Page 56 of Married to the Frenemy

But we still didn’t make any move to go inside, the three of us sitting on the back patio as we talked about everything that popped into Maggie’s head.

She’s definitely an inquisitive little girl. All throughout dinner, she peppered me with questions about the different things she noticed in the vineyard.

I told her all about the owl and bird boxes that keep pests away. I also taught her that the flowers between the rows of vines she saw in the winter are cover crops, and are used to nourish the vines during dormancy. I also told her that the rose bushes planted at the end of each row aren’t there to make everything look pretty but to detect disease brought on by louses eating the vines.

Maggie wasn’t the only one fascinated by everything I shared. I could tell Haley was also impressed.

“But I’m not tired, Mama,” Maggie says around a yawn, her head drooping.

“Sure you aren’t.” Haley pushes back from her chair. “Come on. Time for bed.”

When she starts to stand, I place a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “I can read to her.”

She meets my gaze. “You don’t have to. She’s not?—”

“If you’re about to tell me she’s not my responsibility again, I’m going to stop you right now. She may not be my responsibility, but I can still help with her. I still want to help with her. So please. Let me read to her.”

She stares at me for several long moments. I half expect her to refuse, like she typically does.

At first, I thought her reticence to accept help was due to her stubbornness. But I get it now. Hell, I should have understood it long before now. I saw firsthand how controlling her parents were. It’s understandable that she’d avoid any scenario that would give anyone power over her.

Knowing what I do now, it’s a miracle she even agreed to our fake marriage.

“Thanks, Beckham,” she finally says.

“Anytime.” I squeeze her arm, then move toward Maggie. “Come on, pipsqueak. You’re with me tonight.”

“You’re going to read to me?”

“Yup.” I lift her off her chair and place her feet on the ground, making sure she’s steady before I release her. “Go on up and change into your pajamas.” I arch a brow. “You don’t need help with that, do you?”

She rolls her eyes dramatically, placing her hands on her hips. “I’m four,” she replies with the attitude of a fourteen-year-old. “I know how to put on my pajamas. I can even brush my teeth.” She marches inside and runs up the stairs, her heavy footfalls echoing even out here.

“I have a feeling we’ll have our hands full with that one when she’s a teenager,” I muse absentmindedly, not having realized what I said until Haley darts her wide eyes toward me, her breath hitching.

It’s not the subject of the statement that catches her by surprise, but that one word… We.

“I mean, you,” I correct. “You’ll have your hands full.”

“I can’t argue with that,” she says with a smile, although it doesn’t reach her eyes.

I grab our dinner plates and bring them inside, placing them in the sink. Haley follows with a few glasses.

“You don’t have to do that,” I tell her as she turns on the faucet and starts to scrub the dishes. “I can clean it up.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” she throws my words back at me. “I want to do it.”

“Touché, Haley.” I playfully nudge her.

God, I love being able to touch her again. I hope the no-touching rule remains permanently erased. I doubt I’ll ever be able to go back to not touching her, even if all reason tells me it’s probably best for both of us.

“Anything I should know about reading to her?”

She turns off the faucet and faces me. “She only gets three books. Otherwise, she’ll have you read every one she owns. Twice. She’s a bit of a bookworm.”

“Three books. Got it.” I wipe my hands on a dishtowel, then start up the stairs.

“Thanks, Beckham,” Haley calls after me.

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