ty: You’re killing me here, Indie. What if I find her a hat instead?

Indie: Nope, this is the last thing you have to do. Think of it as a quest. To finish it you have to fix her hair and take her to school.

Ty: What’s my prize?

Indie: The satisfaction of knowing you spent quality time with your child. Those are moments she’ll cherish when she’s older. I still remember those days when Dad would braid my hair before school and drive me and my siblings along.

Ty: I guess that’s something I’ve never considered. It’s so hard to do it during the season.

Indie: You can always find the time. Now, I’m going to continue enjoying my morning tea before I start my day.

Ty: Fine, but we’re seeing you later today, right? I have a game.

Indie: I’ll be there, don’t worry about it.

But I’m pretty concerned. Not that she won’t come, but that I’m smiling like an idiot after putting down the phone.

Chapter Thirteen

Tyberius

Myra’s soft snores drift from her room as I pace the living room like a caged tiger. Tonight’s game—a victory for the Seattle Sasquatches—should have been the highlight, a reason for celebration, yet my mind is elsewhere.

My thoughts are consumed with Indigo Walker—stubborn, maddening, bold and beautiful Indigo Walker who insisted on driving all the way to her brother’s place by herself—at this time of night.

I admire her independence, her fierce spirit, but she clearly doesn’t understand the concept of self-preservation. And then, there’s the attraction I feel toward her. We just met yesterday morning and her beautiful face keeps popping in my mind more often than it should.

---